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stereotypical-day · 13 hours ago

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stranger danger - the salesman/recruiter (Squid Game) x female reader

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: 𝙮/𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙂𝙞-𝙝𝙪𝙣'𝙨 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙣. 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤��𝙙, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙭𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙤 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜. 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚂𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗? 𝚅𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙰𝚐𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚙(𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛) 𝙺𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔(𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚝) 𝙳𝚘𝚖!𝚂𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙱𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚜. 𝙶𝚊𝚐𝚜. 𝚁𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜. 𝙽𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝(𝚢𝚎𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚍𝚔 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚢).

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5,404

Y/n sat in the back of the conference room of the abandoned building, surrounded by a group of men. It was a rare sight to see a girl in one of these meetings, but now they needed as many people as they could find.

“Now, everyone, listen!” the man who had invited you all here spoke up, standing confidently in front of the crowd.

“The person we’re looking for looks like this,” he announced, pointing to a mannequin dressed in a suit beside him. “He’s tall, probably over 180cm, a good-looking guy in a nice suit, and he’s always carrying a briefcase.” The mannequin looked rather absurd; its hastily drawn face gave it the appearance of a cartoon character.

“And in that briefcase,” the man continued, “he holds a bunch of money and ddakji.” The crowd erupted into murmurs, voices overlapping as everyone reacted. Y/n remained seated at the back, her gaze fixed on the presentation with quiet intensity.

“He plays ddakji with strangers in the subway, and then,” the speaker said as he grabbed a card from the mannequin’s hand, “he hands them this invitation.”

The group grew louder, shifting in their seats as questions buzzed through the air. “What is that? What does it say?” voices questioned.

“As soon as you find someone who looks like this, call the number we gave you,” the man instructed, holding up the card for emphasis. “Take a picture!”

Y/n pulled her phone from her jacket, snapping a few pictures of the mannequin that represented the man they were hunting. She stood up and moved closer to the front to get a better shot.

“Now, now, if you’re finished, we’re going to get started right away,” their boss announced, his voice commanding and sharp. “The first group will take lines one and two. The second group will cover lines three and four. The third group will take lines five and six. The fourth group will handle lines seven and eight. And the last group will cover the Gyeongui-Jungang line and the line to the airport.” He gestured toward a large whiteboard where the subway lines were marked out.

“Make sure you track every train, from the first to the last. Search each one thoroughly and don’t skip any,” he emphasized.

“Yes, sir!” the crowd chanted in unison.

“After looking through the station, take a picture and send it to our group chat. If you don’t do that, you won’t be paid. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” the crowd echoed again, their voices reverberating through the room.

“One more thing. The team that finds the guy gets a bonus of 500 million won.” Suddenly, everyone was hyped, jumping and chanting. The energy in the room surged as people prepared to give their best to find the guy. Clapping and cheering, they bolted for the door, eager to start the search immediately and waste no time.

Y/n was assigned to team four, joining the boss and his assistant. She got up after them, ready to put in her best effort. The money was a strong motivator; she was in a tough financial situation and couldn’t afford to slack off.

Pulling her hood over her head, she jumped into the van after her boss. Settling into her seat, she pulled out her phone and stared at the picture of the man they were hunting, committing his features to memory.

Days turned into a routine of tireless searching. Every team checked in daily in the group chat, but as time passed, summer began to fade into autumn. Y/n continued to show up at 6 a.m. sharp at the subway station alongside her boss and his assistant, Woo-Seok. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and she sighed as she stepped onto the platform. Even Woo-Seok had started to doubt whether the man they were searching for even existed.

During lunch that day, Woo-Seok voiced his frustrations. “How can you be so sure this guy is real? What if it’s all just some made-up story? We’ve been at this for ages, and no one’s seen anything!”

Y/n sat silently, nibbling on her sandwich as the argument unfolded. The boss, however, wasn’t having any of it. He scolded Woo-Seok, reminding him of how lucky they were to be earning easy money from this job.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” the boss said in a low voice. “Seong Gi-Hun might be a little crazy, but he wouldn’t spend millions trying to find a guy who doesn’t exist.”

“I know, boss,” Woo-Seok replied, rubbing his eyes with frustration. “But we’ve been searching these stations for two years now. Every single day—for two years!”

Y/n chuckled softly and cleared her throat. “You’ve really been searching for this guy for two years?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

“Yes, we have! Even my wife’s teasing me about it. She says, ‘You should find that guy and join those games yourself to bring home 45.6 billion won.’ I swear, if someone was playing ddakji here, we would’ve—”

A sharp, echoing slap interrupted his words. The sound reverberated through the empty subway station, and Y/n’s head instinctively snapped toward the source. There, not far away, she saw a tall, striking man in a suit holding a briefcase. He was playing ddakji with a scruffy young punk.

Her heart raced. She quickly pulled out her phone and compared the man to the picture she had taken months ago during the presentation. Her eyes widened as realization struck.

“It’s him,” she whispered.

Her boss was already on the phone, dialing Gi-Hun’s number. “Follow him,” he instructed firmly. “Don’t let him out of your sight—not for a second.”

They moved quickly, trailing him out of the subway station. They watched as he headed to a bakery and then to a lottery shop. Throughout it all, the man wore a weird, unsettling smile, carrying two bags of bread in one hand and his briefcase in the other.

Y/n picked up her pace, moving closer to keep him in sight. Her boss and Woo-Seok lagged a bit behind, distracted by a street food stall as they grabbed something to eat. The man eventually made his way toward a park, one largely occupied by homeless people.

She chose a bench near the edge of the park, pulling her hoodie up over her head as she took out her phone, pretending to be preoccupied with it. Meanwhile, her boss and Woo-Seok, ever the subtle observers, bought a newspaper and sat beside her, using it as cover while they peeked over the top to keep tabs on the guy.

The man began approaching the homeless, one by one, offering them a choice: bread or a lottery ticket. To Y/n’s surprise, most chose the lottery ticket over the bread.

“Woo-Seok,” the boss muttered, breaking the quiet. “What do you think he’s doing?” His tone was skeptical, clearly perplexed by the man’s behavior.

“I don’t know,” Woo-Seok replied with a shrug, chuckling in disbelief. “Maybe he’s one of the good guys? This is just... weird.”

Y/n stayed silent, her eyes sharp as she carefully observed the man’s actions.

“I think he’s trying to make some kind of point,” she murmured, her voice low but audible enough for them to hear. Both men turned their heads toward her, curious. “It’s like he’s running some sort of social experiment,” she added with a faint chuckle. “This guy is... intriguing.” Her lips curled slightly as she bit the corner of her bottom lip, her gaze never leaving the man’s figure.

The man continued his routine, offering the same simple choice to each homeless person he approached. Bread or lottery. By the time he ran out of supplies, nearly all had chosen the lottery ticket. Only a few had opted for the bread.

As he turned to leave, his long strides gave the impression that he was done, ready to disappear from the scene. But then he abruptly stopped in the center of the park. Slowly, he set the bags of bread and his briefcase on the ground.

The man turned to face the crowd of homeless people, his ever-present unsettling smile widening as he regarded them. Then, without a word, he picked up the bags and began tossing all the bread onto the ground.

Y/n’s lips twitched into a grin as she leaned forward slightly, clearly entertained. The absurdity of the moment was almost too much, and she had to stop herself from laughing out loud.

“Sir, why did you throw away perfectly good food?” one of the homeless men asked hesitantly, stepping forward. He bent down, trying to salvage a piece of bread from the ground, but before he could grab it, the man in the suit stepped on it.

Twisting his foot, the man ground the bread further into the pavement, his unsettling smile never faltering.

“I gave you a chance, and you made your choice,” he said calmly, his voice carrying an almost eerie authority. He straightened, his gaze sweeping across the people surrounding him.

“I didn’t throw this away, ladies and gentlemen. You did!” he declared, his voice rising as he gestured dramatically to the ruined bread. Then, without hesitation, he began stomping on the remaining pieces, jumping and grinding them into the hard concrete with wild abandon.

He looked like a lunatic, but Y/n couldn’t help herself. She pressed a hand over her mouth, muffling a silent laugh. The spectacle was absolutely priceless.

Woo-seok and her boss sat next to her, their faces frozen in a mix of confusion and disbelief as the bizarre scene played out.

“This guy is completely nuts,” Y/n whispered between muffled laughs, quickly pulling out her phone to record. At one point, he even kicked the bread, his shouts escalating into what could only be described as soft, strangled screams. Y/n had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from laughing out loud.

She sent the video to their group chat with the caption: When a gentleman has a mental breakdown LOL.

When the man finally finished, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his breathing heavy. With an air of composure that felt entirely out of place, he adjusted his tie, smiled like he’d just won a medal, and picked up his briefcase. He walked away calmly, as if nothing had happened.

That was it for Y/n—she burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.

“What the hell did we just witness?” she managed between gasps, her shoulders shaking.

“This is not the time for laughing, Y/n.” Her boss nudged her, already on his feet. “Come on, we have to keep following him.”

Grudgingly, Y/n got up along with Woo-seok, and the three of them hurried after the man. They hopped into a taxi, trailing the car he had climbed into. Their pursuit led them to a narrow alley where he parked and continued on foot, weaving between buildings.

They followed closely, though the man seemed unaware—or maybe he just didn’t care.

“We might lose him if we keep creeping around like this,” the boss muttered, peeking around a corner. “Why don’t we just grab him ourselves?”

“By ourselves? Are you sure about that?” Woo-seok asked, his hesitation clear.

“Why not? Are you scared? There’s three of us and one of him. He can’t take all of us down,” the boss reasoned, his tone dripping with impatience.

Y/n frowned, crossing her arms. “I don’t think that’s a great idea, boss. The guy’s a complete nutjob—did we all watch the same performance in the park?”

The boss waved her off. “How did I end up hiring such cowards? If we lose him, we’re kissing a billion won goodbye. Did you forget?”

Woo-seok, ever practical, interjected, “So, we’re splitting it three ways, right?”

The boss shot him a sharp look. “You don’t trust me, Woo-seok? I got you married, didn’t I? Now stop whining. We’re gonna lose him!”

Before Y/n could protest further, the boss took off, striding casually toward the man ahead. Y/n and Woo-seok reluctantly followed, both equally skeptical.

And then the boss did the stupidest thing possible.

“Hey you, stop right there!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the alley.

Y/n cringed, her hands twitching at her sides. Of course he yells. Why not just send the guy a formal email while we’re at it?

The man in the suit froze mid-step, his posture stiffening. Slowly, he turned to face them, his unnerving smile firmly in place. And then he moved.

Before anyone could react, he swung his briefcase like a weapon, taking down Woo-seok and the boss with terrifying ease. Both men hit the ground, groaning in pain.

Y/n froze, staring at him wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

The man tilted his head, an eyebrow quirking up as if to say, Really?

Then, without hesitation, he swung the briefcase again. The last thing Y/n saw was it coming straight for her before everything went black.

Y/n tries to open her eyes but can't see anything. Has she gone blind? As soon as she regains consciousness, she realizes she's firmly tied to a chair, her mouth is gagged, and she's blindfolded. A dull headache throbs on one side of her head, making her wince in pain whenever she moves.

She hears her boss and Woo-seok's gagged screams and cries, only a few feet away from her. Fear washes over her as her heart feels like it's going to rip out of her chest, her whole body trembling, but she doesn't make a sound.

Footsteps slowly approach her, and she feels the presence of a man next to her, his hands on her head, untying the blindfold from the back of her head and pulling it down gently.

"Hello, beautiful," he smirks as she opens her eyes to take in the scene in front of her. He was staring down at her, his head tilted slightly with a cocky expression on his face.

She doesn't say anything, blinking a couple of times as her eyes shift to Woo-seok and her boss in front of her, both tied to chairs and gagged just like her. They keep squirming and crying; she's afraid that they will make him angry somehow with all the noise they're making.

He went over to the table and played some music. It was a classical piece, and you could tell he was a man of taste.

Then, he moved towards the chairs where the two men were tied and crouched beside them.

"Now, you're going to play a game. Rock-paper-scissors, minus one," he spoke to the men in an almost formal tone.

"You know the rules? You make a sign with both of your hands, then remove one. The winner is determined by the hands that stay up," he explained in the same formal tone.

"Of course, there is a punishment for the loser," he continued while getting up and taking a revolver from the table.

"You've probably seen this in movies. It's called Russian Roulette," he says so casually that Y/n is shocked by the cold-blooded nature of this man. He doesn't even flinch as he loads the gun with one bullet.

“I will put one bullet in a revolver, spin it,” he says, spinning the cylinder with a sharp flick of his wrist, "and close it.” The gun clicks shut ominously.

“Then, I will put the gun to the loser's head and pull the trigger,” he continues, pressing the gun against his own temple and lowering his face to their level.

“The chances of death are 1 in 6,” he whispers, shifting his gaze to the other man, “chances of survival, 5 in 6.”

Click.

He pulls the trigger against his temple, the gun not firing. He lets out a whistle, the sound echoing like that of a madman as he returns to his towering position above them. Y/n is puzzled, fear now overtaking her senses. This man had willingly risked his life; what wouldn't he do to them?

“Not bad, right?” he smiles, his mood swings as erratic as a storm. “Good, now we play. On my mark.” His voice resumes its chilling formality.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” he begins, his voice slow, deliberate. Y/n’s body trembles with fear and anticipation. What fate awaits her? Will he kill them all? Her mind races, scanning the room for any means of escape, but finding none.

“You didn’t play,” he turns to Woo-Seok, his voice eerily calm and gentle. “You broke the rules for the first round. Disqualified.” There's a cold finality in his tone as he raises the gun to Woo-Seok’s head. Both men scream and cry, their pleas muffled by their gags. Only Y/n remains silent, though she feels on the verge of collapse.

He presses the gun against Woo-Seok's head.

Click.

It doesn't fire.

With a deliberate motion, he spins the cylinder again, flicking his wrist to lock it back in place.

“Let’s play again,” he declares, “Rock, paper, scissors.” This time, both play. “Minus one,” and the boss loses. Casually, he lifts the gun, the click of the trigger resounding in the room. Again, it doesn't fire. The boss lets out a gut-wrenching scream, unable to calm despite surviving this round.

Y/n inhales slowly, praying to every deity she knows, hoping just to survive this ordeal. The man smiles at them, pulling a tissue from his pocket to wipe the blood from the boss's face, his smile a dark promise of more to come.

“Don’t be so nervous,” he spoke in an almost comforting manner, “like I said, the chances of survival are 5 to 6. Let’s play again.”

And so they did. He spun the cylinder and they played. Woo-Seok lost. The gun didn't fire. He examined the gun as if puzzled, his eyebrows furrowed in scrutiny.

