#lmao try seeing what’s written about Max every day

[fcb-mv33]

Always makes me giggle when certain fans are like “why is max not calling out the abuse x driver is getting” because lmao said driver literally drip feeds shit for the English media to abuse Max with AND said drivers own father liked a tweet wishing silverstone 21 to happen to Max again SO???

Also never seen any driver called out the abuse Max consistently faces from media, teams, other drivers, fans etc

[loaksky]

— 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦

the lowdown — the one where you and neteyam are a sure thing. 

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 2.5k

the tags & warnings — none other than possible language! this is just really sappy & self-indulgent lmao, childhood bffs2l, both parties are so in love but SCARED.

the notes — based off of this request! got a lil carried away bc i love neteyam <3

masterlist

Everyone would argue that you and Neteyam are written in the stars. 

You two had been whispered about far before your coming of age, at the start of your youth when they’d notice that Neteyam was extra soft and you were extra shy. And it had been natural, really. He was the olo’eyktan’s son, and you were the sweet daughter of the olo’eyktan’s most cherished friend and dearest partner in crime. 

At first Neteyam had vehemently denied it, cheeks flushing at the mere mention of your name, but after many sweet moments, you’d grown so much on him, he couldn’t hide his fondness even if he tried. 

You were charming and resolved growing up, often times spending afternoons reading under the shade of leafy plants near the edge of the village. It’s the same spot Neteyam would pass on his journeys into the forest, unable to contain his smile as he sees the faint indent of where you’d lay outlined in the grass. 

You were an eager learner, going through lab materials and borrowed media from Norm and Max who’d visit the village every once in a while. You’d applied a lot of what you learned to your practice, training under Mo’at, Neytiri, and your mother in the chance that one day you’d lead the clan in their spiritual endeavors. 

It was one of the things that Neteyam admired most about you, your quiet drive. Your passion and your commitment to your craft. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but feed into it, into you. 

He’d hound the scientists in the lab for more content for you, would come back with stacks and stacks of books that would make your cheeks warm. And he’d hand bind you journals, fashion you utensils and smash various fruits and petals to a fine paste for you to compile your findings. 

There wasn’t a thing that Neteyam wouldn’t do for you, any lengths he wouldn’t travel just to see you beam up at him with that radiant smile. Neteyam could admit wholeheartedly that he was whipped. 

“Thanks, Teyam,” you’d say gently, arms winding around his waist in a crushing hug. “Appreciate you.” 

His breath would hitch and he’d just grin. 

It didn’t help that you were so achingly beautiful, made his throat bob every time a gleam of sun would refract over your dimpled cheeks. Made his cheeks warm and his body freeze when your skin, soft and smooth, would brush his in accidental touches. 

There was only one small little issue. 

It was a conversation he’d try and fail to have with you multiple times over the course of your adolescence and into your young adulthood. At first, it was unspoken, he was certain it was the two of you for life, but as you trained and passed your rite, the final piece to your coming of age was fast approaching; selecting someone to spend your time with. 

He was a year your senior and the rumor mill was alight with buzz. He hadn’t chosen someone on the night of his feast, had suspended the selection in favor of urging everyone that the timing wasn’t right. 

This didn’t deter a number of fine women from the village taking their chances, advance after gutsy advance that would always end with the sound declaration that he was already waiting for someone. 

That had only solidified the village’s theory about the two of you, that he was holding out for you, waiting until you chose him right back to claim you as his own. It was a sweet thing, most of them felt, would cast tender looks every time the two of you would interact under their watchful gazes. 

But you were a creature of habit, didn’t like being under such prying eyes, yet too nice to let it be known. Neteyam knew, though. Would steer clear of curious glances, would spend whatever free time he had soaking up every moment with you in the shield of the forest. 

He was a strong man with only one weakness: you. 

He’d thought he made himself clear with that, thought that everyone knew that you were spoken for and it was his mighty word, but he comes to find out that there are many young men who’ve been lingering, waiting for any opportunity. 

This much he notices when an especially buff warrior with a narrow waist and broad shoulders emerges from the outskirts and starts hanging around a little more often. 

Ku’aro, Neteyam thinks his name is. 

It had started off innocent, a small thanks for a healing session Mo’at and your mother let you lead when he hurt himself in a hunting party, but Neteyam knew better than to think that no other man would succumb to your charms. 

It continued with bundles of flowers, fruits, little trinkets Ku’aro would surprise you with when Neteyam had other responsibilities he had to tend to. And it wouldn’t have bothered him as much if he’d never seen the little gifts again, but you’re too sweet for your own good, displaying them on the same ledge in your tent.

They take up room next to every one of his thoughtful gestures and the thought of sharing your attention with another man makes him prickle with envy. 

But he could live with it if it made you happy, could push aside his pride and keep his irritation mum if the gift-giving was all it was. But now Ku’aro is starting to chisel into his time with you, stealing you away for walks through the forest, swims in the river. 

And it makes him absolutely seethe, makes him exceptionally angry every time you emerge from the brush with Ku’aro hot on your heels. His mind races and he can’t help the sick thought of you being with someone who isn’t him seep into every crevice of his brain. 

Had you two ever…kissed? You weren’t the type of girl, but things change and he’s not above admitting that he’s as jealous as they come. 

“Something wrong, Teyam?” you ask, looking up from your book. 

He’s sighed for the fourth time in the hour, fidgeting so uncomfortably that you’ve been rereading the same sentence for the past ten minutes because you can’t concentrate. 

His tense shoulders relax when he meets your viscous gaze, lips parting because the forest is darkening with the impending eclipse and you look so soft and glowy. 

He clears his throat. 

“No,” he coughs. “All good.” 

You don’t seem to buy it, head tilting as you inspect your friend carefully, book dog-eared and set off to the side as you shuffle nearer. 

The aroma of herbs and spice, the tang of petals, surrounds him as you press a hand to his forehead, the other to his chest. 

You have to feel it, the way his heart is pounding audaciously. 

“Your heart’s beating fast, Teyam,” you observe. “And you’re warm.” 

“S’just a little hot,” he swallows, hands circling your wrists to pry your touch away. 

You lean back on your haunches, still in his grasp as you peer up at his pinched expression. 

In all your years of closely orbiting the olo’eyktan’s son, you know that something weighs heavy on his mind. He bears a great burden regardless, but something is different this time around. 

“We’re friends, Teyam,” you say tenderly. He could literally melt. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Of course he could, you’re the most understanding person he knows, the purest of hearts. But he doesn’t want to spook you, scare you into resignation by interrogating your budding relationship with Ku’aro. 

So he treads carefully. 

“Your selection feast is approaching,” he says breathily, blinking down at you. 

You mull over it for a moment, a smile spreading over your full lips. 

“It is,” you agree, pulling away to toy with your fingers.

A few prolonged lapses of silence pass before Neteyam continues to try and fill in the gaps. 

“Have you…” He shrugs. “…thought of someone yet?” 

Of course you had, you’d know it from the very beginning, no second thoughts needed. It had always been you and Neteyam since the beginning, thick as thieves. 

There have been many things you’ve been uncertain of growing up, but there’s one thing that you’re sure of, and it’s that Neteyam is your end game. 

“I have,” you hum simply. 

He waits with bated breath, eyes unblinking. 

You don’t continue and he’s opening his mouth to ask you to clarify, but the brush starts rustling and Ku’aro’s emerging. 

He wants to let out the most frustrated groan of disapproval when Ku’aro’s eyes light up. Wants to grill you more but knows that he’ll have to wait who knows how long before he can get you alone to press again. 

But what he doesn’t know is that the looming feast is your grand gesture, the occasion you’ve been mustering your courage for for years. You like to think it’s the least he deserves after years of his blatant displays of affection. 

“Wanna go for a walk?” Ku’aro asks, holding up a woven bag of what smells like spartan fruits. 

Your eyes flit to Neteyam’s and he can see the promise that lingers there as your hands squeezes his gently. 

“See you soon,” you say, collecting your things before standing to your feet. 

He knows you mean it, knows that you never make a promise that you can’t keep, but he can’t help the feeling of dread that coils tight in the pit of his stomach.

Ku’aro stands a little too close as you two walk through the forest, eating the spartan fruits that he’d picked before he sought you out. 

“I have to ask you something,” he says, after a pregnant pause. 

You turn just in time for him to nearly barrel into you, strong hands coming to right your stance. You stomach knots when you notice he’s close, eyes gentle and glowing as he gazes down at you. 

“Yeah?” you peep, body tense as his fingers skim your biceps, down your forearms and clasp your hands. 

You’d held hands with Neteyam countless times, had spent so much time in his space, that the touch of another isn’t lost on you, but this makes you feel queasy. 

You ease away. 