“It’s starting to get boring, right?” he said with his usual unsettling smile. He picked up bullets from the table and loaded the gun. “Let’s flip the chances,” he announced, “chances for survival are now 1 in 6, for death 5 in 6,” he explained formally as he inserted four more bullets into the cylinder and spun it.

Woo-Seok started pleading, his words barely comprehensible, “Please, don’t...”

“Let’s play again. Faster this time. Rock, paper, scissors.”

He made them play again. They played four times, each a tie. On the fifth, Woo-Seok showed two rocks while the boss had scissors and paper. They were trembling with fear as Woo-Seok broke down in tears.

“Minus one,” he called out, but the boss didn’t play. He had sacrificed himself for Woo-Seok.

“What a shame. You didn’t move your hand,” he said, amusement clear in his voice, his face revealing the twisted joy he was getting from this game.

“Disqualified,” he declared casually, pressing the gun against the boss’s head and firing. The sharp sound of the gunshot echoed through the room, making Y/n jump in her chair, her eyes shutting reflexively for a moment.

That was it; he had killed one of them. There was no chance of surviving this man. Blood splattered across his face and stained the collar of his white shirt; he was completely unhinged.

“Your turn, beautiful,” he said, turning towards her, still clutching the gun. She froze as he approached.

“You’ve been pretty quiet over there,” he observed, his eyes locked on her face as he played with the revolver, spinning the cylinder and flicking his wrist repeatedly. Finally, he set the gun down, moved behind her chair, and dragged her closer to Woo-Seok, who was now choking on his tears.

He kicked the chair with the dead body away, turning Woo-Seok to face Y/n.

“You and our lucky winner here will go round after round. Same game. Same rules. Let’s make this quick. 2 in 6 chance for survival, and 4 in 6 for death,” he revised once more before calling out.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” Woo-Seok put out paper and scissors while Y/n had rock and scissors.

“Minus one,” his voice was almost a whisper. Y/n was left with scissors, Woo-Seok with paper.

“Ah, it seems that you lost,” he said, lowering his face to Woo-Seok's level, staring at him with a playful smirk. Woo-Seok kept crying and screaming, pleading for his life, but it was all in vain. The man stood up straight, pressing the gun to Woo-Seok's temple. With one click, the gun fired, the sound deafening in the confined space, blowing Woo-Seok's brain apart.

Y/n let out a soft scream as the gun discharged beside her, blood splattering across her and this insane, nameless man.

“Well, congratulations. You’re the winner,” he leaned over her chair, his hands on the armrests, his face inches from hers, his eyes boring into her soul.

“Now, we’re going to talk,” he said, unclasping the belt around her mouth. She finally exhaled deeply, the air tasting of fear and gunpowder.

“About what?” she spat, her expression a cocktail of fear, frustration, and perhaps a hint of twisted admiration.

“About you, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice as sweet as honey. He leaned in, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Surprisingly calm, she stared back into his eyes, her expression unwavering. The whites of his eyes were visible beneath the irises, wide and bloodshot, lending his gaze a frenzied, unhinged quality. His pupils, dilated and dark, seemed to swallow the light, reflecting a madness that made her heart race with fear.

“Who sent you?” he asked, his voice sharper, more incisive than before.

“Nobody sent me,” she replied, her voice strained, her jaw tightening, but she never broke eye contact.

He chuckled, the sound dark and throaty, making her stomach churn.

“Ah, lone wolf. Tragic,” he said calmly, wiping his hands with a silk handkerchief. “But see, the problem with lone wolves is they usually lie... or die. And I hate liars.”

He tossed the handkerchief onto the table, tilting his head as he looked at her again.

“So, what is it, sweetheart? Are you lying to me, or do you have a death wish?” he asked, picking up his revolver once more.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry, her eyes flicking to the revolver in his hand, his long fingers lazily wrapped around the grip.

She stayed silent, not making a sound, as he moved over her again, leaning in so close that his breath mingled with hers, his face mere inches away.

“I know many ways to make you talk, sweetheart,” his breath grazed against her cheek as he whispered softly into her ear. “But... I’m feeling generous today.” He moved back slightly, lifting his hand that held the revolver.

He turned the gun towards her, and her breath quickened. He placed the barrel against her lips.

“Open,” he ordered, his gaze a mix of amusement and darkness. She opened her mouth obediently, and he shoved the barrel inside, positioning it against her upper palate.

For a moment, she truly believed he was going to kill her. He didn't even flinch as he held the gun steady his finger hovering over the trigger, tears streaming silently down her face.

“Aww, sweetheart, there's no need to cry,” he mocked with a fake pout, the gun still in her mouth. “I told you, I just want to talk.”

He paused, the gun's barrel heavy against her mouth, her lips feeling the coldness of the metal. His eyebrows lifted in a challenging arch as he watched her tears, a smirk playing on his lips. The tension stretched, every moment an eternity, before he finally, slowly, withdrew the gun, the metal scraping against her teeth, setting it down on the table with a deliberate click.

“You’re my little winner,” he said, grazing his knuckles over her tear-streaked face, “you deserve your reward then, right?”

He went behind her, leaning over her shoulder, gently moving a strand of hair behind her ear as he whispered into it.

“Tell me,” he breathed, his mouth grazing her ear.

“Who,” he paused, “sent,” his teeth lightly biting into her earlobe and pulling it back, “you?” he finished, releasing the earlobe, his breath warm against her ear.

Y/n shivered; this was a different kind of torture. She let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes before she replied.

“Nobody sent me,” she repeated, her voice steady for a moment before it wavered. She paused, a breath caught in her throat, the weight of her next words heavy on her tongue.

“You just killed him,” she managed to choke out, the words catching in her throat, each syllable a struggle as they forced their way past her lips.

“What did you just say?” His brows knitted in confusion as he circled around the chair to face her, a flicker of curiosity or suspicion crossing his face.

She swallowed, her voice quieter now, “My boss. You killed my boss,” she gestured with her head towards the body on the floor

He turned around to look at the body, raising his eyebrows before letting out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?” he said, walking behind her again. “You’re funny. I like that.” Slowly, he loosened the ropes binding her, releasing her. She didn't move from her spot, still in shock.

“Why are you still sitting there? You have a chance now—grab the gun, shoot me, and leave through that door. That’s what you want, right?” he smirked from across the room, his voice taunting yet disturbingly calm.

Her eyes flicked to the revolver on the table. She could grab it, end this madness, and escape. But her body refused to move. Fear paralyzed her, rooting her to the spot. She couldn’t do it.

He chuckled, shaking his head at her silence. “What’s the matter? Got cold feet? Or maybe…” His smirk deepened as his eyes glinted with amusement. “Maybe you just don’t want to hurt me?”

She stared down at the floor, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Aww, aren’t you sweet?” He pulled that fake pouty face again, the one that made her skin crawl. “Don’t tell me you like me now.”

Her head snapped up to glare at him, only for her breath to hitch as he reached into his pocket and pulled out her phone. He held it up, wiggling it in front of her with that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face.

Her breath hitched, and instinctively, she rose from the chair, her legs weak as she took a hesitant step toward him.

“Why did you take my phone?” she demanded, frustration mingling with fear as she stopped herself just short of him, unwilling to risk closing the distance completely.

“Now we’re talking,” he smirked, tilting the phone to show her the screen. It was unlocked. He tapped it casually, playing a video. Her blood ran cold as she recognized the scene: the park, the homeless people, and him stomping on the bread in a fit of rage. Her laughter echoed faintly in the background, cruel and unthinking, mingling with the sounds of the moment.

“You found this funny, huh?” he said, his tone deceptively calm, but his eyes glittered with something darker. He watched the video for a moment longer, then pocketed the phone with a slow, deliberate motion.

“I hate gamblers,” he began, his voice taking on an icy edge as he paced a few steps away from her. “I hate this trash of people who leech off society and give nothing in return. And do you know what really made me lose my mind?” He stopped abruptly and turned to face her, his eyes held an icy stare that showed subtle signs of disgust and anger.

“Even when they’re starving, living in the gutter, with nothing to their name, they’ll still choose to gamble. Still choose greed over survival. They disgust me.”

She shrank back, pressing herself against the wall as her pulse roared in her ears. Her fear was palpable now, a crushing weight that made her legs feel like they would give out at any moment. She wanted to respond, to say something, anything, but her throat felt like it had closed up, trapping the words inside.

“And the worst of it all...” he paused, taking a closer step to her, "is that they are willing to play games, sacrificing lives of everyone around them, including themselves, only for their greed.”, the predatory grace of his movements sending a fresh wave of terror coursing through her.

“So, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft now, almost a whisper, “It’s interesting, isn’t it? Now you know the reason for my reaction.” Her breath hitched again, her chest rising and falling rapidly as panic clawed at her. He was inches away now, close enough that she could see the droplets of dried blood splattered across his face and his white collar, smell the faint tang of his cologne.

“Not so funny now, is it?”, he leaned in, his face so close to hers that their foreheads nearly touched. “No. Because now...”, he paused, “your mind is racing with the thoughts of what I’m going to do with you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her body trembling as she tried to force herself away from the moment, away from his piercing gaze and the cruel smirk that played on his lips.

“Did I guess it right?”, he asked caging her in with his arms on either side of her, his palms flat against the wall. “I’ll give you two options.”, he continued lifting two fingers in front of her face.

“Option one: you join me. Do everything I say. Be my obedient little puppy.”

Her breath caught as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Option two: you leave. Try your luck. But if I catch you—and trust me, sweetheart, I will— let’s just say I won’t be as generous with you as I am right now.”

Her chest was rising and falling heavily as she stared into his eyes, his face so close she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” His lips brushed the air between them, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

She clenched her fists at her sides, her heart racing. Heat rose to her cheeks, the proximity doing strange things to her resolve. Fear mingled with something she refused to acknowledge—something electric, undeniable.

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she said weakly, her voice trembling.

His grip on her jaw was firm as he tilted her face up to his, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You don’t get to decide what I call you, sweetheart. Now, answer the question.”

She remained silent, her lips parted but no words coming out. Her mind raced, weighing her options. Every logical thought told her to choose freedom, but the dark glint in his eyes made it clear—no matter what she chose, she wouldn’t truly be free.

“Yes,” she managed to choke out.

“Yes what?” he pressed, his grip tightening around her.

“I’ll join you,” she murmured, her words barely coherent.

“Good girl,” he praised, flicking his tongue over her bottom lip with a devilish grin spreading across his face. She exhaled shakily, barely holding her composure. His hand traveled to the back of her neck, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling it back sharply.

He moved away from her, yanking her by the hair to throw her roughly onto the floor. She let out a surprised gasp, but before she could process what was happening, he was on her again. Skillfully, he tied her wrists behind her back and gagged her mouth once more.

With one hand around her upper arm, he pulled her up as if she weighed nothing.

“On your feet, sweetheart,” he commanded, pulling her to stand, but her legs were wobbly, trembling from adrenaline and the aftershocks of his erratic mood swings.

“Aren’t you prettier like this, hm?” he asked, looking at her with an admiring smile that was clearly feigned. The insanity in his eyes was unmistakable. He grazed his fingers over Y/n’s cheek; she flinched at his touch, turning her head away.

“Tsk. Tsk,” he clicked his tongue, his face showing mock disappointment as he dragged her towards the door. “I thought we agreed on this.”

He dragged her outside, briefcase in one hand, leading her with the other. They entered a van that drove them far away into the dark.

#salesman x reader #the salesman x reader #gong yoo x reader #squid game #squid game s2 #squid game x reader #squid game gong yoo #squid game fanfic #squid game imagine #the salesman #the recruiter squid game #the recruiter x reader #the salesman fanfic #squid game fanficition

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tevaselmundogiraalreves · 2 days ago

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BUDDIE FIC RECS PART 2

Okay heres more fics cause ive been reading so so much lately, i cannot and will not be stopped. Heres the first list. I will most prob keep on making lists cause i honestly cannot stop reading. Once again, in no particular order:

Songbird by @colonoscopys - Goes first cause i just finished reading this one. FREAK EDDIE IS MY PASION. I said it already but at one point eddie eats bucks hair. Its awesome! FreakxFreak DumbxDumb

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by @hoediaz EVERYONE ALREADY READ THIS ONE RIGHT? IF NOT WTF ARE YOU EVEN DOING GO! ACTORS AU YOU WILL NE FAMOUS FOREVER.

chess inside my chest by @buick118 - HELLOOOO THIS ONE FIXED SOMETHING INSIDE MY CHEST "heart clipped in the backseat with his headphones already secured over his ears." I NEED AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS WRITING ❤️‍🩹

Two, Three Times in a Row by leslie_knope i honestly have no words for how much i love this fic, i reread it all the time, like ive reread it so much its embarrasing. Some of the best smut ive read.

wanna do a bad thing twice by @coldbam BUCK IS SUCH A FREAK GOD HE IS SUCH A FREAK

(You know what actually there are 2 more fics were buck is the freakiest hes ever been so ill put them right below ⬇️)

slow motion, double vision in rose blush by @saryasy Eddie Diaz. His friend. His Eddie. Has kissed a man. Which is strange because Buck is sure as hell he'd remember kissing Eddie.

Me at Buck: FREAAAAAAAAK

Also special mention to that flashback WOW!

i can tell just what you want (you don't want to be alone) by @tallsinspace Buck loses it every single time this is so awesome, it was so FUN reading INFIDELEDDIE this hiatus 🫶🏽

songs and poems and promises by @lesbianrobin buck summer of disatisfaction turns around thanks to eddie god they are so in love! Also special mention to chim well and maddie lets fucking goooooo

we keep this love in a photograph by @burnthatbridge its just so so freaking beautiful. Buck chooses eddies pics for his dating app after he comes out...

the tortured poets department by @colonoscopys once again the kind of fic that you wanna reread again and again.

"The first time Buck touched him, Eddie blew an ambulance up."

still sitting in a corner i haunt by @cal-daisies-and-briars i just love this one so much, should reread it, trust me its worth it.

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless. Idk i loved this one. Buddie are not even friends they just want the benefits as soon as they meet. The transition from that to them actually getting to know each other so naturally and start caring about each other is so beautiful.

in the passenger seat by @livingincolorsagain Evan Buckley was put on God’s green earth to drive Eddie Diaz around.