“I need to be courageous,” he says. “I know your selection feast is approaching and…” 

You know what he’s going to say. You’ve dreaded it this entire time, hoped that village gossip and the copious amounts of time you’d spend with Neteyam would be the glaringly obvious sign that you weren’t interested in anything beyond a friendship. 

“Ku’aro…” you sigh and his face falls a fraction. 

He’s already pieced it together in his head. 

“It really is him, huh?” 

He’d known. Of course he did. No one was blind to it, just wishful thinking on his part that maybe he could get you to see someone else. 

But your heart was locked up tight, an impenetrable fortress that refused to unravel for anyone but him. 

“I’m sorry,” you say apologetically, then add, “you have been very kind to me, and a woman will see your great heart one day, but it can’t be me.” 

His smile is sad, but he’s known it was a losing battle going in, worth a shot if anything.

His shoulders shake with a defeated laugh. 

“He’s a lucky ass,” he says, extending the remaining fruits to you. “My peace offering to him. I know he’s been boiling recently.” 

Your walk with Ku’aro couldn’t have been more than a hour, but Neteyam waits for what feels like an eternity. He’s lingering in the same spot you’d left him, spacing out as he paces, waiting for your arrival. 

His body goes rigid when he feels a pair of arms circle around his waist from behind, but relaxes when he wafts the familiar scent of herbs and spice. 

“Hi,” he whispers, voice hoarse from disuse. 

He turns to face you, brushing your hair behind your shoulders to get a good look at your face. And despite wracking his brain for the latter part of the hour you were gone, he tries to get a grip on his composure. 

“Have fun?” he asks, insides gooey as your face angles towards his, chin poking his chest as your eyes curve into crescents along with your smile. 

“Was okay,” you tell him. “He let me bring back the rest of the fruits.”

Neteyam resists an eyeroll. 

“Probably dry,” he remarks quietly and you can’t help the full laugh that leaves your lips at his snarky remark. 

You wanted to put it off until the night of the feast, but you can tell there’s an internal warfare that agonizes him. You were shy, not a fool, had known that he was waiting for any concrete evidence that you’d chosen him. 

And at first you thought it was obvious, could read him like one of your books. But you hadn’t realized that maybe you weren’t that easy to read, years of growing up learning how to remain composed for your potential role leaving you internalizing every feeling. 

“You asked me about my selection feast…” you trail off, making him shiver when you start drawing small shapes on his spine. 

“Uh huh,” he agrees shakily. 

“You’re curious, huh?” you ask. 

“You could say that,” he laughs, but you hear the twinge of uncertainty. 

It makes a ripple of sadness work through your veins. 

“Well…” you start. “I like someone. A lot.” 

The flame of hope flickering in his chest dances, the smile on your face an obvious tell. 

“Do you now?” 

He should’ve knew never to doubt you, should’ve known with the same ferocity as the other villagers that you two truly were written in the stars. 

You hum in agreement. 

“You gonna tell me about him?” he bites. 

You peel away from him, shy, even though you know that there isn’t a surer thing on the moon. You tilt your head, grin bashful as you clasp your hands behind your back and start pacing. 

“Well, the most important thing is that he is kind,” you say, pausing to think for a moment. “And he’s strong, a great warrior and very brave.” 

His chest pumps infinitesimally.

“I think he cares a lot about me,” you continue, then correct yourself, “I know he does. He is gracious and so thoughtful, never makes me second guess myself. He is my greatest supporter and makes me want to be a better person.” 

Neteyam’s smile is unbridled. 

“Most of all, he is my best friend,” you swallow, eyes searching his. “And while I love every person who has made me who I am today, nothing compares to how much I love him.” 

His breath hitches at the words, your first official declaration. 

“And it doesn’t help that he’s very, very, very handsome,” you add, standing before him.

Your eyes settle on the beadwork of his choker, too sheepish to meet his eyes as you brush non-existent debris off his shoulders. 

His fingers catch yours and you look up find that tears are welling in his eyes. 

“Teyam,” you coo, a watery laugh leaving your lips at that sight of the usually poised leader-in-training showing far more emotion than you’d seen in the lifetime you’ve known him.

“Don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that,” he chuffs, head bending forward to rest on your shoulder. 

You want to tease him, ask him if he’ll say it back, but you already know. 

Everybody does. 

neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Guilt Tripping - Yan! Diluc

Yandere Diluc x Fem! Reader

part 1 of the “Baby Trapping” series

Warnings: Toxic relationship, general yandere themes, guilt tripping (I think), emotional manipulation, slight victim blaming (I think?), drugging, implied future physical violence (Not towards reader), possessive and obsessive thoughts and behavior, overprotectiveness, overbearing actions, controlling actions/mindset, unhealthy and toxic mindset, paranoia, implied Yandere! Albedo (Towards a different reader of perhaps the same mini-series of this).

Not sfw warnings: Baby trapping, dub-c0n/non-c0n, unprotected sEx, cumming inside without permission, unconsensual and unethical use of aphrodisiacs, vaginal fingering, clothed grinding, loss of virginity (both parties and totally didn't forget to add this warning until now)

Diluc is straight up gaslighting himself in this. He’s aware of how awful he is but keeps justifying it lmao.

Please tell me if I missed any warnings that are needed.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT condone any of the toxic behavior and thoughts that may take place in this work of fiction. None of this should be romanticize or even considered normal as it is very toxic and very dangerous. If you find yourself in such a situation, please seek help if able to.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

WARNING: DUE TO TUMBLR’S SHITTY TAGGING SYSTEM, NOT EVERY TRIGGER WARNING WILL BE TAGGED, SO PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS THAT ARE WRITTEN ABOVE. THANK YOU.

MINORS AND AGLESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. THANK YOU.

Unedited.

Word count: 5134k

===

Diluc was aware that he could be… overbearing, at times. He’s aware that his presence can be suffocating, that he can be a bit delusional at times, and that he’s a bit controlling when it comes to you. But be doesn’t mean to do that on purpose – you just manage to bring out both the worse and the best out of him.

Whether or not you’re aware of that fact is up for debate.

He’s been preparing for the day you snap and talk back, or to take some ‘much needed’ space from the relationship. He can’t deny that your sanity is slowly withering away the more you deal with him. Again, he doesn’t mean to make you so stressed.

He just wants what’s best for you, as long as you come back into his arms. There are understandings at times, where you listen instead of charging away like a bull. He knows that you know he cares deeply for you, loves you to the moon and back. That he’d be willing to do almost anything for you.

Anything but this.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

One sentence, five words, is all it takes for his words to come crashing down around him. ‘I need a break’ implies you’ll be back after a week or so. It’s happened once or twice throughout your entire two years of your relationship. And it never lasted more than a week, max.

Diluc can feel the thin thread snapping like a nose around a neck. He swears that the world comes to a halt at your words, seeing nothing but white. Is he undergoing shock? Perhaps he heard you wrong. Yeah, that’s it – you must have said something else. A prank maybe? Or maybe you mixed up your words.

“What… what do you mean?” He hates the way his voice cracks, how shaky his hands become, even when they’re clenched hard enough to snap metal into two. Your facial expression doesn’t show any signs of playfulness.

There’s nothing playful about this situation.

You let out a sigh, fingers massaging your temple. “I said… I’m breaking up with you. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t deal with you anymore.” Your voice cracks, and there’s a silent sob. There’s a huff, an intake of air.

You’re trying your best not to break down in front of him. And he’s doing the same, fists clenching and unclenching as he thinks of something to say. What should he say? That you can’t leave? It’ll only make things more complicated, making you hostile towards him.

He can’t have that. He just can’t. but even so, he finds himself about to utter those words out loud. He bites his tongue.

“…I thought I was good to you. While… I do understand that I can get overbearing at times… I thought I was a good lover to you regardless of.” He tries to keep himself in check. Diluc was nothing but a good gentleman in your eyes, so he acts as such. Although, that illusion may be gone now.

“That’s the problem! You think you’re a good boyfriend. But you’re not. you’re so… overbearing and controlling. I can’t even talk to people you don’t approve of!” Your own thread had seemingly snapped, leaving nothing more than rage behind. Quite, dull rage that’s too exhausting to come out at once.

“You say it’s for my own good… that I need your protection…”

“I never said that- “

“You implied it. Every. Single. Time. you always imply it.”

There’s nothing but silence. There’s a guilty conscience. He can’t ignore it, but he won’t address it. Because that means he’ll have to let go. And he won’t, not even in death, where hell will surely drag him down. He’ll drag you if he has to.

“We can… let’s just talk about this, okay? No need to make any rash decisions.” He’s talking out of his ass right now. “It’s… been a stressful week. It’s late and we both got out of work not too long ago. Let’s just… how about you come over?”

You don’t say anything, not at first. A glimmer of hope. Yes, everything will go back to normal, over a glass or two, ending with you being a whimpering mess as he grinds against you. Just like always.

“No. I can’t… I won’t do that. It always has the same outcome anyway. We never ‘talk’, you just sweet talk your way out, and it ends with some type of sexual activity.”  You shake your head, taking a step back. He takes a step forward.

It feels wrong for you to stand so far away. Alien. You should be next to him, no, in his arms as he soothes you. Reality and fantasy don’t mix well, he realizes. “Please,” he tries again, choking on air.

It can’t end like this. It can’t end at all.

“Diluc… I can’t. I just can’t. I know it may be hard for you to understand but, whether you realize it or not… you treat me like a doll. A pretty, fragile, glass doll.” You don’t look him in the eyes, probably can’t.

To be fair, it felt worse on your own end. You loved this man. You wanted to marry him. But it’s in past tense and you’re not sure if you can keep up this happy façade. He’s nothing but controlling at this point, overprotective, suffocating. You can’t live in denial anymore.

Another sigh, another sob. With every step he takes towards you, you take one back. There’s an invisible wall between you, too hard to shatter. At least completely.

“Hey… let’s talk again in a week. When the steam blows off, okay?” You try not to break, he sees it. The way your body tenses, the slight tumble. He makes an effort to not point it out. “Please?”

And you cave, breaking down, wailing like a child. You don’t move away, only flinching as he closes in on you, gently and slowly wrapping his arms around you. his grip on you is loose, not wanting to chase you away. Gentle, he must be gentle.

It’s always worked in the past. He just needs to tweak a few things to guarantee victory. Anything for you, no matter how shady it may be. His morals become dubious when it comes to you.

A few minutes pass before you answer.

“Alright.”

--

Truthfully, you didn’t want to go, your resolve going down the drain whenever it came to you. But you had already promised you would, weak in that moment. But he knew. He knew that you would eventually succumb to his wishes. It happens every time.

And it ends with heated kisses, hands exploring each other’s bodies, promises to wait for the full act after marriage huffed into your ears. Despite the bulge straining in his pants, hazy eyes that kept looking at your kiss swollen lips, he never did anything you were uncomfortable with. And for that, you were grateful. But it doesn’t excuse his other behavior.

Something didn’t feel right. You were nothing short of tense, weary of what’s to come. Would he try to pull something? Or procced to guilt trip you once more, as unknowingly as usual? You could never tell with him, despite dating for two years.

Two years and he became a different person.

No. Beneath that gentlemanly exterior lies a control, obsessive and possessive freak. And you fell for it, the charm, the words, the looks. You dug your own grave without even knowing. And now it’s time to dig your way out, no matter how painful it may be.

You just hope your resolve will stay strong.

It must.

--

Diluc was nervous. It was more common these days, a nervous Diluc. He can’t help it but to be nervous around you. You were just so pretty, adorable, irresistible. And there was a time where you thought the same, where you couldn’t even take your eyes off of him. And yet, you don’t anymore.

He’s aware why. It’s because of him. But you need to understand was for your protection. He has too many enemies, there’s too much danger in the outside world. Surly, you would come around eventually, right?

Wrong. He was so, so wrong. He should have kept up with the gentle approach, no matter the amount of years it might have taken. It’s not too late to restart… right?

Just act the way you always portrayed him as. His mask has slipped too much too quickly. And now, he needs to fix everything as quickly as possible. The question is how to.

He glances at the wine bottle. A little drug as curiosity of Sir Albedo… a new and up coming drug. An aphrodisiac is what he called it. It was still in its developmental stages, but harmless. He was even given the right dose.

A questioning look in the alchemist’s eyes, no concerns were voiced. Most likely thought it wasn’t his business. And besides… even the esteemed Alchemist Albedo Kreideprinz had skeletons in his closet. Likeminded people must stick together, right?

And thus, the aphrodisiac was handed to him under the table, and now in this ‘new’ and ‘unopened’ bottle of wine. The cork was a new one, the previous one hastily thrown into the trash, covered with other discarded things. Not a smooth cover-up, but one you wouldn’t notice. And, if you were to ask for juice, he even drugged that beforehand.

He flinches slightly when a servant comes up to him, announcing your appearance. He takes in a deep breath before grabbing the bottle and two glasses, making his way to the study. When he gets there, he pauses. Would he be able to pull this off?

If you do ask for it, he has your consent, right? Yes, you wanted to save yourself for marriage but…

He shakes his head, ridding himself of those thoughts. He’ll back down if he thinks about too much. So, he takes a deep breath, straightens himself. His feet feel heavy as he walks into the room. He keeps the door open.

“(name). You came.”

You jolt at that, whipping your head around to see his figure at the doorway.

“Yes… just for a bit. This isn’t a casual visit, after all.” You built a wall around yourself, trying to smile but failing. He doesn’t comment on it.

“Ah. I suppose that’s… right.” Awkward silence, your hands tightly clasping together. His own grip on the glasses and bottle are tight as well. Swiftly, he places the objects down on the table in front of you. Everything has to be perfect. This night needs to end on a good note.

“Wine?” he asks, eyeing the way your jaw tenses as you hesitate to answer. You want to say no, he can see it, feel it. And hopefully, you won’t. His legs are already shaking like a newborn foal’s.

“I… sure.” A quiet sigh of relieve, and he opens the bottle, a loud ‘pop’ echoing in the room. You don’t take your eyes off of it. You’re weary of him. And he doesn’t have the right to complain or even feel offended.

Because you were right to be weary. To be weary of him.

He pours you a glass and himself one. He’s going to take the drug with you. God, he’s already silently regretting this. Not because he’s tricking you (although that’s part of it), but because he’ll have to explain, in detail (something he dreads, but a favor is a favor) of the results. He hates himself for being used a test subject and ragging you into it.

He can’t feel bad, considering he was the one who chose this route.

“Thank you…” you say as he passes a glass to you. He sits in front of you, the plush chair soft against him. He takes a sip.

“So… about our relationship… do you truly want to end it? We can work through this together.” He croaks out, trying his best not to ramble. He takes a deep breath, calming his nerves. He can do this.

“… I’m not sure if this relationship is savable. Two years and you’ve just gotten… worse. Much worse than you have gotten better. It’s like you’ve been possessed.” He can see your eyes water up, but you don’t let them fall.

He wants to wipe them away.

“What do you mean?” He’s never felt so scared in his life. He hates this. He hates himself. “It’s just… I know I can get overbearing, and I promise that I don’t do it on purpose-“

You cut him off, “That’s the problem. You don’t do it on purpose. It’s harder to resent you that way.”

Resent him? What do you mean by that?

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do. You’re… you used to be a good boyfriend. Someone I wanted to marry… but you’re not that same person anymore. And I’m not sure if we can fix this… if you can fix yourself. I’m not a therapist… yet you treated me as one for years.”

Your shoulders slack and you don’t make an effort to look at him. You don’t make an effort to drink the wine either.

He can feel his heart breaking. What should he do? What can he do? Crying (a rare sight indeed) won’t do anything. It’ll only prove you right if he cries and begs for you to reconsider. He needs you to drink the wine. A good amount of it.

He takes another swing, enough to the point the glass is almost empty. Too much at once, he hasn’t even eaten yet. He wants to eat you. But not when you’re crying like this.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that I was that… inconsiderate.” Ever so slowly, he takes small steps towards you. You don’t resist when he gets on his knees, gently placing his head on your lap. His arms wrap around your legs. And, almost as if it was natural, your hand comes town to thread fingers through his hair.

Even when you ‘resent’ him, you still comfort him. You really were too good for him. But it’s because of that he doesn’t want to let go. No. he’d never let you go. He’ll drag you to hell if he has to.

“… To think the esteemed Diluc would beg on his knees… hah,” a humorless laugh that shakes him through his core. You sound tired, so, so tired. You’re really going to give up on him. Was he really that bad? Sure, maybe he overshared, at times, and was a bit controlling, but…

He never hit you. Never raised his voice at you.

He’s in denial. He doesn’t want to admit to his mistakes right now. He’ll do it (probably) after you two make up. He’ll do it once you say you won’t leave, that you won’t give up on him, on the relationship. You’re all he has left.

His father’s dead, his ‘brother’ is a spy, he can’t really get along with anyone on an emotional level. Anyone except you. You know this, so why are you putting him through this? Can’t you see he needs you?

God helps the poor soul would dare take you away.

“… I’m sorry. I really am,” useless, he’s so useless right now. Helpless, he hates himself, he hates you. “I… can’t lose you. I love you, you know that, right?” Like he wasn’t the one pushing you away with his behavior and actions.

He’s a horrible person, a dreadful and emotional abusive boyfriend. The naked eye can’t see it, but a trained one can. Likeminded people can. The victim can.