Just BEAUTIFUL.

tying you to me by @hoediaz ONCE AGAIN PERFECT TYPE OF WRITING. Buddie meet each other after 5x11. SO ORIGINAL GOD.

the soft animal of your body by @hattalove . This is a coda to another fic but can be read on its own. Just beautiful beautiful love making. I think i commented that i felt like they were making love with the words they were saying to each other just sitting on the kitchen table talking.

we could follow the sparks, i’ll drive by @markofalover bucks kink should be people calling him mr. diaz and thinking hes eddies husband.

Wait for me there by @kitkatpancakestack Childhood friends reunite after 8 years. I just really really loved this one. Those flashbacks to the past are so beautiful.

wanna be your endgame by literalmetaphor gotta be honest dont see this happening in canon at all cause the second eddie confesses buck would go down on his knees lets be honest. BUT this was so great! I loved it.

Pivot Tables by rainbowninja167 Does it show that i love reading buddie being so freaky and so kinky. Ill just say this: educational sex. Buck brings on the clipboard. Obsessed with this one.

I Broke What You Gave Me, But You Kept Giving More by rcdwings. memory loss buck cant remember his husband. Listen im not always a fun of memory loss fics but i loved this one i loved the twist.

there's a word for it, I'm sure by @ithilien-writes i have to reread this one asap cause i loved it so so much they are just so in love with each other but cant admit it so they just start having sex about it. And god they love esch other.

i could give you fifty reasons by @marviless buck FLIRTS with eddie cause he just want ti help. God this one was so much fun. I remember laughing out loud. I gotta reread.

beating the horse by @doitbuckley Eddie is moving to Texas. Buck finally figures out what he wants. Perfect read to the end of 8a.

In the Back Seat, Windows Up by @semperama SEX IN THE BACKSIT OF THE TRUCK LETSFUCKINGGOOOOOO

Play Me For Keeps by @semperama this one made me feel so MANY things in less than 1k words I WAS WONDERSTRUCK HONESTLY SMILING FROM EAR TO EAR

would you lie with me and just forget the world by @colonoscopys reread this one recently GODDDDD if you havent just go read it right now!!! Childhood friends to lovers for the win always.

your beauty (not just a mask) by @aashiqeddiediaz these next two fics GOD well i have a thing for mirrors and sex in front of mirrors apparently so... this i top tier for me. This one is the shorter one in front of the bathroom mirror 100/10 no notes.

my mirror (staring back at me) by @aashiqeddiediaz this one is longer. Mirror in the bedroom......... Eddie notices bucks insecurities and well he does smth about it ❤️‍🔥 such a fave of mine. It has everything!!!

Dreaming of a White Christmas by rosebuddiekin . Oh boy!!!... just gonna leave the blurb here cause no words could ever be enough: "Buck accepts a challenge to be edged in his and Eddie's own version of the 12 Days of Christmas and loses his mind a little more with each one." (Btw if someone knows the author please lmk. They put a link to their tumblr on ao3 but it doesnt work for me.)

#buddie #buddie fic recs #buddie fanfic

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tristansfreezingtheirbrain · 5 hours ago

Photo

Actually let me talk about this for a second because I have been doing a self prompted character study on Sherlock based on the fact I DO NOT FOR A SECOND BELIEVE HE IS A SOCIOPATH.

And I think the writers of the show know this. It wasn’t an accident on their part, I think it’s very intentional.

Sociopaths are described as having little to no care about other people or their lives, sometimes even not caring about their own, but I don’t think it’s true in Sherlock’s case.

Yes he is antisocial and doesn’t appear to care who lives or dies, but we all know he does care.

What he does, is intentionally dissociates to save peoples lives.

He is right, feelings do get in the way of investigations, the reason he’s so good at what he does, is he’s able to separate himself from what’s going on, which leads me to my point…

I am by no means an expert but I pride myself on my intense love of phycology, and it’s that love that started me on this tangent that currently has its own 3 page essay in a notebook on my shelf.

I think Sherlock Holmes has a kind of dissociative disorder. My evidence:

- mind palace. A thing some people do but, I should point out, is not often seen in neurotypical people, and is also not often seen in sociopaths. The ‘mind palace’ as the show calls it, is often a place someone goes to in their own head to escape situations in which they are stressed or feel in danger. This is not technically how Sherlock uses it, but I’ll explain the connection in a minute.

- when put in situations where he needs to be at the hight of his productiveness, he disconnects all feelings he may have about a case in order to be more efficient.

Both of these things lead me to believe that stress triggers a disassociative state in Holmes.

He also ( SPOILERS!!! MASSASIIIVVE SPOILERS IF YOU HAVENT SEEN THE LAST EPISODE )

Engaged in Confabulation, which is when someone’s brain changes memories in order to protect itself from further stress, which would have been caused by traumatic events.

This is another thing that you see often in people with a dissociative disorder.

I think he has a subset of depersonalization/derealization disorder, which is the closest real diagnosis to what he seems to have.

I’ve also entertained the notion of him being on the autism spectrum, but I’m always careful with that because I have autism and I have a tendency to project so that could just be me relating to him in some ways. And, it’s very well known that autism and dissociative disorders kind of go hand in hand, so sometimes it can be hard to tell if someone has autism, or just a symptom of it, which is what dissociative disorder falls under in that context.

But if I was to say he is on the spectrum, this is why.

-often considered sociopathic ( is not, as I just explained )

- often considered narcissistic ( is not, and if you think he is you seriously overestimate how much he cares about himself and what happens to him. He does care about other people, it’s just hard to focus on things he can’t see immediately in front of him. )

- lack of understanding of feelings

-under/over stimulation

-very in depth knowledge on some things, complete oblivion in others ( unless he deems them important ) ( aka, hyper fixation )

-unable to focus on things he doesn’t care about

-disconnects in stressful situations

-often makes decisions people deem childish ( ex: not helping Mycroft solve a case because of a sibling fued )

AGAIN I AM BY NOOOOO MEANS AN EXPERT- AND I AM NOT CLAIMING TO BE- I JUST FIND THINGS LIKE THESE REALLY INTERESTING!!!

Anyways.

Thanks for coming to my red talk 🙌

He doesn’t feel things that way… I don’t think.

#sorry guys #someone let me take a phycology class and that was a bad decision #I blame my education #projecting #probably #bbc sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #sherlock #Sherlock Holmes feels things #and i stand by that #sherlock holmes phycology #autistic sherlock #…. maybe #dissasociation #character study #character phycology

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adieutristana · 3 days ago

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Jinx and her girlfriend stopping Vi and Caitlyn's wedding just for fun

LMAOO?? this is messy… anyways of course! thank you for the request <3

summary; jinx and her girlfriend crashing caitlyn and vi’s wedding.

characters included; jinx (romantic), vi (platonic), caitlyn (platonic)

tags/warnings; crack kinda, fluff, caitvi, mentions of war/combat, in-laws

men dni.

stating that jinx doesn't like caitlyn kiramman is like saying that grass is green.

saying that she doesn't like caitlyn with her sister even more so.

she’s tried to be patient, tried to appreciate the fact that her sister had someone to love and love her in return. despite the fact that that someone was a topsider, an enforcer no less.

could she not find someone in zaun that would be just as good for her? someone who wasn’t allied with the people who killed their parents?

regardless, jinx came to terms with the relationship as time went on. jinx and vi weren’t exactly on good terms to begin with- and getting herself involved in vi’s relationship wasn’t bound to make things any less tense. while vi knew that jinx didn’t approve of the relationship- especially after the stunt she pulled with kidnapping the two of them, the two of them didn’t talk about it explicitly.

caitlyn had grown to tolerate jinx, sometimes even going as far as to show genuine concern for the girl and talk to her in her own time. their encounters had always been fleeting, no more than a few sentences exchanged, but it was peaceful. it was something. she could live with this, jinx thought.

that was until they got engaged.

“hey, jinx. caitlyn and i recently got engaged, and while i know you’re less than happy about the relationship, i still want you to be there. you’re my sister and i don’t want you to miss this. you’re welcome to bring your girlfriend with you. i’ve put the invitation in here, love you.

-vi”

jinx is seething next to you, fighting herself to not rip up the stupid envelope and throw away the stupid invitation and curse out her stupid sister. your hand on her shoulder with your thumb gently running along the skin, doing everything you can to soothe your girlfriend.

“baby, she’s just trying to include you… you’re sisters.”

you whisper, voice low and soft as you can manage. she shakes her head and goes to start picking at her cuticiles- which you have to physically stop her from doing.

“she’s doing it to get to me. she can’t be actually marrying her, can she?”

she says through gritted teeth, and you can’t tell if jinx is trying to ask you or herself. you can’t tell if she wants an answer, either, but decide to not give her one for fear of making things even worse.

the girl is almost rocking herself forward and back in an effort to try and stop herself from doing something she’ll regret, and it breaks your heart to see her like this. after caitlyn shooting off her finger, after the war, the way that caitlyn spoke about zaun and its inhabitants, you could understand perfectly well why jinx wouldn’t approve of her. but this was worse than you’ve ever seen her in regards to the issue.

it was finally settling in that caitlyn was there to stay. maybe part of jinx was convinced that this would all blow over, it was a phase, and vi would wake up and realize that she didn’t need her. despite the fact that jinx told her she deserved to be with her.

“i shouldn’t have said that. i shouldn’t.”

she mutters. it truly does break your heart to see jinx like this, so distraught and torn. she tried to be supportive, tried to see things from her sister's point of view (especially with your help), but she just couldn't.

you let out a heavy sigh, observing your girlfriend's pained expression. part of you wants to keep trying to talk to her and comfort her, the other part wants to let her have time to think and process everything. either way, you'd be there the entire way through. but sometimes with jinx, despite how long you've been together, it can be difficult to tell the exact thing she needs. but for your own conscience, you have to know that you at least tried.

"jinx... we don't have to go if you don't want to."

you offer, pressing close to jinx so that your shoulders are now touching. your approach is careful. if she doesn't want to take it, she doesn't have to, but it's something at the very least. she lets out a shaky breath, keeping her gaze downcast. it's like she's begun to shut down.

"no... no, we'll be there. we'll be there."

she mumbles. voice barely audible, but stern.

✧.*

"you're sure about this?"

you ask, hands occupied with tying a black tie onto jinx.

"yeah, i'm sure. all according to plan, right?"

she smirks, hands on her hips. you'd decided to go to a secondhand shop in the undercity to grab some clothes for jinx that would be acceptable for a wedding- gods know she doesn't have any. a simple white long-sleeved blouse, black tie, and black slacks. not too polished, not too flashy, but just formal enough for her sister's big day.

you'd also taken it upon yourself to carefully braid jinx's usual unruly hair, despite her (playful) protests. though the way she relaxed under your touch and her shoulders dropped the moment your fingertips grazed her scalp told you everything you needed to know.

"alright, ready!"

jinx exclaims before grabbing the last of her things and swiftly grabbing your arm, leading you toward the exit of her hideout. she seems oddly energetic- possibly even giddy. she hadn't been excited for this day at all until coming up with one of her typical schemes, and now it seemed as if the girl was just itching to get to the chapel.

while reluctant at first considering these were about to be basically your in-laws, you found yourself agreeing to jinx's plan. you've always been on board with the chaos innate in jinx, but the way she lit up as she described her so-called 'master plan' to you cemented that you simply couldn't say no. it was a fun idea, and jinx was counting on you to help enact it. who were you to refuse her?

✧.*

the kirammans have truly outdone themselves.

a large chapel decorated with luxurious shades of blue and gold, with hints of bright pink thrown into the flower arrangements. chandeliers, soft candlelight, windows of stained glass and pews large enough to sit an entire city.

you and jinx exchange a few polite yet drawn out 'hello's, 'nice to see you's, and 'thanks for coming's from council members, ex-fighters and members of the remaining kiramman clan.

you slide down a white pew near the front of the chapel with jinx, one that had been reserved for vi's guests. jinx huffs, folding her arms out onto the edge of the pew in front and resting her chin on them.

"just got here, and you're already bored?"

you tease, tilting your head to look down at the girl.

"yeah. this sucks."

"it hasn't started yet."

"yeah, and it'll suck worse when it does."

jinx starts bouncing her left leg, heel quickly tapping across the floor and nearly echoing through the large room. she huffs, looking to the altar, then back, toward the aisle, all around, waiting for something to happen.

"and you're completely sure that we're doing this, right?"

jinx nods, giving a little 'mhm.'

you'd discussed the plan several times in the days leading up to the wedding. jinx hadn't left a single base uncovered in terms of timing, execution, what to say, what to do. one of your favorite things about her had always been her tendency to get wrapped up the second that she really puts her mind to something. whether that be jinx drowning out any external noises while tinkering, using all of her strength to handle weapons twice her weight, or scouring all of zaun for materials, her dedication was always evident.

guests continue pouring in, and it seems as if caitlyn has invited the entire population of piltover. maybe she has. unsurprisingly and unfortunately, there aren't many on vi's side, but the ones that are count. jinx, yourself, a few old friends of vi's from the lanes, and seemingly some new friends and colleagues. vi's circle had always been small, but the people in it were of such high value.

yourself and jinx pass a few more minutes with jinx's head on your shoulder, exchanging soft kisses in anticipation for what's to come, fixing jinx's tie and simply people-watching. before the chord of a pipe organ is heard, and all heads turn to the back of the room- where caitlyn is being led down the aisle by her father.

that dress alone could cost more than the lifetime salary of ten zaunites. regardless, it's beautiful. sleek, pure white, with a silver tiara atop loosely curled blue hair. the room is still, the only things moving being the two kirammans. the moment is picturesque, it's captivating.

shortly after comes vi, walking down the aisle by unaccompanied. she looks considerably more anxious than her fiancee, but with so much pure glee that it's weighed out. she anxiously looks over at her side of the chapel, her face softening the slightest bit when she lays eyes on jinx. the girl gives her a soft smile, and although jinx doesn't react, you almost swear you could see vi mouthing something to her sister.

when both women are on the altar and the ceremony starts, it's like gears begin turning in jinx's head. she takes your hand into hers, squeezing it against her lip as her eyes turn to you.

"ready, toots?"

she whispers, the slightest smirk evident on her expression. you nod, squeezing her hand back. neither of your eyes move from the scene unfolding in front of you. caitlyn and vi with their hands clasped, looking into each other's eyes so lovingly as they exchange vows. everything was in place, you'd made sure everything was planted and taken care of before the actual event.

"if anybody should object to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace."

jinx immediately shoots up from her seat, hand raised high.

"yeah, i've got somethin'!"

she keeps her gaze on the now bewildered couple as you pull a remote from your pocket, triggering pink and blue smoke bombs from the corridors of the chapel. the crowd immediately erupts into a scatter of screams, people rushing from their seats and trying to take cover. just some colored smoke bombs; nothing that would cause harm, but sure as hell enough to cause a commotion. jinx places her hands on her hips, shaking her head.