“Diluc… sit down, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick,” you run your fingers through his red mop of hair before retreating it. No, no, no, you can’t do that. You just can’t.

You have to drink the wine. You need to understand he’s protecting you. You need to understand he needs you. So, stay, please.

Don’t make things even more complicated.

“… do you love me?” He looks up, eyes glossy and he watches as your strong façade crumble. He was your weakness as you were his. You’re perfect for each other, however toxic the relationship may be.

“I… I don’t know anymore. I feel like I love you, but I know I shouldn’t.” Shaking your head, you gently push at his shoulders. The effort is weak, almost meaningless. He gives a squeeze before getting up and returning to his seat.

It’s when he sits down, head falling into his hands, when you take a swing. He hears you slam the glass on the mahogany wood. Hope lights up in his chest, but even so, it feels so wrong. But he needs to do this. For him. For you.

How selfish of a person he was.

“… I can’t promise I won’t fall back into the habit, but –“

“You said that last time. And here we are, again. You say you’ll do better, that you’ll listen. Sure, you do, but only for a week. And then the cycle repeats.” You sigh out, now crying, finally breaking down despite everything.

Sobs, ugly sobs that he hates to hear. He’s not sure when he got up, or how long he’s been hugging you, but he knows that you need comfort. Maybe not from him, but he’s the only one here anyway. The servants are outside, cleaning the yard, tending to the grapes, shooing of pests.

Just you and him. No-one will hear, and even if they did… who are they to question their boss? Money talks.

You stay like that, for a while. Crying in his arms as he strokes your hair. He’s not sure when you had stopped, and completely forgotten about the drug.

He only remembers it when his body starts to heat up. And the same must be said for you, as you’re quivering in his grasp. The way you quiver whenever he drags you across his crotch, erection making contact with your clothed pussy.

Like right now, your hips rolling against his as he practically dragged you to the couch in the study once you started to kiss out of pure lust. You’re panting above him, eyes shut tight. Maybe you didn’t want to see him. He hates it, but that’s okay. As long as you’re here, with him, and not thinking of another man.

“Fuck… my body’s hot. I’m scared yet I can’t stop… did you put something in the drink?” You question him, voice broken and breathy as you keep rolling your hips. Harder, faster, more friction, you need him as much as he needs you. He’ll get you, and you’ll have him.

Like it’s supposed to be.

“Are you… mmh… that weary of me?” You’re far too gone to properly hear him, chasing pleasure above answers. His gloved fingers tug at your skirt, wanting it off. He wants to see you bare. Patience... patience, he tells himself.

A squeal, mouth open and he can’t help but kiss you. saliva everywhere, any pretense of a breakup gone. For now. And yet you both don’t care, delving into the pits of pleasure that’ll never be enough. He bites your lips hard enough to draw blood, you claw at his neck deep enough to see crimson.

You hurt and take, hurt and take. You break his heart, he’ll break your mind on his cock. Just… be good.

“Diluc… wedding… I want to wait – oh! – but… ah… not sure if I can…” you’re groping yourself, thumb ribbing at where your nipple would be. Too many clothes, hot, clit throbbing while grinding against him like there’s no tomorrow. Diluc takes this chance to tease you, just a bit.

“Wedding… you still want to marry me?” There’s a slight teasing to it, and he proceeds to kiss your neck. Gently, gently, so gentle you want more. He wants to drive you crazy. “But, of course, if you want it now, I won’t say no…”

Another moan, another messy kiss. Your lips are raw by now, and you’re not sure when he dragged the front of your shirt down, sucking on the bare skin before him. He bites your neck, leaving marks, he gropes your breasts, your hands now tugging at his hair.

He hisses at the sting, but it only drives him to do more. His free hand dives under your dress, the skirt of it wrinkled now.

“Diluc… please, fuck, I need you,” you breathe out, grinding against his hand as he teases you through your underwear. Slowly, he brings his hand back, using his teeth to take his glove off. Almost, he’s almost there. He needs to loosen you up. Hopefully, hopefully this drug will help with the pain.

Ah. Blood.

He needs to do this in the bedroom, easier to change the sheets.

--

You’re naked in no time, and despite the drug running through your veins like fire, you’re still scared. Very scared, and he feels so horrible about it. and yet, yet he can’t stop himself for shit. He’s horrible, shitty, controlling, obsessive, possessive, and desperate. Paranoid to a fault, he plans on tying you to him via family.

It’s hard to raise a child on your own. Reputation is important, and everyone would lose respect for you, for a good while at first. And besides… they would know who the father was. If they inherit his features, be it the red hair or ruby eyes, they’ll know. They’ll blame one of you, both of you, taking one side or the other.

Thus, it’s just overall easier to stay together, avoiding controversy. A horrible and risky plan. But you would need the support, the funds, the father. It’s harder, nearly impossible to run away from him in such a state.

“Hey… it’ll be okay. I’ll take it slow, alright?” He reassures you, smiling down at you gently. He’s always imagined you like this – a panting mess, lips kiss swollen, hair sprayed around his pillow and your hair. Bite marks everywhere, nipples tendered from being sucked on so much.

He’ll make a mental note to be more gentle next time. But for now, he trails down his hand, fingers ghosting over your burning skin. Shaky breaths, and he can’t take his eyes off of the way you stare downwards. He’s naked too, his own hickies littering his neck like a necklace.

“G-gentle…,” you breathe out, legs shaking in both fear and anticipation. You can’t wait, and neither can he. So he doesn’t, tracking your slick slit once before slowly entering. A gasp, and h looks up to make sure you weren’t in too much pain.

Instead, he’s met with the sight of you biting your lips, pleasure written all over your face. The drug works, it’s helping with the pain. Making things far easier than he thought it would be. He’ll make sure to thank Albedo to the moon and back.

“Diluc…” He’s brought back to reality when you whimper his name, and he softly shushes you. If you say his name like that one more time, he might just slip in without any prep. Without any consideration.

“Shh… there’s no need to rush. Let’s try to take our time, okay?” He kisses your forehead, finger curling slightly inside you. The way you arch your back is heavenly, the drug making you far more sensitive. “I’ll take good care of you. Promise.”

Nodding, you relax, allowing him to add a second finger. It feels rushed despite his words, but you don’t comment on it. You can’t, not when he’s curling them oh so deliciously. And he knows this, he’s not completely lost in lust just yet. He needs to drown you in pleasure, drive you crazy with it before he succumb to his own desire completely.

Just a bit more.

The squelching echoes in his room, bouncing off the walls. His ribs had become a drum, his heart the stick. Small, needy breaths that leave your lips, crying out when he curls his fingers at a certain angle. Oh. He found it.

Your g-spot.

He’s heard of it, and thought it was rubbish at first. Until Adelinde smacked his head when he suggested such a thing. The Head Maid made sure to educate him on sex that day, showing diagrams and pictures, along with books written about the subject. He’s almost entirely forgotten about it.

“There?” he asks, repeating the action once more. You nod your head several times and in quick succession – too lucid to properly beg, too desperate to fully think it thoroughly. “Such a needy little thing,” a third finger elicits a hiss from you, causing him to pause. He waits until you give him the green light.

“It – it feels weird… but good at the same time. Is this normal?” Croaking, you’re croaking out sentences now, and Diluc resists the urge to kiss you until you run out of breath. Your fingers grasp at his shoulders, trembling slightly. He can’t tell if it’s from fear or pleasure.

For his own sanity, he hopes it’s the latter.

“I’m… not sure. I think it is. Just tell me if it’s too much, and I’ll slow down.”

He didn’t say he would stop.

Diluc sees the worry in your eyes, the questions he won’t answer, and he feels guilty. It’s far too late to stop, and even if you were to ask him of it, he wouldn’t be able to. So he gives you the illusion of choice, and from the way your eyes travel down to where he’s fingering you, he can only guess you chose to ignore the reasoning in your head. What a good girl you are for and to him. Like always.

“Diluc… Diluc…” your eyes shut tight, breathing heavier as he fastens his pace, fingers pumping in and out while curling all the same. You need this too, right? He can’t force you if you were the one who asked for it.

Your belly tightens, and hips grind against the hell of his palm. You’re almost there, he thinks. You’re becoming wild, all pretense of rationally gone with the wind. He’s there, he’s there, you’re there, shivering in the palm of his hand. Like you should be.

“Ah, ah, fuck!” One more buck of your hips and he feels something wet. Upon looking down, he notices something red, very thing and small, mixed with a clear liquid. Did you cum? He feels bad for making you bleed already*.

Your chest heaves, and for a moment, he’s afraid you’ll come back to your sense. You’ll hate him for sure. But his own body is burning, cock twitching, and he’s going to die if you resist. Please, just make everything simple and easy. Please, for both of your sakes.

He gives you time to recover despite the urge to fuck you silly. Patience, patience, at least pretend to be a gentleman he tells himself. Anything and everything for you. Except letting you go.

“Do you need a breather?” gently, gently he removes his fingers, trying his best to treat you nicely. He tries not to grit his teeth when you nod your head. He’s already doing something awful. He needs to make you comfortable, at the very least.

A few minutes before you calm down, laying flat on your back, hands leaving him and choosing to grip his sheets instead. You’re distancing yourself from him. A bit lucid, but enough to resist.

“Alright… please be gentle,” closing your eyes, your arousal is still there, you still need him as badly as he needs you. He doesn’t wait a second to hover above you properly. His place, this is his place, you’re his and will always be his. You signed your faith the moment you appeared in his life.

“Gentle…,” he tells himself, taking in a deep breath. It stings you when he pushes in, slowly and gentle like he promised. Hands grip your hips, and he leans back on his heels a bit. You gasp, from pleasure mostly, and he stills. Be a gentleman in appearance, at least.

One second, two seconds, and at ten he starts to move. a deep sigh of pleasure from you both, yours higher than his. The tone was different compared to when you dragged your hips across his, clothes separating you. But now, now he can feel everything – the thought of a condom never having crossed your mind once. Good, everything is sailing smoothly.

“You’re, ngh, tight… fuck, you’re driving me crazy angel.” Unexpectedly, you mewl at the nickname, and without meaning too, he gives a hard thrust. Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him. One thrust, two thrust, and you’re begging him to fuck you harder at the fifth one, legs wrapping around his waist and hands clawing at his chest.

He loves you like this; he wants you remain so needy for him. “Diluc! Fuck, don’t stop!” Both blood and slick cover his cock and make a mess on his bed. He’ll have to give you a warm towel after this, a glass of water. And a lie about cumming inside.

“It feels good, fuck why did we wait so long?” His hips can’t stop moving as he questions you. You don’t answer, you can’t when you’re moaning like a whore. And he loves it, he loves the fact that only he can make you this way. He loves the fact that he’ll be your first and last partner.

He might hurt a man who would dare to attempt to do the same.

It doesn’t last long, neither of you do. He makes sure to circle your clit with his thumb, wanting to bring you more pleasure. You needed to finish with him. You needed to be distracted from the feeling of his cum painting your womb white.

And when he does, he lets out a low groan, your squeal music to his ears. he holds you tight until his balls are empty. And ever so slowly pulls out, careful to not alarm you. His goal was done, and hopefully, this’ll be enough to get you pregnant.

If not, he’ll come up with other plans.

“I love you…” one of his hands comes down to wipe away the sweat from your forehead. Your skin is sticky, eyes dazed. It’s a sight he’ll never forget.

You don’t answer, not at first.

“I… I love you too.”

A soft peck and he’s up to soak a towel in warm water. You’re too tired to check your lower half, eyes closing against your will. But it’s okay, it’s Diluc after all. Surely, he wouldn’t do anything… right?

As for Diluc… he’s already coming up with baby names.

 ===

 A/N:* - tmi but the very first time I got fingered, I bleed a bit lmao. I don’t know how it is for everyone else, so I just used my own experiences. Seriously though, acting like Diluc in this fic is fucked up. Please don’t do that.

[johaerys-writes]

What do you find most influences your characterization of Achilles when you’re writing? I love all your fics so much btw! 💖

Aah this is such a good question!!! Honestly a lot of the time when I write him I think about his Iliad characterisation, I think it's my favourite. He is so abrasive and self-centered and it makes so much sense within the context of the story and his situation that you can't even be mad about it. I love how intensely he feels all his emotions, Achilles doesn’t do anything by halves: he loves to the max, hates to the max, grieves to the max. There is something so powerful about the fact that his love and his grief go hand in hand with such monumental destruction, like he’s so SCARY in how torrential his passions are but also so very human, and that is always an interesting thought experiment trying to apply those characteristics in different universes or stories. I love that throughout the Iliad we get glimpses of not only how deadly he is, but also a sweet, caring, honourable man that genuinely cares about his fellow humans in his own way, and also about justice and fairness, and it's so painful how that is turned against him in the end. He's just such a complex character with so many layers, and with every fic I write about him I want to peel back those layers and see what I can do with them lol. He contains multitudes and I honestly think he's one of the greatest characters ever conceived in one of the most compelling stories ever written and that inspires me the hell out of me lmao.

Also the fact that he's a demigod, and that he is intentionally written differently from other characters in the Iliad (in the way he speaks and acts and moves, the way he expresses his emotions, in his powers, his connection to Thetis and the sea), like he’s a weirdo by default but also extremely relatable and I find that so endearing. Achilles' weirdness is something that features quite a lot in my works.

I am also inspired by his TSOA and Hades characterisations, as well as his appearances in other ancient greek works (I think I would be lying if I said that TSOA isn't in the dna of most of my patrochilles stories LOL but I usually inject other bits and pieces from other works into his characterisation depending on the fic). I love seeing how other creators were inspired by Achilles and what they decided to do with him, which aspect of his character they chose to focus on, it's always so interesting. It's a good thing that he appears in quite a lot of stuff, both modern and older works, both in writing and in art, so we're a bit spoiled for choice.

Edit: also the fact that the myth of him hiding in Skyros dressed as a woman is so old and embedded into his general myth, and that he was feminine-looking and graceful enough to pass makes me feral....!!!!! ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL!!!! And ALSO that even in the Iliad his role in Patroclus' funeral mirrors that of Andromache in Hector's funeral, like he doesn’t care about gender norms Patroclus is his HUSBAND and Achilles taking on the role of the wife is just!!! Genderfluid Achilles until the day that I die 🥹✊️

Okay I'll shut up now haha I hope I answered your question!! I'm glad you're enjoying my works 💕

[crescentfool]

recently, i’ve been thinking about what a 100% social link/confidant run is like from the perspective of the persona protagonists, rather than the player. i’ve always been a sucker for thinking about the type of narrative created by a person’s gameplay choices (it can be so fun and deep) so!! i wrote this analysis / musing.

some notes before we start: this was written with the lens of persona 3 being the most recent game i played- but the concepts are applicable to the p4/p5 protagonists as well! no spoilers for any of the games are mentioned; this is moreso a general discussion of ludonarrative dissonance with the game mechanics and narrative and how it makes for fun angst (ft. personal interpretation).

(more under the cut!)

the framework: game mechanics

in all of the games, the social link system’s existence coincides with the social stats mechanic. certain social links require a specific set of stats in order to initiate it, or surpass a certain rank. each game has around 20 of these- each of which represent the major arcana (+ some bonuses, e.g. aeon / jester / faith / councilor).

for any players going for a 100% social link run, this basically requires each social stat to be maxed out. anyone who’s followed a guide for a 100% run would know that the beginning of the game tends to be very “strict” with how time can be used, most of which involves getting the stats raised  as soon as possible.

outside of characterization and worldbuilding, completing social links are incentivized for a variety of gameplay reasons. so how could this completionist play style affect the protagonists?

prioritizing social stats over everything else: a general view

regardless of which protagonist you want to put under a petri dish, with a 100% run, you’re essentially asking the protagonist to form amicable bonds with 20 or so people, give or take. granted, not everyone becomes adjoined to the hip to the protagonist.

personally, i feel that forming 20 different bonds over the course of a year would be rather strenuous. during these 100% runs, the protagonists may feel that they’re spreading themselves thin trying to dedicate their resources to multiple different people as well as raising their “social stats.” i find the implications that this has on said bonds is so, utterly fascinating.

while this isn’t reflected in the game and would be better represented within a fic, i find it difficult to believe that this type of behavior doesn’t have any ramifications on the quality of the protagonist’s closer relationships (or their self-image, for that matter).

just… imagine calling one of your close friends but then they consistently give responses along the lines of “lmao sorry i’m busy doing other things,” and they rarely make the time of day for you. how would you feel? gameplay-wise, this deterioration of the relationship is best represented in persona 3 with social links reversing if you haven’t spent time with them in awhile.

part of my fascination with this concept is influenced by my own experiences. trying to maintain so many relationships can be difficult to keep up with and it quickly gets overwhelming (see dunbar’s number for more information). jumping between so many people also makes it difficult to focus on a few relationships meaningfully- meaning that relationships may be limited to being simple pleasantries. even then, ‘successfully’ keeping every relationship satisfying comes at the cost of being unable to pursue your own development and interests.

overall, i think that trying to do so many things ends up lowering the quality of the relationship(s) involved, especially when you also consider the fatigue from going to school as well as fighting shadows.

playing the therapist friend / listening role: a general view

another aspect of the 100% run that i think about is how the protagonists rarely open up to other people. a good chunk of SLs follow a storyline of the protagonist acting as a therapist friend/helping the other person through one central issue. some SLs are an exception to this and have a more casual “we’re just hanging out vibe.”