"just some smoke bombs... pussies."

she remarks, before grabbing your hand and beginning to make her way out of the chapel with haste. not before turning over her shoulder and yelling, "tough luck!" to the couple first, though. you're giggling beside your girlfriend as the two of you run off into the streets of piltover, not even sure of your destination. only enjoying the thrill of it all and the feeling of running off into nowhere with each other. jinx's laugh is infectious, the sound ringing in your ears as she pulls you into an alleyway.

your girlfriend quickly presses your back to a wall as she grasps your waist, grinning at you.

"how was that for a wedding?"

"pretty damn good."

she barks out another laugh, before connecting her lips to yours.

#jinx x reader #arcane x reader #reader insert #arcane x you #sapphic

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myokk · 18 hours ago

Text

remembering the snow

pairing: Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting

word count: 3,2k

summary:

Imelda remembers the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

***

Or: a character study on Imelda and how she grew up because I love her & she doesn't get enough appreciation :)

cw: none, this is just a love letter to Imelda

a/n: or: this was the first oneshot I ever wrote, and it holds such a special place in my heart. I think it might be my favorite 🥹🫶

Imelda Reyes has never been one to do things by halves.

Her mother always talked about the circumstances of her birth with pride: Imelda came quickly as if she were eager to get out and see the world already, screaming even before she had fully left her mother's womb, determined to leave an indelible mark on the world.

The women in their village who had assisted the birth crossed themselves, chattering to each other in quick, soft, beautiful Spanish staccato about the baby who was already unlike any they had ever seen before. Strong and healthy and beautiful, her deep brown eyes already taking in her surroundings and watching them solemnly moments after her arrival.

Her father always talked about the circumstances of her childhood: running wild and free, flying before she could walk (a source of great pride), his little shadow who peppered him with endless questions about the world. He always brought her along to his work meetings much to everyone's delight; she was with him when he was offered the enviable position of Spanish Diplomat to the British Ministry of Magic.

At the age of five, they left the beautiful sleepy village where time hadn't seemed to exist. Imelda still dreams of long, hot, dusty days playing under the shade of orange trees, going to the market every two days with her mother draped in their finest silks, sleeping and lying around during the hottest part of the day, only leaving their house once the sun left its highest point and was about to disappear behind the mountains.

The older women in the village doted on her. If she thinks hard, she can recall their beautiful, wavering voices calling out to her as she raced past them: 'ten cuidado, cariño, te vas a mancar', 'ven aquí, cielo, te quiero ver la cara tan bonita', 'mira cómo se está creciendo, se nota que va a ser una belleza de mayor'...voices filled with comfort and love. She never knew anything different then.

She's their only child. Her mother was always brushing her hair and humming, trying to get her to sit still and listen to her endless fairy tales as the sun bore down on them; her father, treating Imelda like the son he had always wished for but accepting and loving her all the same. Sometimes, her mother would let her out of the house before the sun became too strong and they would fly around the mountains and be free free free.

Arriving to Edinburgh at the age of five, Imelda hadn't even realized she didn't speak the same language as the other children around her. As with everything else, she jumped in headfirst. Her mother always jokes that she became fluent in English the second she stepped foot on Scottish soil. To Imelda, it does seem that way. She can't ever remember not speaking in the soft Scottish burr, reminiscent of the soft Spanish she had left behind and still spoke at home.

As a child, she never had problems forging relationships with whoever was around her. She was brash and inquisitive and irresistible, taking charge wherever she went. The other children flocked around her, hanging on to her every word.

It changed, though, when her mother got her cough. It started out harmless enough, a slight cough and headache before bed each night. When her mother woke up every morning, she would be fine. But going to bed early changed to going to bed even earlier and earlier until it was time to accept what the three of them were steadfastly ignoring: she was getting worse.

Imelda was nine. She remembers her mother drying her tears with gentle, soft hands, caressing her cheeks and whispering to her that it would be fine. That she wasn't gone yet: they still had time.

'No pasa nada, mi amor. Siempre estaré contigo.'

At Hogwarts, things changed even more. She was a Slytherin and proud of it, but she never quite fit in with her classmates. She wasn't one of them, hadn't grown up with them, and they made sure she knew it. Gone were the days of running wild: she turned her single-minded determination to her studies and quidditch and found herself excelling at everything she put her mind to. It all came easily to her and she had no time for anyone who could distract her.

She wasn't a complete loner. She had her quidditch teammates, her partners in various classes, but nobody she hung out with outside of classes. She always studied alone, learned alone, trained alone.

(Of course, the picture she paints to her father in owls home is much different. He has enough on his mind - a daughter struggling to make friends is a non-issue as far as Imelda is concerned. And besides: she's fine.)

Imelda was quite content with the way things were working out for her. She would never admit if she was lonely or not, and enjoyed every part of her life. Until her fifth year, when everything began to change. Gone were her rigid schedules and studying alone and discipline. A new girl was sorted into Slytherin and Imelda found she didn't hate the girl's company. The two of them laugh together at night while they braid each others' hair, Imelda teaches her Spanish, and they have started to study together.

The new student drags her around Hogwarts and Imelda finds herself actually enjoying herself and enjoying spending time with the classmates she’s spent so many years ignoring.

This is when she meets Poppy Sweeting.

Well...Poppy swears that they met ages ago, during their first year when they were partnered together in Potions. Imelda has no recollection - that whole year was a blur - it was the year her mother succumbed to her illness - so she has to take Poppy's word for it.

She finds herself with friends for the first time in a long time. But, when the new student is running off with Sebastian doing Merlin-knows-what, things that Imelda definitely does not want to be a part of, she still finds herself seeking Poppy's company.

Poppy is sweet and fun and introverted in a way that Imelda finds familiar and comfortable: whereas Imelda turns to her studies and quidditch, Poppy often opts to spend time more time with beasts than humans. But there's something endearing about her earnestness and Imelda starts to find herself craving Poppy's calm company.

She always knows what to say when Imelda finds herself getting worked up over nothing.

On the train home for the winter holidays, as Imelda is striding down the long corridor in search of an empty cabin where she can read and concoct fail-proof quidditch tactics, Poppy calls her over to her carriage and asks Imelda to keep her company. She only needs to ask once. There's an unfamiliar fluttering in Imelda's stomach as she sits across from Poppy and the other girl beams at her but it's...well. It's not altogether unpleasant. They play exploding snap and exchange book recommendations and laugh together and...well, if Imelda's knee brushes against Poppy's occasionally or their fingers linger as they exchange essays to look over...

She can't be blamed, can she?

A letter from Poppy arrives over the break. At the sight of Poppy's small brown owl tapping the window with the letter in its beak, Imelda's heart starts racing and she runs over to the bird, grinning like a fool, but she pauses before opening it. Her fingers tremble as they hover over the wax seal.

Imelda's father is largely absent these days, a shadow of the man she had grown up with. She's noticed the difference over the summer too, of course, but the winter always feels different. More desolate; more harsh. They're nearing the four-year anniversary of her mother's death. It's impossible to ignore the fact that losing his wife has damaged his soul irreparably, and Imelda's seeing first-hand what being deeply in love can do to a person.

Maybe she'll put the letter aside and read it tomorrow.

Tomorrow bleeds into the next day turns into one week and before she can blink the bleak winter vacation with her father has ended and she's heading back to Hogwarts.

On the train, she walks past Poppy: the two of them make eye contact but Poppy flushes and looks out the window, tucking her honey-colored hair behind her ear and Imelda moves on to the next empty carriage. She pulls out some parchment and works on revising her Charms essay. It's for the best, anyway, she tells herself. For the best that she doesn't have any distractions. Their O.W.L.s are coming up and she's determined to get an O in every subject.

The month of January goes by in a flash. Between the insane quidditch schedule she's concocted for her team and the study sessions in the library, she keeps herself busy. The new fifth-year, her first real friend, starts to show concern for Imelda, gently trying to ask her what's going on as they braid each others' hair before bed.

Imelda doesn't want to bother her, though.

(She doesn't truly know what's the matter, anyways.)

She resolves to do a better job with keeping her emotions in check - her friend has enough on her plate, and Imelda doesn't want her to have to worry over something that's not even a problem in the first place.

She's fine.

Out of the corner of her eye in the classes she shares with Poppy, Imelda notices that she doesn't look as happy as she normally does. Her face is more pale and withdrawn; whenever Imelda's eyes flicker to her, her own gaze darts away.

With the beginning of February come a lot of blizzards, and they make Imelda remember the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

They had both run over to her, covering her with warm hugs and kisses, the tiny family huddled together in this foreign place where the people looked and spoke differently, where nothing was the same and she missed the old women who would give her mazapanes whenever she ran by, missed the tiny clouds of dust that would puff up as she ran and the hazy mountains in the distance and the hot, hot sun beating down while she played in the shade of the orange trees while her mother slept away the heat. Pulling her mittened hands off of her tear-stained face and telling her 'mira cariño, mira qué bonita es la nieve. Tócala, ya verás que no pasa nada...estamos aquí contigo...'

Her tears had soon dried and she was laughing and playing in the snow and she couldn't even remember what had made her so sad in the first place.

Imelda's sad now as she stares out the window.

Her mother isn't there anymore. She has no one to turn to in this self-imposed exile.

Four years ago today.

She's hidden herself away in an alcove, curled up, arms wrapped around her knees watching the snow swirling out the window. She canceled quidditch practice today due to the storm, much to everyone's surprise. Just last week, she had forced them to train in the freezing rain and today's snowfall is mild in comparison. But...today she doesn't have the energy. She's spent so much effort pretending that everything's fine when it's not and now she's sad and alone and confused.

She doesn't hear Poppy when she comes near.

The other girl crowds into Imelda's space, pressing against her in the alcove. The two face each other, and Poppy brings a gentle hand up to Imelda's face to brush away tears she hadn't even realized were falling.

"What -" Imelda starts saying, but a fresh sob chokes her and she can't. Poppy leans forward and wraps her arms around Imelda, pulling her into a close embrace. Imelda feels everything crumbling around her and she sobs into Poppy's shoulder - Poppy whispering reassurances and smoothing her hair, cradling Imelda as she cries and cries and cries.

They don't leave the alcove for another hour, almost staying out after curfew.

Imelda is subdued the next few days. The snow continues to fall until the whole castle looks like it's straight from one of the fairy tales her mother used to tell her as she brushed her hair. Imelda shows up for meals, shows up for classes, shows up in the study group, but she feels like she's just going through the motions.

She can tell her friend is getting worried, but Imelda can't confide in her. Her friend does small gestures anyways because she understands: saving Imelda a seat in class, asking her about quidditch, saving her favorite muffins for her at breakfast.

Maybe she talked to Sebastian about her worry because even he is being nicer than normal to Imelda, asking her if she wants to play wizarding chess with the two of them. Imelda doesn't really understand how or why they like playing the game so much - her friend is awful at it and Sebastian seems to enjoy the destruction and chaos more than actually strategizing. Even though Imelda hates the game - every move is painfully obvious and she can't understand how nobody else sees it like she does - maybe it would be nice to do something different.

Imelda freezes when they enter the Astronomy Tower to play: Poppy is there, waiting. For her. They haven't seen each other since she broke down humiliated and sobbing and she doesn't know what to do.

Sebastian looks between the two of them, brows furrowed, then leans down to their friend and whispers something in her ear. She nods and the two of them disappear, leaving Imelda and Poppy alone.

Poppy stands and Imelda can feel her heart start to hammer against her throat. Poppy walks forward slowly, only stopping when she's right in front of Imelda. When she speaks, her voice is high and sweet and Imelda realizes how much she missed her. "I-I'm sorry, I just didn't know how else I could talk to you. Will you come with me? I have something to show you."

Imelda nods mutely and Poppy takes her hand. They lace their fingers together and it's the first time - apart from a few days ago - that they have voluntarily touched each other. She feels Poppy's fingers tighten around hers and Imelda focuses on the feeling of soft knuckles under her thumb, but now...she's self-conscious for the first time about her quidditch-rough hands and maybe she should have listened to her friend when she tried to encourage Imelda to use some hand lotion.

Maybe Poppy will let go of her hand and leave in disgust.

But...Poppy doesn't do any of that. Every so often, she looks up at Imelda, smiling slightly. When they reach the Entrance Hall, she lets go of Imelda's hand and Imelda feels its loss with a pang.

Poppy opens the bag at her side and pulls out two huge yellow and black Hufflepuff scarves. As she's reaching up to wrap one around Imelda, she whispers: "sorry, I only have these. But yellow looks good on you."

Both of them flush and smile at each other and Imelda doesn't know how long they stand before Poppy grabs her hand again, making sure their fingers are laced, and then they are heading out.

Poppy looks more and more excited the closer they get to the Forbidden Forest, but Imelda's never set foot even remotely close to the forest, and she feels quite apprehensive at first. But, Poppy's excitement is exhilarating - Imelda can feel it rolling off of her in waves and despite herself, she begins to feel excited too. They still haven't spoken since leaving Hogwarts, but it's a comfortable silence. Imelda's glad for the scarf - their breath is puffing out in soft clouds as they breathe and it's quite cold - the freezing temperatures in Scottish winters are still something she's never quite gotten used to.

Their boots crunch through the snow-filled landscape - it's nearing dusk and the sky is turning a brilliant shade of orange and pink, but it gets obscured by the tree branches the further into the Forbidden Forest they venture, the golden light only showing in bursts now.

"Almost there," Poppy says breathlessly. She beams up at Imelda, whose breath catches at the sight, before turning back and pulling her faster and faster until they stop in a clearing. They've stopped in the middle, and Imelda looks around.

Here, they can actually see the sky and it is breathtaking in its beauty - the gnarled, naked trees around them twisting and reaching up as if they could try and grasp some of the beauty for themselves. The snow is perfectly smooth and untouched except for the footprints that the two of them have just left. Apart from that, the clearing is nondescript.

This is what Poppy had been so excited to show her?

Poppy gives no explanation for why she brought Imelda to the Forbidden Forest, but she's almost quivering in excitement - Imelda can feel the tension in the hand that's clutching hers tightly. The sun sets lower and lower, the two of them watching it as the colors around them start to fade and mute and then -

Poppy gasps in delight.

There -

A small, dancing, brilliant white light sparks to their left and disappears just as quickly.

"Look," Poppy whispers. Imelda glances over to her - she can barely make out her face in the dimming light, but Poppy seems to be glowing with happiness.