basically, SLs tend to be weighted toward the other character’s growth, moreso than the protagonist’s (which is handled by the main story). that said, the idea of mostly playing a listening role across most of your relationships and not having many that you feel comfortable to speak freely about your own stuff… feels really unbalanced and unhealthy?

i do think that part of the lack of “input” can be attributed to the silent-protagonist approach taken in the games (which is a whole ‘nother topic). but!! i find that each protagonist’s options, while limited, are fun to think about! some of the traits and interpretations i’ve seen for the differing protags, to name a few, include:

being afraid to open up / get attached and keeping people at arm’s distance as a result

needing to be around other people, even if it’s just listening them, to distract from their own struggles / pretend nothing’s wrong with them

enjoying helping others, being a good and careful listener who can provide an appropriate and helpful response

the willingness to prioritize others over themselves; a lack of self-preservation

compulsive people pleasing

at its worst, the lack of “protagonist talking” or equal reciprocation in response could be misinterpreted by the other person as disinterest (like they’re talking to a wall). alternatively- the lack of “personal tidbits” could be taken as, “you don’t trust me enough to be able to open up, huh.” and i just think that seeing this in a fic would be the biggest shitshow ever (and i would read that).

concluding thoughts:

overall, i feel that the protagonists taking a predominantly listening approach to several relationships at once can lead to compassion fatigue and general burnout. the protagonists are rarely at the receiving end of being listened to and/or having their issues worked through… and that’s kind of sad?

while the 100% social link run can provide great power to any persona fusions (and other cool battle abilities + hijinks)... i ultimately think that there’d be a lot of mental strain that would make achieving this much more difficult when you take a narrative-emphasized approach.

i do realize that it is possible to see the general vibe of this post as “100% social link is bad,” but like… there’s something i find really appealing about the messiness of attempting to manage so many relations at once- only to fall short in several of them and attempting to salvage the last bits of their sanity. when you think about the complications of the 100% SL run from the shoes of the protagonist… yeah!! that’s the good shit!

anyways! if anyone knows of any fics with this kinda vibe for the p3/4/5 protags… feel free to drop it in my askbox… i like them all VERY much :3c… and if this raised any food for thought- i’d be equally honored! let the protags go through shit i wanna see their emotions and coping mechanisms damn it! 👏

[bylertruther]

the 'he freezes and freaks out all the time' is such a terrible take lmao. we've seen the teenager gang shitting their pants in this very same season and they are older. will was 12-13 years old at best when a giant demogorgon kidnapped him and a giant spider smoke monster entered his body. but he always showed his bravery in both of those scenes. he did everything right and grabbed a gun, but ended up being unlucky against the demogorgon. he stood up against a literal giant spider monster and screamed at his face. but he was unlucky again. that doesn't make him unbrave

also, are we forgetting that he survived the UD and figured out how it works just by himself? he figured out how to communicate to joyce, he figured out how to use the lights, he figured out how to cheat the demogorgon for days etc. that is how the teenagers in S4 knew how to use the lights. because Will did figure out first.

damn, that's crazy, because will himself literally describes it as being frozen, and the creators as well as noah describe will as generally being someone that is, and i quote, "scared of everything."

but scared doesn't make him "unbrave," as you say. bravery is all about being scared, but doing the scary thing anyway. in fact, i've often said that's the entire thesis of will's character. that specific brand of bravery can be applied to pretty much every facet of his personality and story, which is precisely what makes him such a striking character that's so easy to love. will is scared of many things and that's okay.

you're getting defensive for no reason. everyone feels fear. will's fear and his reactions to it are literally what have saved his life. running, hiding, and trying his best to communicate with his mom are prime examples. it's when he doesn't listen to his instincts and takes someone else's advice that he fails—much like eddie, in season four.

will being scared and having a freeze response due to his ptsd is not a character flaw nor a negative trait. he is often scared. he often needs help. he doesn't volunteer to go first or stand in front. he hides, and he runs, and he clings to others, and that's okay. that doesn't make him any less brave or any less capable. that doesn't erase everything that he's accomplished. he fights back and he has use within the group—it just looks different. would you say that characters like max and dustin are useless? no, you wouldn't. but people say that about will. why?

they've all encountered unimaginable horrors, especially will, whose experiences have given him a disorder and an all-consuming direct and seemingly inalienable connection with the source of those horrors. on top of all that, he's also still just a kid that already had it a little rough before all of this. his response and the way that they've handled it makes sense.

i don't understand why saying this, which is to say just pointing at the show and the things the creators of the show have said themselves, is so controversial. i don't understand where the idea of scared being synonymous with cowardly came from. i don't understand how a character freezing, just like other characters have freezed before, is such a bad thing. i don't understand how people can look at will and think that he's so one dimensional, as if one trait or uncontrollable habit cancels out everything else that makes him him.

as if needing help makes you useless and weak. as if being scared means you're dragging the group down. as if everyone needs to fight back in the same acceptable way to be considered worthy and equal.

like, respectfully, shut up lol. every single time this conversation comes up, people always put words in my mouth that i didn't ever say. your assumptions and pitiful view of other human beings in moments of distress is not my problem. and if you somehow still have a problem with will being the way that he is, take it up with the people that write him and act out his story for us to see! i'm going based off of what they've written and presented in their show, as well as the words they've spoken in interviews. believe it or not, i don't pull things out of my ass, because i actually like this show and the characters as they are.

editing to add: will's freeze response comes after the events of season one as part of his ptsd. the entire plot of season two is that will is no longer the same after what he's experienced. there's a moment in 2x03 in mr. clarke's class, where they're discussing phineas gage and it's a direct reference to will. the scene starts with him exiting bob's car and walking into the school, feeling uneasy about everyone looking at him oddly. it then transitions to the classroom, where we focus on him and how max is also studying him.

The case of Phineas Gage is one of the great medical curiosities of all time. Phineas was a railroad worker in 1848 who had a nightmarish accident. A large iron rod was driven completely through his head.

Phineas miraculously survived. He seemed fine. And physically, yes, he was. But his injury resulted in a complete change to his personality. So much so that friends that knew him started referring to him as "No longer Gage."

will's arc has always centered around childhood, innocence, and nostalgia, because he desperately wants to go back, but cannot. this is reflected in his narrative as well as his wardrobe choices, with all parties involved repeating the same thing. him destroying castle byers is a pivotal moment, because it's then that he finally starts to accept this and begin his coming of age. this theme is much of what this character represents. he's different now, no longer the same kid, and that's the entire point. he's "zombie boy", "no longer [will]."

additionally, forced impregnation and possession are violations of his body. it doesn't matter that an extra-dimensional creature or eldritch horror did it instead of a human being (and even then, they did it at the command of a human being). will said "no" and those creatures did it anyway. it's textual and it is what it is. freezing is a common trauma response, and especially a common response to that particular brand of trauma. so, like. what the fuck do you want me to tell you at this point?

[skinks]

Oh my god. You are a saviour!!!!!!!! Idk but after some what, 6 hours, im not the same person anymore?? The English. The English. Its so packed. Cant stop crying after the last ep i there is a hole inside my chest now it hurts so much idk what to tell more like yeah amazon produced silly western with white girl saviour moment haha how about feeling the well of every humanly possible emotions after some .... several hours? I... didnt expected that. Cornelia...

Cant say thank you enough for your ramblings in the tags!!!!!!!!! You are not a frequent media enjoyer so to hear from you in the tags was such a suprise that ive downloaded it like after i just came home from work and was so dumbfolded by the narrative ? one ep for one day so i... wasnt aware of... you know... last three eps direction (but it was always there, always!!!). the fucking Event of my life thank you so much for mentioning it!!!!!!!!!!!!! Idk im just speechless....

ANON!!!! I GET IT BRO I GET IT….. event of OUR lives

You’re right, it’s so incredibly packed it’s… idk where to begin replying to you but I agree, the plotting is so well-done and teased out with just enough detail that by the time you reach the last episode’s reveals you have to recontextualise every interaction you’ve seen so far.

It’s really a testament to the power of writing that doesn’t just blandly dump exposition out for an audience it doesn’t trust - the reason I keep going bonkers bananas about the dialogue is because, yes, it’s heightened, but it’s REAL. Real characters with painful motivations WOULD keep secrets and talk in arcs around the subjects they don’t want to really talk about. Then it’s those arcs that keep Eli and Cornelia intersecting and sharing and coming to the realisation that somehow, in the enormity of the endless prairie they’ve found one other person who understands them…. I can’t think about it too much I keep crying lmao I sympathise with the hole in your chest, like I have been GUTSHOT

Once again it’s the tragedy. The layers of parallels to figure out on a rewatch. I think this type of reaction in me to certain media only comes along every so often because it’s only the most weighty, tragic implications of narrative and characters with doomed love that get me this good. Brokeback Mountain, Baze & Chirrut from Rogue One, obviously Reddie post-itch2 and now this. It’s come along right at the sweet spot for me when I’ve really been craving Western stories and feeling the lack of emotionally-moving cinema this year. I’ve had a lot of disappointments in the theatre ngl, a lot of duds. So it was such a fucking horrible delightful treat to basically get a sweeping 6 hour western roadtrip movie where every decision has been carefully, deliberately made - from the acting to the costumes, production design, direction, music, everything - to tell THIS story. Their story. Revisionist and triumphant and tragic and romantic and violent all at once.

Maybe it’s an indictment of how few pieces of truly well-written visual storytelling I’m exposed to but it’s been such a breath of fresh air. Characters with very different stories and goals and arcs that still manage to see something of the same driving force (magic!!!) in each other? Themes of reclaiming that which was stolen from you, both literal and metaphysically? Identity, agency, land, history, family, a HOME??! My friend @benevolentbridgetroll likened it to Mad Max Fury Road in that sense, both works are using the grand visuals of wide open spaces to tell a story about momentum and desperate human connection and Never Being Able To Go Home Again but also that sometimes you have to try, because there are people along the way who need your help.

And on top of that it’s using only the SEXIEST of “golden hour sunsets shining through the clouds of Nebraska dust kicked up by our leading man silhouetted rearing on a stallion” visuals to tell the story like HELLOOOOOOO? I love imagery. The horror of the time is all the more real for being given the weight it deserves; saturated, slow-motion, the hyper-real intensity of traumatic memory without ever being grimdark or exploitative for grimdark’s sake.

Plus Chaske Spencer deserves an emmy or a bafta or SOME kind of award I’m dead serious. Not since Heath Ledger played Ennis del Mar in 2005 has a man imbued such rich inner heartbreak to tight little smiles and devastating, carefully chosen words and the meaning that comes from what you choose to Look at when you know certain Looking will get you killed.

Because that’s another thing I agree with you about - when I started the series my main worry was that it was going to result in another white saviour story, and with the caveat that obviously I’m both white and non-American, I think the show avoided that. Not only are both Cornelia and Eli’s arcs given equal importance to the entire theme of the story, but it literally couldn’t exist if it wasn’t specifically ABOUT how the experiences of women and Native peoples in the wild west differ from the typical White Cowboy Conquering New Unexplored Land narrative. Eli is given all the agency in the world to make a series of decisions FOR HIMSELF and what it means for him to be a Pawnee man in this place at this time. That’s literally what his arc is about, and it’s compelling! Also the series was made with a ton of consultation and approval from members of the Pawnee nation so overall I do think they were trying to tell as authentic a story as possible.

Anyway. I’m so so glad you watched it after my incoherent yelling in the tags, that makes me so happy! I would love for more people to enjoy it even just so I can read more fic or look at more gifs 😭 I have so much homework this week I can’t spend it all on photoshop. Also have to say that you calling me “not a frequent media enjoyer” REALLY tickled me and I’ve been laughing about it for two days now, I feel like all I do is enjoy media. It just takes some particularly good shit for me to get super-annoying about it on tumblr so for that I’m eternally grateful. 2022 media has been so bland for me besides The Locked Tomb series that I was beginning to think I’d lost the ability to feel shrimp emotions at movies any more, but here we are. I’m shrimping so so hard and I love it. Thank you for your message!!!

[kittyphoenix12-xx]

Byergrove Dear Evan Hansen AU

- Jonathan = Evan, Billy = Connor

- Nancy would be a mix of Alana/Zoe, i.e., ‘love interest’ (but also not because it’s byergrove lmao),,,,

- The Wheelers and Hargrove-Mayfields are related. Neil and Karen are brother/sister (this is for the Jonathan/billy confrontation cuz I will not make Jonathan have a crush on Max)

- Max would be Zoe but without the love interest angle. She’s still Billy’s stepsister.

- Steve is Jared and Eddie is Miguel

- This can lead to onesided Jonathan/Steve, past mungrove and future steddie because y not

- Any who

- Jonathan is struggling. His mum, Joyce, had a breakdown last year after his little brother Will was kidnapped/taken by his piece of shit of a dad. His mum, trying to get better, puts them all in therapy (individual)

- His arm is in a cast from trying to kill himself falling out of a tree.

- Dear Jonathan Byers, // This year will be better. I promise. You’re brother is safe, Steve is coming back from Europe and will hang out with you again, and maybe you’ll finally talk to Nancy Wheeler. // Sincerely, Me.

- Note: this is written on the backs of photos Jonathan takes. Instead of just writing letters to himself, his therapist told him to take photos of things that make him happy. (these include some kinda creepy photos of Nancy *important*)

- Steve meets him at school and makes that joke he makes every day. (At least Jonathan hopes it’s a joke, because if his only friend is hanging out with him so his parents will pay for his car then… then… he’ll what? Try to kill himself? Loser)

- Billy is angry. his dad had been real rough last night, left an obvious bruise and made it so he couldn’t do his homework. His teacher had just accused him of being a no-good-high-school-dropout and he was storming out down the corridor, breathing heavily, seeing red and all that shit.

- He slams into Jonathan and before he can say anything, Steve is getting up in his face, calling him an asshole and what not.

- “Steve, it was an accident!” “Yeah, Harrington, didn’t mean to push your boyfriend.” “HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!”

- Note: Steve has internalised homophobia and is, in fact, having a gay panic after he came back from Europe.

- Jonathan flinches at the tone. He knows Steve doesn’t mean it like that, really he does, but he can remember when he was thirteen, admitting in hushed tones that maybe he wanted to kiss a boy. He remembers Steve harsh swallowing and the slamming of a door and the hissed queer that followed. Steve had come back the next day, he always did, but he didn’t apologise, and Jonathan didn’t forget.

- Billy walks off and Nancy Wheeler helps Jonathan off the ground. “Sorry about him,” she says, “He’s having a temper tantrum.” Jonthan feels himself turn red as he takes her hand. He almost forgets to let go.

- He lets go.

- In the computer room, he’s printing off his letter when Billy walks in. They stare at each other awkwardly. “You broke your arm?” “Yeah…” “Can I sign the cast?” “…Sure…”

- Billy sees the pictures Jonathan has taken and Jonathan sees his eyes widen and cant even explain himself before Billy is pinning him to wall, holding them to his face.

- “What the fuck is this?” “I – uh…” “You fucking creep. Why are you taking photos of my cousin?” “Wait!”

- Billy leaves without a backwards glance. The photos lay at Jonathan’s feet, but he realises Billy took the letter with him…

- Sometime later etc etc

- Jonathan goes out for a walk. His mum was in an anxious state, flitting around Will like a nervous butterfly. Jonathan felt suffocated and it wasn’t even him. He needed to get out.

- He goes to the nearby park. He knows Eddie Munson hangs around there at this time, but he cant see the dealer around. But he does see Billy Hargrove’s blue Camaro.

- The car lights are on, but he can’t see anything. Feeling oddly brave, Jonathan goes to check the windows only to find Billy unconscious inside…

- His letter is on the passenger seat.

To be continued because I’m tried rn

[repo-net]

Why is Itto so high on your tierlist? Not hating on you just curious.

Itto, huh? A little funny to me that this ask is so similar to the last one I got when I was asked about Noelle, lmao. I guess geo claymore users bring that vibe wherever they go.

Anyways, I'll try to make this as brief as I can. Itto - the one and oni! One of my favorite nicknames in the game by the way, that one is actually really cool. Itto is a loveable bag of zero brain cells that I just get entertained by the moment I see him. I think the star of the show at the end of the day though has got to be the voice acting, especially in English. Max Mittelman is absolutely perfect in his role and brings the character to a life that only he could give. It's a phenomenal performance.

Let's get into his character himself some more. Itto is an oni who's honestly kind of a doofus, he's famous (and infamous) around the kids because of the way he acts and hangs around them, and is generally known to be a no-good troublemaker. He might be the leader of the gang, but Shinobu is clearly the more reasonable and calculated one between the two. It's a good balance. It reminds me a little of Masaru and Nagisa's leader dynamic from DR: AE, which I've written for a few times if you've gone through my blog before.

Back to Itto. He's generally a chaotic good kind of person, and while he's pretty reckless, he means well most of the time and doesn't cause any major problems beyond like, an annoying inconvenience at most. That said, I can tell you this, that man has zero fear in him. That man stood up to Yelan dead in the eye and promised her that he'd beat her ass if the two came to throw hands. Which, by the way, he is generally a dumbass, but if we're talking pure strength, Itto would not fuck around. I'm not saying he'd take Yelan, but he could clean a good number of people in the cast with his power.