There - again -

More and more of the brilliant white lights appear, glowing and flickering on and off, and moving in almost a pattern, dancing around their heads. Imelda laughs as she watches the tiny creatures fly around them. It's magical and beautiful and -

"I found the snow sprite nest a few weeks ago, when the blizzards started, and I've been observing them since then. I...I wanted to show you and tell you about them the second I found out because I haven't stopped thinking about you but after...well, you know...I just wanted to cheer you up..."

Poppy trails off, looking uncertain when Imelda doesn't say anything in response.

She can't, even though she desperately wants to. Her mouth goes dry as she looks to the girl at her side, who has done all of this, for her.

Poppy looks impossibly lovely in the glow of the snow sprites, as they dance and spark around their heads in a beautiful waving pattern and Imelda doesn't even think as her hand goes to Poppy's cheek. Poppy stops rambling as she looks up into Imelda's eyes.

Then, before she can lose her nerve, Imelda leans forward and presses her lips to Poppy's. It's only the lightest of touches, but her heart is beating so quickly and Merlin, she can't believe she just did that. She quickly retreats, face flaming, but before she can get away Poppy reaches up to cup Imelda's cheeks with both hands and she pulls her forward, her mouth greedy, desperate, as they finally kiss.

When they finally pull away, breathing heavily as their foreheads rest against each other, Imelda can't help the huge smile that's threatening to split her face open. It mirrors the expression she sees on Poppy, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed and she is just so lovely that Imelda can't help but lean forward and capture her mouth again. Their lips mold to each other and it's the culmination of all of their stolen glances, touches, secret wishes.

Imelda Reyes has never been one to do things by halves, after all .

A HUGE thank you to @dom1re and @thingsmaygetalittlecrazy for reading this oneshot recently and leaving me such amazing comments on ao3😭♥️♥️♥️ they made me reread this oneshot & I remembered how much I love it🫶

#im reposting bc it’s been over 6 months and I changed how I format my writing that I post here♥️#i teared up at your comment Domi 😭♥️♥️ give me some time to respond…🥹🫂🫂🫂#I also think I’m going to do a new illustration and repost legilimency too #bc I hate how they look rn and I’m so weird about this😭😭😭#anyways I LOVE IMELDA #AND LEST ANY OF YOU FORGET THIS IS AN IMELDA WLW SAFE BLOG😤😤♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanart #hphl #imelda reyes #poppy sweeting #imelda reyes x poppy sweeting #imelda x poppy #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #anyways hope you all enjoy this little peek into how I imagine Imelda🫶🫶🫶#idc if it’s canon or not it’s canon to me🥹🥹🥹

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thydungeongal · 1 day ago

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something ive been thinking about id love to get your thoughts on: i wonder how many people who stick with dnd 5e and effectively do all the game design themselves whilst insisting 5e ‘good’ just really like designing ttrpg (or at least mechanics) on their own? But don’t feel confident with making one from scratch? Especially with how much of dnd’s community is fueled by people designing their own shit thats ‘compatible’ with 5e?

perhaps they take criticisms of 5e at criticisms of their own game design ability?

not saying you’re wrong to go ‘play a different game’ btw!! I agree. Ive just noticed how people get excited to make up their own mechanics and wonder if this is the case.

I think there might be an element of that to it, yes. I know lots of people do enjoy just tinkering with D&D 5e, which is valid, and I can see how to those people criticisms of D&D might sting because there is the added element of having spent so much time and effort tinkering with it. Which isn't really the point: as I like to point out, I'm mostly interested in D&D the game as it exists as a text and the various contradictions between the text and how its players interact with it. So like. None of my critiques of D&D as a text apply to your house rules.

And ultimately creating your own RPG content is cool as hell and has always been a part of the hobby. It does require a good understanding of the game and its fundamentals, because it's extremely easy to design bad homebrew that simply doesn't work with the assumptions of the game it's made for.

Having said that, I also tend to think that homebrew is basically a game of diminishing returns: you can tune the basics of the system a little bit to make it work a bit better for your ends, and that will probably yield good results for you. But if you start hacking at core assumptions of the game you're going to start seeing less satisfying results for a lot of effort, and at that point people would emphatically be better off playing another game. D&D is for the most part a dungeon game (even though the exact shape and trappings of the dungeons may vary) and trying to hack it into an elf-kissing game will require a lot of ultimately thankless effort simply because you're going to need a lot more in-depth changing of the system besides just fucking around with the shape of the dice.

(and incidentally I feel that is part of the reason why so much of 5e compatible content is kind of mid at best. Since the culture of play surrounding the game is to an extent disconnected from the actual assumptions of the game, as incoherent as they may be at times, a lot of 5e content ends up being made without considering the fundamentals of D&D)

#thydungeongal answers #dungeons and dragons

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francesderwent · 1 day ago

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it’s interesting to me how close songs like “Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve” or “The Manuscript” get to a robust ethics of love versus use. beyond simply the assertion that leaving is a betrayal of love which ought to be forever, these songs contain a pretty strong rejection, specifically of sex where it did not belong and had no business appearing. she can say, not just you leaving was cowardly, you ruined something real, but I regret you all the time—I wouldn’t do it all over again, any of it. not just you hurt me within the bounds of our love story, but this wasn’t above board at all. it wasn’t love. you took advantage. another way to say this: “Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve” and “The Manuscript” recognize that sometimes sex is a sin. not leaving afterwards, but sex itself. for the first time, we’re presented with a love story that couldn’t have been saved by an eleventh hour confession of love, by “don’t go” or “I want you for worse or for better” or “the worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you”. the whole thing is rejected as poisoned.

but these songs can only make such a strong statement because there’s the age gap to point to. to the modern mind, it’s easier to recognize use when there’s a clear power imbalance, but I think we’re getting the causation wrong, or at least oversimplifying it. the reason there shouldn’t be sexual relationships between people of drastically different ages isn’t that older people and younger people exist as such in relationships of imbalanced power. a healthy relationship between a mentor and a mentee or a teacher and a student is about guidance and education and protection and respect. these things aren’t “good” exercises of power or restrained power, they are not exercises of power at all.

power enters into the equation when one party decides to use the other. this choice transforms every difference in the relationship into an inequality, every imbalance into a threat. this wasn’t always secretly there under the relationship, it’s a totally transformed new kind of relationship now that use has entered into it. the more differences and asymmetries there are to start with, the more dramatically unequal the new relationship is—not because the relationship was bad inevitably and to begin with! but because these relationships are more vulnerable and so bringing use into them is a greater corruption, which magnifies the damage that is always there. even a perfectly “equal” relationship becomes a power struggle when use enters into it.

but the further step which is invisible to modern eyes is that sex, outside of marriage, does this all on its own. somebody who sleeps with you without marrying you is using you, full stop. and as much as I think this revelation is between the lines of Tortured Poets (and I do think that, it’s in the parallels between the two men!), she can’t face it head-on. there is no she thought about how he said since they loved each other, everything had been above board…she wasn’t sure. because modernity is so convinced that that has to be above board. so the closest thing we get to a song that speaks to that creeping feeling that she was used again is the mashup of Sweet Nothing and Hoax, and her derisive conclusion: all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.

#the older I get the less convinced I am by ethics that translate everything into terms of power #power is not the only force in the world! it is ONE kind!#and it is entirely possible to have relationships that are not tainted by it let alone defined by it!#love is a ruthless game UNLESS you play it good and right!!!#no more keeping score now I just keep you warm!!#no more tug of war now I just know there’s more!#the fears of the archer are UNTRUE not everything comes down to combat in the end!#there are QUALITATIVELY different relationships not just shades of gray

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starbylers · 8 hours ago

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How much of “El” was actually in Will’s van speech, why this scene does NOT point to him letting Mike go, and what we actually know about Will's arc/Byler because of it

I know everyone jokes about the Will crying in the van shot so we sometimes forget how serious of a moment that was but like…..he was devastated. It’s always bothered me when people act as though this scene was about El in any genuine way, and that the message to take away is that Will is accepting Mike and El love each other and starting to move on. Both of these things couldn’t be further from the truth, they’re just convenient interpretations to fit a certain narrative.

In reality, Will assumed what El feels because he loves Mike, and that’s how he feels. There was no conversation between him & El, nothing Will ever witnessed, for him to determine that Mike "makes her feel like she’s better for being different”, that that helps her "fight". It’s what El wanted to feel from Mike, but she clearly didn’t (“You think I’m a monster too”). We never see Mike uplift her for her differences throughout the entire time they're dating, and then in s4 El gets a plot about feeling like she doesn't fit in (“I am different”) and actively lies to Mike about it ??? So...when exactly does Mike make her feel like she's "not a mistake at all"? El doesn't even feel safe giving him the opportunity, in fact she actively refuses to repeatedly: lying in her letters, asking Angela to lie to Mike at the rink, in their fight when he tries to understand & she tells him he doesn't. (And then when he tries in the monologue to use the sentiment “I love you for exactly who you are” etc.…she loses.)

And aside from that, explaining the painting and its meaning was the most blatant lie we see Will tell, and that’s all him. El didn't say all these wonderful things she loves about Mike, didn't create a gift inspired by something personal to Mike (DnD) to emphasise that message. Those were Will’s thoughts and feelings, unquestionably. There is nothing to suggest that El perceives Mike in that way ("the heart", "guiding the party, inspiring us", "without [you] we'd all fall apart"), that she understands Mike and knows exactly what to say to make him feel important, special and needed, that she loves him the way Will loves him (which just coincidentally happens to encompass exactly what Mike needs to hear to soothe his insecurities (“I’m just some random nerd” etc.)). And frankly even if we pretend El thinks the exact same things, Will was the one who did the work to make Mike happy. The idea that El should be able to coast on the efforts of someone else because "well she obviously feels the same way" (where ???) is kind of disturbing. Mike deserves better, and it makes no sense that the writers would narratively reward a love interest who put no effort into showing how much Mike is valued vs one who went above and beyond to make him feel loved.

That speech only applied to El insofar as Will sprinkles in "these past months she's been lost without you", "she's so different from other people", "we'd all fall apart, even El, especially El" and "if she was mean to you/seemed like she was pushing you away". Not because El said any of this, but because it's plausible for Will to come to these conclusions on his own and think he's correct (and even be partially correct). He knows El was doing awful in Lenora because she is different, he knows she's part of the group and has experienced Mike's leadership, he knows she fought with Mike and then left him. All of these things also affect him - he missed Mike's friendship while they were separated, he's different because of his sexuality, he's part of the group too, he "sabotaged" the day in Mike's eyes after not reaching out much and we know he's scared of losing Mike due to his feelings.

But the rest? "Of course she needs you Mike, she'll always need you", "You make her feel like she's not a mistake, like she's better for being different and that gives her the courage to fight", "if she [...] was pushing you away, it's just because she's scared of losing you" (I do think that one's partially true but Will wouldn't know beyond a guess), “if she was gonna lose you I think she’d want to get it over with quick", "El needs you and she always will” (and of course "El commissioned it" and the compliments he gives after)...who is Will to make those claims? He doesn't know how El feels, he didn't even know El was lying to Mike, she clearly doesn't confide in Will about her relationship. No, these things are all Will guessing/outright lying and letting his own feelings slip through. And just in general outside of Will, El hasn’t done/said anything elsewhere in the show to confirm that she feels any of this (in fact it was de-confirmed, in the case of the “better for being different” stuff).

Essentially, it’s all just Will's assumptions about El, some of which are based in reality and some of which are Will projecting. But most importantly, the reassurance and comfort he gives (the painting stuff) in response to Mike talking disparagingly about himself are Will and no-one else, and part of the most blatant lie he tells (“she told me what to draw [...] your coat of arms, it's a heart [...] without heart we'd fall apart”) is specifically what is called back to to push Mike into confessing!

Now, the idea of Will "accepting the reality" of Mike loving El is so ridiculously irrelevant. Will was heartbroken after he did what he did, this boy was literally sobbing out the window, but the whole reason he does is because he fully 100% believes Mike loves El. He knows, people! He spends the entire season giving Mike advice and pushing him towards her. Why would Will need to "accept" something he's been actively supporting before and during this scene? In his mind it's fully unrequited and he's operating within that reality in the most selfless, helpful, unobstructive way! He's not in denial, he has no hope.

What they really mean is he needs to move on and that this scene is somehow an indication that he is, but again, no: "[I] need you, and [I] always will" is Will's final projection before he cries his eyes out, and then later on we see him miserably staring at them again. The fact is, Will has accepted his "reality", that just didn't lead to him getting over Mike. No, it led to him sacrificing something he poured his heart into to save Mike’s relationship because he thinks that what will make Mike happy is to be with El, so he's making that happen. He is a bigger M!leven shipper than anyone. He still loves Mike, shows no signs of letting go, but he's just that selfless. And it's perfect, because no amount of knowing Mike loves El seems to change how much Will loves Mike. Incredibly inconvenient for a "plot" that relies on the gay character’s silly feelings magically disappearing out of reverence for a het couple and their deep soulmate love……

But this is why some people try to invent an imaginary arc where Will was somehow trying to get in the way of M!leven/had hope Mike could feel the same way, because otherwise you just get: Will likes Mike, knows it's hopeless, and then it randomly fizzles out lmao. Everyone knows that's not an arc; there's no change, no development, nothing learned. Plus, if Will is already in full acceptance of M!leven endgame…what’s next seaon's alleged rejection going to do/change? Nothing, Will’s feelings aren’t dependent on Mike reciprocating as has been shown, so the only purpose would be rubbing salt in the wound. And again, you end up with not an arc but a flat, depressing line. Will likes Mike, knows it's hopeless, has it painfully reaffirmed that yes it is hopeless, and then fizzle. If you know stories you know this makes zero sense, and therefore is not happening 👍

#byler #this is a self indulgent analysis/rant for myself & anyone who’s tired of the continued suggestion #that the only gay main character’s arc in relation to romance is to be happy for a straight couple and get over himself #I know the topic has been talked to death and we know it's not true. but I wanted to make it crystal clear with specific details #that the van scene is Not a part of that heteronormative fantasy #since I've never really talked about it in depth on my blog

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morningsharksworld · 1 day ago

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How does Hazard feel about sharks? As a marine science major, and shark lover, I always wondered that. Heck, it’s in your name! Morning shark! What kinda shark would he like? 🤔💭🦈

A/N: ANON I WILL SMOOCH YOU, IVE BEEN WAITING ALL MY LIFE FOR THIS (I’m using some of my shark knowledge on this so please do let me know if I get anything wrong)

Hazard and Sharks

- Initial Reaction to Your Love for Sharks

When you first mention your love for sharks, Hazard gives you a cheeky grin. "Sharks, aye? Could’ve gone fer somethin’ soft an’ fluffy, but nah, ye pick the sleek, deadly ones. Proper choice, I’ll give ye that." He’s not entirely sure why you’re so obsessed, but he’s entertained by your excitement.

- Listening to Your Rambling

Hazard secretly loves when you ramble about sharks, even if he acts like it’s no big deal. He’ll sit back, arms folded, and listen with an amused smirk. "Aye, go on, tell me aboot this ‘cookie-cutter’ shark again. Sounds like somethin’ out o’ a horror flick. Perfect fer ye, eh?" He might tease you, but you know he’s hanging on every word.

- His Secret Admiration for Sharks

As time goes on, he starts to get genuinely interested. He researches sharks on his own, just so he can impress you. "Did ye ken thon basking shark’s the second biggest fish in the sea? And it’s got nae teeth fer biting—just filters its food. No bad fer a gentle giant, eh?" He tries to play it cool, but he loves the way you light up when he gets it right.

Of course, he still loves teasing you. "So, if I paint myself grey an’ start swimmin’ in circles, d’ye reckon I’d be yer favorite shark? Or is the goblin shark still beatin’ me out?" He calls you "Shark bait" when you start rambling too much, but you know he finds it endearing.

- Hazard’s Favorite Shark

One day, while you’re talking about sharks, Hazard interrupts with a surprisingly genuine statement: "Ye ken what? I reckon the goblin shark’s my favorite. Look at that ugly bastard—looks like it crawled out o’ the deep tae scare folk silly. I like its style." He loves how weird and intimidating it is, and he insists it suits his vibe. "We’d make a good team, me an’ a goblin shark. Both mysterious, both deadly, aye?"

- His True Feelings About Sharks

Hazard eventually admits he respects sharks a lot. "Folk think they’re just teeth an’ terror, but they’re clever bastards. They know what they need an’ go after it. None o’ this faffin’ aboot—just straight tae the point. S’how I try tae live, tae be honest." He sees a lot of himself in them, which only deepens his appreciation.

Hazard finds your love for sharks endlessly fascinating because it shows how much you care about strength, survival, and beauty in the unexpected. "Ye see somethin’ in them that most folk miss. That’s what makes ye special, ye know? Ye’ve got a way o’ finding the good in things folk reckon are just trouble." He admires that about you, and it makes him want to see the world the way you do.

EXTRA:

- He now owns a BLÅHAJ named Duke Spike the third (it is his first plush, he named him the third to sound fancy) who he now sleeps with peacefully and comfortably…but he’s not telling anyone that :].

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #hazard overwatch #overwatch imagens #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #hazard x reader #request open #request #headcanon #i love sharks #I love em sm

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debussy42 · 2 days ago

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The Morning’s Embrace

just a small piece that stirs me enough to get out of bed in the mornings:’)

The air in the barracks was crisp with the promise of a new day. The sun had risen early, its soft light spilling through the frost-patterned windows, illuminating the faint wisps of breath that escaped from beneath the blankets. The fire in the hearth had long since burned out, leaving the room cool but not unkind, like the lingering touch of a winter breeze.

You woke slowly, the sunlight brushing across your face like a gentle hand. The quiet murmur of the world outside—distant bird calls and the faint shuffle of feet in the corridors—tugged you gently from sleep. You blinked, taking in the familiar shapes of the room: the wooden beams above, the neatly folded jacket at the foot of your bed, the soft rise and fall of someone’s breath across the room.

For a moment, you stayed there, suspended between sleep and wakefulness, savoring the rare quiet. But the cold wooden floor beckoned, and with a reluctant sigh, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your toes curling against the chill.

In the common room, the remnants of yesterday’s fire still carried the faint scent of ash and wood. Sasha was already there, crouched by the hearth with a loaf of bread balanced precariously on the edge of a long stick. Her face was illuminated by the glow of the rekindled flames, her expression one of utter concentration.

You stifled a laugh as you walked in. “Is that breakfast?”

She turned to you, her eyes bright and unapologetic. “It’s survival,” she said, her voice muffled by the corner of the bread she was already nibbling. “The bread’s from last night—Jean said it was too hard to eat, but I call that a challenge.”

“Or a hazard,” you replied, sitting down across from her.

“Hazard, challenge, same thing,” she said with a grin, pulling the bread back just before it could catch fire.

The room smelled warm and inviting now, a blend of toasting bread and faint embers. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in the simplicity of it—Sasha’s focus, the quiet hum of the fire, the slow way the morning unfolded.

The door creaked open, and Jean trudged in, his hair a mess and his face wearing an expression of someone who’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed. “Why does the sun hate me?” he muttered, collapsing onto the nearest chair.

“Morning to you too,” you said, smirking.

“Morning?” he said, gesturing dramatically toward the window. “More like blinding.”

Connie appeared behind him, grinning ear to ear. “Aw, Jean’s grumpy again. Guess the world didn’t revolve around him while he was sleeping.”

“Shut up, Connie,” Jean shot back, though his heart clearly wasn’t in it.

You watched the exchange with amused detachment as they bickered over something inconsequential—whether Connie had stolen Jean’s blanket last night, or maybe whether Jean had stolen Connie’s first.

Sasha, now armed with her perfectly toasted bread, chimed in with her own teasing commentary. “If you two spent half as much energy training as you do arguing, you’d be unstoppable.”

Connie gasped in mock betrayal. “Sasha?”

Mikasa entered next, her movements as fluid and composed as ever. She glanced around the room, taking stock of the small chaos unfolding before her, and then wordlessly set a kettle on the fire. Her presence immediately shifted the tone—calmer, quieter.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice soft but firm, as if it were an invitation to start fresh.

Armin followed not long after, his hair slightly mussed and his expression pleasantly neutral. He greeted everyone with a polite nod before settling onto the floor with a small book tucked under his arm. “It’s a good day for reading,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

“You always say that,” Connie pointed out, earning a small laugh from Armin.

“Because it’s always true,” Armin replied, opening his book.

It wasn’t until later, when the room had settled into a gentle hum of activity, that Levi appeared. His entrance was quiet, as always, his presence unassuming but commanding. He paused in the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

“Slacking off already?” he said, his tone dry but not unkind.

The room stilled briefly before everyone resumed their morning routines, muttering half-hearted excuses about needing a moment to wake up. But Levi’s gaze found you, and he gestured with a tilt of his head for you to follow him.

Outside, the air was sharp and bracing, the kind that woke you up in an instant. Levi stood by the edge of the training grounds, his hands tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed but alert.

“You’re quieter than usual this morning,” he said without turning around.

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Just… taking it all in, I guess.

Levi nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s not a bad habit. Most people don’t stop to look at what’s in front of them.”

There was a pause, the kind that felt deliberate. Levi wasn’t one to waste words, but his silences often spoke louder than anything he said.

“Do you ever think about what mornings like this mean?” you asked suddenly, surprising even yourself.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable but his eyes thoughtful. “They mean we’re still here,” he said simply. “That’s enough.”

The weight of his words settled over you, grounding and reassuring in a way you hadn’t expected. He looked at you for a moment longer, as if trying to read something in your face, before nodding slightly and heading back toward the barracks.

The morning carried on, slow and unhurried, with the group gradually coming to life. Jean and Connie eventually made their peace, Sasha shared the last of her bread, and Mikasa and Armin fell into an easy rhythm of conversation.

And as you sat by the hearth, your mug warm in your hands and Levi’s words lingering in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of gratitude—for the sunlight, for the stillness, and for the people around you who made mornings like this possible.

You glance back at Levi, wondering if he will ever come to join the group. Ruminating over his words, you feel a soft smile grace your lips as you soak in this moment around you.

“Mikasa, are you making tea?” You ask as you walk past her towards Armin, interest piqued by the book he’s reading.

Mikasa glances over her shoulder, her hands steady as she pours steaming water into a small teapot. “I am,” she replies softly. “Green tea. Do you want some?”

“I’d love some,” you say, the warmth in her offer adding to the coziness of the room. Mikasa nods once, her movements fluid and deliberate, as though every action is imbued with purpose.

You settle beside Armin, who barely looks up from his book as you approach, so absorbed is he in the pages. His lips are faintly parted, his brow furrowed in thought. You tilt your head to catch the title on the spine—“Essays on the Natural World.”

“Anything good in there?” you ask lightly, breaking the silence.

Armin startles, glancing up with wide blue eyes before relaxing into a soft smile. “Oh, good morning. It’s actually fascinating,” he says, lifting the book slightly. “This chapter is about migratory patterns. Did you know some birds navigate using the stars?”

Your interest is piqued, and you lean closer. “I didn’t. How do they do that?”

“It’s incredible,” he says, his excitement bubbling through. “Their instincts are so precise, but what’s even more interesting is how they adapt when conditions change. It’s this combination of innate guidance and learned behavior.”

The warmth of his enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself pulled into his quiet awe of the natural world. Sasha ambles over, nibbling on the last corner of her toasted bread.

“Birds and stars, huh?” she says, squatting down next to you both. “I mean, I guess that’s cool, but honestly, I just want to know how they find their way back to food.”

Armin chuckles softly. “That’s part of it too. Resource-driven navigation is a whole field of study.”

“I feel like Sasha would study it just to steal their tricks,” you tease, shooting her a grin.

Sasha grins back, unashamed. “Hey, survival is survival. If I could fly my way to a bakery, I wouldn’t even need you all anymore.”

“You’re not flying anywhere with that bread habit,” Jean says as he strides closer, his hair slightly neater than before but his perpetual exasperation intact.

“I’d outfly you, horseface,” Sasha retorts, her tone playful.

“Will you two ever stop?” Mikasa says, her voice cutting through the chatter with calm precision. She sets the teapot down on the table, steam curling like whispers of warmth in the air.

You take a cup gratefully, the ceramic warm against your hands. The taste is earthy and comforting, a quiet moment shared among friends.

As the room fills with soft conversation, you glance back toward the door, wondering if Levi might return. His absence lingers like a shadow, but not a heavy one. His words still echo faintly in your mind—“They mean we’re still here. That’s enough.”

The thought brings a soft smile to your lips. He’s not one for gatherings like this, you think, but his presence is always felt in quieter ways: a brief glance, a curt nod, a word that holds more weight than it seems.

“Mikasa, how do you always get this tea perfect?” you ask, turning back to her.

Mikasa shrugs modestly. “It’s just practice.”

Armin chimes in. “No, it’s more than that. Mikasa has a way of making even small things matter. Tea’s no exception.”

Her cheeks tint faintly pink, but she doesn’t respond, her usual stoic grace masking any embarrassment.

The group settles into a natural rhythm, with Connie trying—and failing—to best Jean in a game of cards, Sasha intermittently chiming in with advice that’s as questionable as it is entertaining. Armin reads aloud snippets from his book, drawing curious glances from Mikasa and occasional sarcastic commentary from Jean.

And through it all, the sunlight grows stronger, spilling over the table and onto the faces of the people around you. There’s a warmth here that doesn’t come from the tea or the fire—it’s the kind of comfort that only comes from being with people who make the weight of the world a little easier to bear.

As you sip your tea and watch them all, you can’t help but feel grateful for this moment, for this morning, for this group of misfits who have somehow become a family.

You look at Mikasa, smiling softly in an attempt to display your gratitude.

“Thank you, the tea is so warm and filling.” Wrapping your fingers around the tea cup, you use it as a feeble attempt to stave away the coldness creeping up to my fingers. You huddle further into my blanket in hopes of finding last moments of warmth before the day beckons you out. Humming thoughtfully, you look at Mikasa once again.

“Mikasa, do you mind if I pour an extra cup? I can think of a certain… Captain who would love the tea.” You chuckle lightly, already envisioning the Captain with his cup of tea that seems to be his sole means of company, if not for the occasional Erwin and Hange there to fill the silence.

Mikasa tilts her head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Of course. I’m sure Levi wouldn’t turn it down,” she says quietly, her voice steady but with a hint of amusement.

You nod, grateful for her understanding, and carefully pour an extra cup, letting the rich aroma waft upward. It’s funny, you think, how Levi—always so composed, so controlled—seems to soften with small things like this. Tea isn’t just fuel for him; it’s grounding, a brief moment to pause and be alone with his thoughts. You imagine him sitting there, back against the cool wall of the barracks, fingers curled around the warm ceramic, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sips, lost in thought.

You chuckle softly to yourself, already seeing it in your mind’s eye—the quiet, deliberate way he takes his tea, savoring the flavor and the warmth, more content in solitude than most. It’s strange, how something as simple as a cup of tea could feel so personal for someone like Levi.

“It might help him,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, though Mikasa picks up on it easily.

She nods slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Captain doesn’t like to rely on others… but sometimes, even he needs reminders.”

You look down at your own cup, your fingers gently circling the rim. The warmth is soothing, grounding. You can’t help but wonder what it might be like to offer something so simple and yet so meaningful—to bring a small moment of comfort to someone who rarely asks for it.

“Thank you,” you say again, your gratitude genuine as you glance at Mikasa, your smile softening. “For everything—this, and everything else.”

Mikasa regards you quietly, her dark eyes calm but perceptive. “You’ve been through a lot,” she says simply. “You deserve moments like this.”

And with that, you huddle deeper into your blanket, warmth spreading from your fingers to your chest, the lingering scent of tea filling the air. You hum softly, letting the moment stretch a little longer, a tiny oasis before the demands of the day pull you back into motion.

As you sit there, cup in hand, you can’t shake the thought of Levi, alone but not truly alone—holding that same fragile warmth you now feel in your own hands. Maybe, just maybe, something as simple as tea could bridge that quiet gap between solitude and connection.

You pause for a brief moment, your fingers tightening slightly around the two steaming cups. The warmth feels both comforting and slightly foreign against the chill creeping up your spine. The ache in your bones protests against standing, but the thought of Levi—alone up there, just as you expected—makes you take one deliberate step forward. You wrestle with the decision for a heartbeat longer. Would it really be such a disruption to his quiet, solitary space?

A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth despite yourself. He’ll never let you live it down. You can already imagine the snide remarks, the sharp edge to his words when he’s forced to pull away from his thoughts, only to face you standing there with a cup in hand.

You shake your head slightly, stifling the quiet laugh bubbling at your throat, and gently step away from the warmth of the blanket cocoon. The cold air brushes against your skin, a stark contrast to the comfort you’ve just left behind. With each deliberate step forward, your eyes flick down the hall toward the top floor balcony—Levi’s usual spot. You know it well by now, a place where he often finds a small pocket of peace away from the chaos that usually surrounds everyone else.

Softening your steps, you tread lightly down the hallway, the clink of porcelain cups echoing slightly with each movement. The steam curls lazily from the two cups you carry, tendrils of warmth weaving upward and dissipating into the dim glow of morning. You pause for a moment, your fingers lingering slightly on the ceramic, the warmth grounding you before you continue.

But just as you reach the corner leading toward the balcony, you hear it—the familiar voices. Commander Erwin and Hange—their voices carried softly through the hall, mingling with the hum of conversation as they discuss something in low tones.

Your steps falter for just a heartbeat. You hadn’t anticipated running into them, and now the thought of barging into Levi’s space feels like it might be unnecessarily intrusive. You glance back toward the cozy scene you’ve just left—Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Jean—those you’ve come to know so well. The warmth and laughter lingering in that room seem miles away from where you stand now.

But curiosity pulls at you. Is Levi really here this early in the morning? You bite your lip gently, unsure if you should continue. Still, you take a careful breath, then adjust your grip on the cups, moving slightly closer to the corner. Soft murmurs drift down the hallway, too low to make out clearly, though you can hear Hange’s usual infectious enthusiasm bubbling just beyond your reach.

With a quiet sigh, you gather your resolve and step forward again, light but steady, your gaze fixed ahead. You weave carefully past the corner, your attention momentarily drawn toward the sound—but soon, your eyes settle on something else entirely.

Levi.

He stands there, as expected, at the railing of the top floor balcony. His posture is straight, composed, but something about him—about this moment—feels different. The way he leans slightly against the stone, the subtle tension in his shoulders that betrays the usual air of calm. His fingers curl slightly around the railing, his gaze distant, lost in something only he sees.

You pause again for a heartbeat, two cups still clutched in your hands, warmth spilling into the space between you. It’s not the intrusion you had anticipated—he doesn’t seem annoyed, not yet at least. His dark eyes shift slightly, though he doesn’t move. You get the sense he feels your presence, even before you speak.

“Levi,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence between you, hesitant but steady.

His head turns slightly at the sound, his gaze sharpening, though there’s no real irritation in his expression—just quiet acknowledgment. He studies you briefly, those dark eyes of his flicking from your face to the cups you hold out. The tension in his stance loosens slightly, though only barely.

“I brought you some tea,” you offer carefully, your tone soft, almost tentative, unsure if he’ll accept or brush it aside. The two cups in your hands are still warm, the steam curling in gentle spirals.

Levi’s lips press together for a moment, as though considering whether to dismiss your gesture outright, but eventually, his eyes soften slightly—just enough. Without a word, he takes the cup from you, his fingers grazing yours for the briefest moment. The gesture feels quiet, deliberate, though not uncomfortable.

“You think I need tea this early?” he mutters, his voice low but with a faint undertone of amusement—just enough to keep it from being entirely sarcastic.

You smile faintly, watching as he brings the cup to his lips, the warmth seeping into his fingers. “I thought you might appreciate it,” you reply gently, voice light but sincere. “Even you deserve a little quiet sometimes.”

He grunts softly in response, a subtle shift in his posture, though his gaze lingers on you for a beat longer—silent, contemplative. His expression is guarded, but something in his stance speaks to quiet gratitude. Not the kind he often shows outwardly, but enough to make you feel you’ve done something right.

You lean slightly against the stone railing next to him, letting the silence settle between you—an understanding, unspoken connection built on quiet moments like this. The sun filters through the soft morning light, casting a warm glow across the horizon, and you allow yourself to enjoy the moment—watching Levi in this rare, still moment.

He sips at the tea once more, his eyes drifting upward toward the distant sky. For once, there’s no edge to his expression—just a fleeting softness, something you rarely get to see.

It’s a reminder, you think to yourself, that even someone like Levi, who thrives on solitude, can find a quiet comfort in simple gestures—like tea, like shared silence—if only someone gives him the space to accept it. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve done enough to earn that space today.

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aikoiya · 9 hours ago

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Oh, don't even get me started! It was so good! Though, my mom also made a sort of mocha bundt cake with chopped pecans & walnuts. It wasn't as chocolatey or moist as my aunt’s Texas sheet cake, but goodness if it didn’t get close! (I actually got the recipe for that one & thought of 1 or 2 ways to improve it! 😃)

You know what? Fair. Totally understandable. I do love the whole happy Zelink ending. It's always nice when we get that.

True, the tragic end very much isn't SS’ intended vibe, but in a way, that makes the idea even more tragic. Though, I feel like bringing up the unfairness of the situation is a bit moot because life's never really been fair. It sure as heck wasn't fair that Sky & Sun had to deal with so much. Likewise, it also wasn't fair that Hylia had to sacrifice so much, die, & give up her godhood in the process. It's also not fair that most of the time that Impa got to spend with Sun was so hecktic.

Still, when you view it from the perspective of the player, I can see why you say it. At the same time, this all takes place behind the scenes as subtext. Similarly, I think it's not quite right that this other Zelda wouldn’t have a happy ending, just that she wouldn't have the one she'd wanted, making it more bittersweet than the ending in the game. Which is pretty endemic of life, in-general, I think. Not to mention, could be a very good lesson to players that not everything is going to work out how you hoped, but that doesn't mean that you can't find happiness.

It's entirely possible that Sun ended up living a good life. Possibly marrying a nice Sheikah gentleman (heck, reaincarnation is still a thing, so he might've even be Sky's previous incarnation; 2000+ years is a pretty long time), having kiddos, spending real time with Impa until they form a sisterhood. And, honestly, maybe that's the point? Look at things from this other Sun's perspective & keep in mind her tendency towards martyrdom. Not only that, the fact that she seems to love just being Link's Zelda, herself.

So, if there were 2 Suns & 1 not only wasn't aware of the other, but also had a chance at that happy ending they both wanted, what do you suppose the other Sun would do? Because in this case, there was really only 2 options: Reveal herself to the pair, thereby complicating things for all 3 of them, embittering their ending unnecessarily, & making things awkward or hiding herself from them so that at least one Zelda gets her happy ending.

I mean, true. But it's confirmed that Farore is the Goddess of Wind in WW & I'm pretty sure that in the OoT beta, the statue of the Goddess of the Sand was Din (however, the Zelda encyclopedia instead calls the statue of an evil deity, but both the statue being Din & the statue being of an evil deity, should be taken with a grain of salt). Though, even if that weren't the case, I feel like it's a bit strange to try & limit a fictional deity to a singular domain, besides what is time if not giving order to events so that they make sense?

It's possible that Hylia is the Goddess of Time, but I'll go over the points, too.

True! Though, I wasn't so much meaning the Gate of Time (that is very clearly related to Hylia), but instead the giant blue blocks from OoT that you use the Song of Time to get rid of. And the light that shows up when you use the song on them. Both are very blue. So, I dunno… I guess it's complicated, ya know?

True, can't argue with that. Though, it's very possible that the Ocarina of Time & the hilt of the Master Sword are both made of Timeshift Stones, which, similarly, also shines blue. Something to also keep in mind is that those stones showed up in the Lanayru region, which was where Nayru's Flame & its dragon guardian had been. Not to mention, the gears that showed up to turn the Gate of Time were also blue & so was the inside of the Gate.

Mmm… But what does “from the edge of time” even mean? Like, I know what it says, but it seems just vague enough that she could either be literal… Or poetic. And considering… Just… the flipping Isle of Songs… Yeah, girl was a theater kid, just sayin’. So, I'd legit give it 50/50 odds for either.

True.

Ah… Question. Could you explain more what you mean by a new timeline? Do you mean, literally creating a new timeline or just… placing a pebble in the stream to create a new path? Because, I was always under the impression that Lullaby just sent Time back in time to some vague point before having obtained the Zora Sapphire using the Song of Time. If so, then that’s not necessarily sending him to a new timeline until Link, himself, then changed the course of events of his own accord. Like, to me, that’s a lot more simple than sending him to a literal new timeline, much less creating a new one. Like… how would that work? Making a copy of a timeline or something? Wouldn't that essentially be the same as recreating reality from its very foundation on her own & controlling the events up to the point she wanted him to go back to? But without the aid of the other goddesses, thereby suggesting that she's more powerful than the Golden Three combined? I mean, she could've probably done it had she used the Triforce, but you'd think there'd be an indication of it had she done so. It just seems easier to simply send Link a bit further back in time, but that's just me.

Again, true & I can’t find an argument for the complexity of Hylia's plans.

See, now, I actually think it wouldn’t be very restrictive at all as it very much depends on what you consider “order” & “time” to be. For one, it’s never really specified what sort of time, so she could be the goddess of cyclical time, linear time, opportune time, foresight, ect. Or, perhaps all are under her domain & Hylia could’ve been a goddess of foresight or history. For example, Greek mythology has 3 different time deities: Aion, Cronus, & Kairos. All three are time deities. However, they each represent different sorts of time. Aion was the manifestation of cyclical time; the phenomenon of history repeating itself. Cronus was a god of linear time; a progression of events from point a to point b & then c. Finally, Kairos was a god of opportune time or simply timing. So,

Something of specific interest, Tingle once states in Wind Waker that Farore is the Goddess of Wind, so in my mind, this means that the Golden Goddesses all likely have other domains besides the ones associated with the Triforce. Which would absolutely make sense considering that the same is true IRL.

And you're fine! I don’t mind.

Well, to be fair, we don't know if Talon was always so lazy. It's possible that he'd been more Sonic lazy in that he loved to relax & laze about & may even have had a tendency to procrastinate, but when it was actually time to work, buddy WORKED!! (Which is a lot like my own dad. That man knows how to work & work hard, especially at his job, but when he's at home, he's fairly lazy.) Who knows? Maybe losing his wife caused him to lose a part of himself?

Though, I do think that Talon probably inherited the ranch.

Sidenote: Something I recently learned, “Mabe” is the name of a type of Japanese freshwater pearl. I just found that interesting. I'm also renaming the Hylian villages to fall more in-line with the local languages I have for them. So, they'll have 2 names: 1 in their native tongue & one in Hyrulean Common. Like how the local Italian name for Venice is Venezia. I haven't finished them all yet, but I'm liking it so far.

Right?! If nothing else, I'd imagine that a Roc's Feather would at least give their flaps more lift.

Ooo! You're right! Different races of Researchers would be a cool idea! I wonder what sort of tech would be brought in? And, to be honest, having more scientists would allow them to work on more things even without the main Researchers paying attention!

Fair. I guess that you just said, “assassins” & my lizard brain automatically went: assassins → ninjas → Sheikah, so my bad. But dang, that sounds cool! It'd also be a good idea to send in the Sheikah warriors when a Yiga Base is especially fortified. So, they'd be used as undercover agents or something.

Thank you!!

And I know, right?? I am still bent outta shape over not getting legit pirates! Like, it wasn't just Lurelin that teased the idea, either. There was also that one lady at the East Akkala Stable, I think, who was super worried over it & the pirates on Eventide Island. Like... The ideas were interesting, but I would've loved to see some actual brigands!

Hmmm! This is an interesting idea! Though, the problem is that I can't really call a baybed a “yard,” now can I? (Or is the literal translation of vignoble supposed to mean "noble vine?") Clos might work. As, from what I understand, a clos is a walled vineyard, so I could approximate the fields that the sea-grapes grow on as an aquatic clos or “aquaticlos” if that isn't too terribly horrible of an idea. Because, one of the problems with building up a fantasy culture that isn't like our own is that you suddenly need to put yourself in their shoes.

For instance, I’ve recently begun to look up a lot in regards to algaes & halophytic crops in order to workshop a realistic agriculture for the Zora. So, to me, this would indicate that for the Sea Zora, sea-grapes likely came before the terrestrial vine grapes that we tend to automatically think of when we hear the word “grapes.” As a result, I think the word "raisins” would more naturally be used in reference to sea-grapes & like how, IRL, “raisins de mer,” refers to sea-grapes, I wouldn't be surprised if a more realistic depiction of the Zora would have them calling Refreshing Grapes, “Raisins de Terre Potentio” or “Terraisins Potentio” rather than just “Raisins Potentio.”

That, or the word for grapes that they use is “Raizins” & “Raisins” would be a newer term coined specifically for the grapes that grow ashore.

(Sorry, I'm always worried about butchering another culture's language. Because while a bit of linguistic difference is very plausible when talking about a different universe, I still want to remain faithful to the spirit of that language. So, my apologies if it feels like I'm taking advantage. 😥)

And, you’re welcome! But, don’t think it’s just outta the goodness of my heart. I also actually enjoy helping people iron out these sorts of things.

@aikoiya The post was getting too long so I’m replying here, hope that’s okay! If anyone is looking for the beginning of this discussion, it's here.

Your extended pantheon is amazing! I just knew that Gàlondo would end up being Demise haha. I'd say I prefer not to associate Demise with any race in particular (and the Gerudo already have quite a heavy burden with Ganondorf), but otherwise I like that backstory you came up with. So what's Hylia's role in your version then if he’s the guardian of the Triforce? I'm curious ^^

I'd say my reasoning isn't so much "I hate this" but rather "this doesn't make sense/contradicts something else" or "previous games did this better". I also want to show that it's still possible to create stories without ignoring everything that was established previously because to me this idea that the timeline is too restrictive doesn't stand. In fact I tend to believe being a bit restricted and working inside a frame can trigger more creativity (after all they did wild stuff like flooding Hyrule before and it fits perfectly in the timeline). I also would prefer to see the existing lore extended or clarified instead of them adding new confusing stuff and leaving it extremely vague.

Oh I LOVE your Outset Timeline!! Though the ending is indeed very bittersweet. It always makes me so happy when someone else points out the inconsistencies in Skyward Sword's story. That's exactly my reasoning for my fourth timeline, it exists because of Ghirahim and Link's victory over Demise in the distant past. Though you are right, adding a timeline split while keeping the Master Sword in the official timeline requires some gymnastics! At the moment I'm going with a lazy theory about the Sealed Temple being the future Temple of Time, so the Temple's magic somehow allows the Master Sword to exist in both timelines (I said it was lazy haha). Impa’s bracelet is another story though. In my timeline the Goddess Sword is also left untouched in Skyloft because Skyward Sword doesn't happen, which could be useful in case someone accidentally broke the actual Master Sword 😁 It's very intriguing to me that Sky left the sword in the past when he had no reason to (and it shouldn't even be possible since it's in the exact same spot as Zelda's crystal). It's probably just a mistake on Nintendo's part but I like to think there could be something else there, and that Fi had a reason to stay in the past.

About the DLC items the thing is that most sets are found in the Depths in random Zonai chests if I remember correctly, or in the coliseums, and there was no explanation as to how they got there. In Misko's little shrines we find the Fierce Deity set and the LA set, but also the barbarian armor, the shock-resistant outfit and the climbing gear. I can understand building shrines for the Fierce Deity or LA Link following what you said, but then for three random armor sets? Not to mention that Link already owned them in BotW, so making us look for them a second time was kind of a joke. I like this shintai/yorishiro idea, but I think it would work a lot better if there were only a few items to collect and not… the outfits of all the Links ever INCLUDING WILD'S (how!!). It feels really meaningless and more like a catalogue for you to choose from so you can look like your favorite Link (which is a bit insulting to Wild, you can just replace him at this point and go as far as changing his hair or even his entire appearance with the LA set). I also didn't really believe they were the actual items from past games, it made no sense (the same way Link wouldn't actually wear a red Nintendo Switch t-shirt or something from Xenoblade). It just really felt like fanservice.

The dictionary thing might help, but I think the story should be explicit enough on its own and I don't really want to study Buddhism/Shintoism in depth so that I can play Zelda games and understand what's happening haha. I mean of course it's fine if knowing a bit about it adds new context and all, but if you can't understand things like malice vs. gloom without it then I think it's a bit of a problem. Speaking of Fujibayashi I feel like this wasn't really an issue before he was in charge.

Yes the French translation for Demise is very misleading, that's another problem: depending on your language things are sometimes interpreted very differently.

I really like the English names for the three dragons, I think they're so much better than what we got in French. Nedrac, Ordrac and Rhordrac, really?? At first I didn't even understand the link with the Goddesses, and then the last two sound way too similar. Btw I remember from my very basic Japanese courses that it's common in Japanese to create new words by mixing a few syllables of other words together. For example "rimokon" means remote controller (remo + con), or there's the well known Pokemon = pocket monsters. So naturally we end up with stuff like Ordinn + dragon etc.

I thought as well about the dragons going by names given to them by mortals instead of their true names. The thing is, I don't really want to create new names because I'm already changing so many things and my timeline stuff can be a bit complicated, so I need to keep at least a few things familiar. And I really like Dinraal, Farosh and Naydra :D

I agree about Farore being more associated to wind and plants than thunder (I mean she's kind of Link's patron goddess and he has nothing to do with thunder). What's even more confusing in BotW/TotK is that the Gerudo are now also related to thunder for some reason, but they're definitely more Din than Farore in my mind.

Maybe I should give you some context about my dragons haha. The beginning of my story is quite similar to TotK, though I still made some changes. Ganondorf completely destroys the Master Sword, Link looses his arm (except here Rauru isn't there to replace it), and Zelda still travels through time (but not because of a Secret Stone since I got rid of everything Zonai). She arrives in ancient Hyrule one century after Sky killed Demise (because this is set in my alternate timeline), and she's stuck there so she needs to find a way back home. Before that she learns a lot about SS, the Triforce, the timeline split and Hyrule's past. After meeting various characters and most importantly Sonia (who's still a priestess, the Sage of Time and her ancestor), Zelda learns that this era has two Master Swords: the one left by Sky in the Sealed Temple, and the Goddess Sword that is still somewhere above the clouds. She understands then that she needs to retrieve the Goddess Sword in Skyloft and forge a second Master Sword in order to help her Link in the future, and to do so she needs the three Sacred Flames. Where are the flames? The dragons "swallowed" them since they weren't needed anymore after Sky left his own Master Sword, which turned them into the giant immortal dragons we see in BotW/TotK. So that's Zelda's quest: find a way to go to Skyloft and then get the dragons to lend her their power. Along the way she'll also meet the ancient Sages, who can help her return to her own time by using the Triforce (but of course this won't work because of Ganondorf, and Link will have to fight him in the present and bring her back himself).

I'm trying to make this both a story I could adapt in comic form and something that could work as a game. The idea is that Zelda's memories would be playable sequences with places to explore, fights and maybe even mini-dungeons and bosses. And of course there's an entire story for Link as well. At the moment I'm trying to come up with interesting arcs and quests for each race/Sage, both in the past and the present.

Anyway, that's why I'm so focused on the dragons. Zelda (and Link) will need their help and they will talk this time. And since they will remember being apointed by Hylia and they're supposed to absorb their respective sacred flames, I need things to make sense. This is also a timeline without climate change in Lanayru (here it's the same province as in BotW with the addition of Mount Lanayru and a good part of central Hyrule), so the thunder dragon has no business being up there. That's why the swap would make sense.

No need to apologise! I appreciate your perspective and that you're interested enough to share your own ideas! :D

I agree on Zelda's magic being her own and what you said makes sense! Love the part about her only thinking about how she's a failure (though I guess it's only natural if she's been trying for 10 years without result). I don't know if she would have had the same reaction had she witnessed her father's death though. AoC isn't canon but Zelda doesn't unlock her power when Rhoam "dies" in front of her and Link forces her to run. The memory where's she's crying in Link's arms in BotW also shows that she knows everyone is dead, it's even possible that she saw some of it happen (maybe in the same way as AoC for Rhoam, or they saw what happened to the Divine Beasts from afar). I guess they must also have seen some terrible things on the roads, so she could have unlocked her power trying to save her people. But it only happened when Link was about to die.

Haha yes, I'm probably one of the most obsessed Zelink shipper there is and even I can't stand that power of love trope. It really has no place in a LoZ game. In my headcanon Zelda wouldn't access her power only because of her love for Link, though it definitely helps, but rather because the Hero dying is kind of an emergency situation and would trigger her divine magic even if the necessary conditions were not met. I don't know if that makes sense to anyone but me though 😆

Yeah I'm okay with the women of the royal family having some sort of power though not as powerful as Zelda. I think some part of it could also be attributed to their Sage of Time abilities. And the gift of prophecy being inherited from Sky is such a cute idea!!

I don't know about Terrako, I only remember that Zelda built it when she was just a child?

I'd send you an ask to rant about TotK but I'm not sure about the character limit and I fear it would just turn into a second wall of text haha! Here are some thoughts:

– I could live with new lore that contradicts older games, if only things made sense and were sufficiently fleshed out. Then I could just enjoy the story and accept that this is a different continuity. But here everything is so vague and sometimes even confusing. Like if we're going to meet the Zonai and make them such central figures in Hyrule's history, then I want to know more about them and learn about their culture. What's the point if we're only going to see two of them and have no clue about how they created all that technology, mined the Depth, lived with the Hylians, and then disappeared? Same for ancient Hyrule: if the different tribes were at war, I want to see it, and I want to learn more about them. Ganondorf also had so much potential for an interesting backstory. What kind of king is he? How did the Gerudo feel about him becoming the Demon King? What about the Gerudo Sage? And so on. It feels like this could be so much more.

– Other things I would love to see explained: where is the Master Sword in ancient Hyrule and why does no one seem to know anything about it or the Hero? How does it travel through time to reach Zelda? What about Rauru and Sonia's descendants? Also what was the point of the fake Zelda, and why did Ganondorf stay in his bathtub the entire game instead of rehydrating himself right away and getting stuff done? There's also everything I said about the secret stones the other day, but I know you don't see it as a problem ^^ (Also I just rewatched the memories and I had completely forgotten what Rauru tells Zelda in front of Sonia's grave: "Remember, that was a future where you never appeared in this world". So does this mean this is a new timeline that kind of retcons BotW? If not then where did all the Sheikah tech go and how were the shrines replaced by the Zonai ones? I really need an explanation for all of that!!)

– The game also barely mentions what happened in BotW, except for the history class about the Calamity in Hateno, the statues in Zora's Domain, and the memorials left by Zelda to honor the dead. I wanted to see Hyrule starting to rebuild and to get some sort of follow-up on the story. Did Link regain all his memories? Was Zelda planning to take the throne? Does she have some sort of trauma after her century-long battle against Ganon at Hyrule Castle? Why does she react to Ganondorf's name, but doesn't link him to Calamity Ganon? Why did the Sheikah tech that was so central in BotW disappear, especially the Divine Beasts? I care about this world and its characters, I want it to feel like a real place and to see it evolve. But then stuff like this really reminds you that this is just a video game world, and that Nintendo doesn't really seem to care. And if things can be retconned any moment even in a direct sequel, then… why should I feel invested?

– There was a real waste of potential with the Light Dragon and Zelda just transforming back thanks to Rauru and Sonia (btw couldn't they have helped if they could appear anytime and still had that kind of power?). I find it so disappointing that Link doesn't have to do anything to help Zelda, it almost happens by accident. Mineru also said it was irreversible, but in the end it's no big deal (they shouldn't establish something and then ignore it like that). If only Link had to use the Triforce or something. I didn't want Zelda to stay a dragon but sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been a better ending.

– It also really doesn't help that Link feels so disconnected from the main story. In BotW he was also experimenting the story through flashbacks but at least they were his own memories and they fleshed out his relationship with Zelda and the other Champions. Here Zelda is the one experimenting the best part of the story, and to make it worse you can find the memories in any order and get badly spoiled. It could have been so cool if Link also time traveled at some point and could explore ancient Hyrule (and they could have done something crazy like Link and Zelda being the ones to seal Ganondorf in the past, which would lead to his transformation into Calamity Ganon). Link is also so expressionless (except when cooking and all) that I find it hard to care when he doesn't seem to. Imagine how different Zelda sealing herself would feel in Skyward Sword if Sky didn't act so distraught. In the same way TotK would hit a lot harder if Link did stuff like falling to his knees after seeing Zelda's last memory.

– I also think that the hands/cooperation theme the devs talked about in interviews is a bit weak and cliché (with characters reminding Link and Rauru that they don't have to do things alone and that they're stronger together, stuff like that). First I don't find it very interesting compared to what games such as OoT, MM or Wind Waker did, and then Link being able to fight Ganondorf alone from the start kind of throws it out the window (and Rauru also ends up sealing Ganondorf on his own). The Sages are not even with Link outside of the dungeons, they just create creepy copies of themselves (and I found them so annoying I never activated them, except for Tulin when flying). But yeah sure they shake hands and vow to help Link. I still think him being accompanied by the Champion's spirits in BotW worked a lot better, and their powers were also more useful. I guess seeing everyone working together to rebuild Hyrule would have made that theme more meaningful. The thing I really liked about this though was Link finally catching Zelda in the end after failing at the beginning of the game, that was a really beautiful scene.

– Also I said it above but I don’t want everything to be explained by Buddhism/Shintoism parallels, especially if the game just expects you to get it without providing context. Let Hyrule be it’s own thing.

So I know this isn't only about lore, but these are the main reasons why I'm not very interested in TotK. To sum up I'd say that the game lacks some kind of depth and has a lot of wasted potential, and it also makes it clear that it's pointless to care about continuity. BotW Hyrule was interesting and I think a lot of things could have been done about existing races instead of adding a new one but not bothering to do much with it. Just bringing Ganondorf back in this version of Hyrule and see how the Gerudo react to him could be so interesting!! Some concepts were also excellent but didn't really go anywhere, like the Depths and the Sky Islands.

Honestly I haven't thought about all these side quests and minor characters yet, I'm still trying to sort things out with the main story ^^ But I don't think I'll touch the ones you mentioned, they were fine. I liked the thing with the Eighth Heroine as well, I've seen a lot of people complaining about it but it's one of the only things in the game I actually found interesting. I just can't unsee the parallel with Link and the Seven Sages (of course).

What I'll be doing for sure is making some of the quests and events more serious, I'm kind of aiming for a darker tone. Most of the quests are quite fun (especially the "potential princess sightings" ones), but I feel like this game really lacks some sense of danger and urgency. For example couldn't the people in Hateno have more pressing problems than making cheese or choosing between Cece and Reede? Or was it really a good idea to make lighthearted little quests about misanderstandings with Zelda when her disappearance should be driving Link mad? (I should have included that in my little rant above haha)

I'd also love to make the pirates in Lurelin something more interesting than just a bunch of Bokoblins, but I'm not there yet. And rebuilding the exact same village was kind of meh.

About the Gerudo questioning their traditions, I'm actually planning for my Ganondorf to be a lot more active and go to Gerudo Town in order to meet his people (I want him to care about them, so he wouldn't attack them the same way he targets the others). I don't have all the details yet but I'm pretty sure there will be a conflict between Riju's supporters and other Gerudo who believe he's their rightful ruler (at first they wouldn't know he's actually that one king who turned into Calamity Ganon). So that's another tradition for them to question.

The consequences of Ganondorf being the only Gerudo male are something I've been wondering about as well. Add to that the fact that he's raised to be king because he's male (and maybe even kind of worshiped by his people) and you get something that can turn nasty real quick. Though I also wonder if Gerudo aren't different from Hylians. You said you hc that the Gerudo are only women because they were cursed so it makes sense that you would view it this way, but on my part I believe that's just how they were created. For that reason I think this is natural for them, so it's possible that it doesn't cause exactly the same problems it would for us or for Hylians.

About Demise, yes of course Ganondorf is more than just Demise's hatred. But in this game it doesn't seem to matter, he kind of turns into a second Demise as soon as he gets his secret stone and his motivations instantly go from conquering/ruling to destroying everything and everyone. They could have done something a lot more nuanced or at least shown a more gradual transition, with him being more and more consumed by his hatred and loosing control for example. I don't know, anything that would look less like a comically caricatural villain riding a demon unicorn.

Also about Demise's curse, I always thought it sounded more like a warning than an actual curse, and I remember reading somewhere that this was the intention in the original Japanese text. In French Demise even says something like "you must never forget, history will repeat itself" instead of "I will rise again", and he and speaks of the curse of the demon tribe (implying that it existed before). Even in English it doesn't sound like Demise himself is casting a curse: "Those like you… Those who share the blood of the Goddess and the spirit of the Hero… They are eternally bound to this curse". He doesn't say "I curse you" or "I bound you to this curse". I feel like this makes a difference (the curse already exists). This is why I interpret it as him basically saying that evil will not die with him and that Link and Zelda/the Hylians as a whole will always have to fight the demon tribe, but not necessarily his reincarnation. So I don't even believe that Demise himself is influencing Ganondorf in any way.

About the Zonai Zelda explains she studied them at the beginning of TotK and recognizes what's depicted on the murals, so it seems strange that sky beings could get mixed with a tribe of barbarians living in the woods. But yeah history getting lost and mixed is the only explanation for this.

Oh you're completely right about the Mogma, I got the same vibe from them! And a Mogma mafia sounds hilarious ^^ I love the Rocktato, Link would definitely eat something like that 😆

I need to take some time to read through your master list, it all looks very promising!

#aikoiya #loz #zelda #zelda lore #zelda theory #jullbnt #this is a cool conversation

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