Onis are not fucking playthings, dude. In his story quest, Itto literally smashed a gigantic boulder to bits with a single punch. He wasn't using any weapon there, just so you know. Literal fists.

I really think what drives Itto home though is that he's entertaining. From a writer's perspective, the best kind of quality any character could have is catching the audience's heart. Being well-written won't mean much if you don't make the audience be captivated when you're on-screen. Gain their love first, and then make them appreciate every single detail of your story. It's already a shaky start if someone has to make the effort to read the complete biography of your character from start to finish just to like them.

Itto's cool, badass, and just easy to love. Definitely see why people would find him annoying, but I could never hate such a goofy man. He's genuine, honest, and doesn't back down from a fight. His gameplay is exactly my kind of gig too; unga bunga clean house with pure goddamn power. I've considered pulling on his banner so, so many times despite the fact that I don't need him just because his gameplay is that fun.

My only real criticism of the dude is his model, I guess. Can't stand seeing such a muscled dude have some goofy ahhhh arms. Hate it.

[pedrito-friskito]

✨kay’s ultimate pedro ranking✨

ok ok ok ok @mandosmistress did this a while back (like a few days lmao what is time) and tagged me and I HAVE BEEN T H I N K I N G let me tell you.

so without further ado, under the cut is my (not so definitive) pedro pascal character ranking…..! (based mainly on attraction/how much I enjoy writing them)

FRANKIE MORALES. frankie. frankie frankie frankie. my man. sunshine of my life (haha see what I did there). there is just something about this character that really crawled into my chest, wrapped himself around my heart and said ”hi I live here now” and I’m cool with it. handsome in that rugged way, a little bit damaged, and good with his hands? done. hook, line, and sinker.

DIN DJARIN. oh the sweet soft-spoken tin can space man. in all honesty, him and Frankie fight for the top spot on a daily basis and sometimes the beskar-covered bounty hunter wins, and he truly was my pedro gateway drug so he’s gotta be high on my list.

JAVIER PEÑA. ohhhhhh mama I love me some Javi. (do I mainly blame my gargantuan crush on @the-ginger-hedge-witch and her brilliant Crush series YES AS A MATTER OF FACT I DO) something about those tight fuckin’ jeans and the stache and the aviators like yep honey take me I’m yours

JAVIER GUTIERREZ. sunshine baby angel too good for this world I just wanna give him a little kiss and carry him around in my pocket and make sure no harm every comes to him (no I haven’t written anything for him yet but I been thinkin’ thots okay)

DIETER BRAVO. ✨the trash man✨ another one I just wanna carry around in my pocket, also the hair does things for me (same with Javi G) like just let me run my fingers through it and I’ll die a happy gal. questionable life choices maybe, but we’ve all been there, right?

OBERYN MARTELL. oh my HEART. *cue adele* we could have had it AAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL. I would say spoilers but it was legitimately 8 years ago but he was so CLOSE and then so SQUISHED. tbh oberyn is the most intimidating to me to even think of writing but maybe someday….

MARCUS PIKE. I do really like Marcus. cheesy as hell? check. bit overboard sometimes? double check. BUT I really like the history of the character we got in limited scenes AND I have a fic idea for him I’ve been sitting on FOREVER and I def have to use it soon!

PERO TOVAR. okay I love me a grungy fantasy man okay like that’s my bread and butter. add in the grouchiness and the obvious way to his heart through his stomach? it’s go time, baby, I got plans for him too!

JACK DANIELS. oh darlin’, he hits the middle of my list for the sole reason that pedro and that whip awoken something in me that hasn’t shut up since I watched that movie and if you don’t think I’ve watched that clip where he pushes his jacket back and it’s a crystal-clear shot of his ass you are WRONG

EZRA PROSPECT. fits the grungy, violent thing pedro seems to work with half the time, and honestly, the linguistics of this man make my head spin (the main reason I haven’t written much for him because it’s a looooot of effort to try and think up dialogue for him!!!) BUT I do love that little moon-touched spot and the scar and the smile and just ugh yum

THE THIEF. full disclosure: I haven’t read a lot of fics about the thief (if anyone has recs let me at ‘em) buuuuuut I really like the whole vibe he has and the outfit? spectacular.

MARCUS MORENO. the glasses definitely do it for me but idk something about him I just…meh. have definitely read some fab fics about daddy moreno (maybe I’ll revisit him at some point). still hot, still delicious, just not my number one fav.

MAX PHILLIPS. maybe not the biggest asshole pedro’s played but definitely up there? I sat through the movie just for him, honestly the scene of him on the couch made it worth it and the smarminess is something else, but idk if I could ever write him! (kudos to all that do!)

DAVE YORK. ok ok ok ok OKAYYYYYYY. listen. he’s the baddie (and like a really bad baddie) so I gotta put him low on my list as far as attraction goes (plus I have mixed emotions about P without facial hair but I digress…) BUT I do have ideas. they are on the horizon. keep your eyes OPEN.

MAX LORD. I haven’t even watched wonder woman 1984 and I know he needs to be down here. maybe I’ll get some form of intoxicated this weekend and power through it, just for shits and giggles!

well KUDOS if you made it this far, this was actually so fun to do!

tagging a few pals just because, no pressure 😇

@prolix-yuy @pedropascalsx @mandoblowmybackout @mindidjarin @allfoolsinluv @iamskyereads and obvi anyone else who wants to play!!!

[kayleen756894]

Hello! I hope you’re having a good day so far, I was just wondering how you came to discover amberpricefield and how did your love for this ship spark? Was there any particular moment or event that set it off or was it a more gradual thing?

Oh boy strap in Anon cause I’m about to give you my Life is Strange backstory lmao buckle up kids!

So I played LiS back when it first came out and I was OBSESSED with Pricefield. I loved everything about Max and Chloe’s dynamic. The emotion, drama, loyalty, gay, everything, love them, still do, always will. And while I loved Pricefield, I hated Rachel Amber. All of you peeking at my Rachel icon, all my lovingly written Rachel fics, how I simp for her on the reg:

But I’m serious. I hated her. Venomously. Couldn’t stand even hearing her name. Every time Chloe mentioned her I was yelling at my TV for her to shut up cause Max was right there. I spent a good like year and a half hating Rachel Amber with every fibre of my being. And then—mark your calendars—early in April of 2017 I discovered the fan made visual novel Love is Strange (if you’ve never played it you gotta it’s glorious, gay, soft, 10/10). And because it’s so well made and I love this universe I knew I had to do every route, even though I fucking hated Rachel and wanted nothing to do with her. So after doing everyone else’s I begrudgingly gave her route a try. And Anon My third eye opened. My dead heart revitalized. I’m not sure exactly what moment it was, maybe it was gradual, probably, it’s a blur of feelings and me losing my mind, but I was completely seduced. SHE’S HELLA CHARMING I HAD NO CHANCE. By the end of Rachel’s route not only did my opinion of her entirely 180, but I was head over heels in love with her. And this made me replay LiS with a fresh perspective. I payed more attention. I respected Chloe’s feelings. Let my empathy guide me forward. I tried looking at these events from Rachel’s point of view rather than just blaming her for everything and pointing fingers. Everything that made me feel burning hatred before just made me sad now, made me yearn, made me wish Max could meet Rachel, that Rachel could’ve been given the chance to explain herself, apologize, to become a better person. (Thankfully fanfic writers exist to give her that chance, including myself). So at this point I loved Pricefield, loved Amberfield, and because of the connection between the three characters and what Max would have to go through to save both of them in a perfect timeline, I grew attached to Amberpricefield, I wanted to see them happy and soft and in love, and this sudden spark inspired me to write my first Life is Strange fic which was “Every Step of the Way.” I wasn’t quite sold on Amberprice though, despite this. Mostly because at that point we’d never seen Chloe and Rachel interact. All we knew were some not quite so great things, and with only those things to go on I didn’t think they could last without Max involved to mellow them. And since Life is Strange gave me Pricefield and Love is Strange gave me Amberfield that’s where my passions were strongest. Then the trailer for Before the Storm came out. And the rest is history really lmao I fucking fell in love with Amberprice (anyone who’s seen my reaction to the Amberprice kiss knows how true this is lmfao) and in turn my love for Amberpricefield increased to unbeatable, insatiable levels. And the fandom was so huge at this time that I kinda unknowingly and unintentionally dragged a bunch of people along with me 😂 (to those still here, I love you). And deadass through falling for Amberpricefield and writing about them I realized I was polyamorous myself and god how FREEING it was to realize this I’m telling you. Life-changing. I owe them everything. I owe this series and fandom everything. Life is Strange has taken me on such a journey, how such a burning hatred became such a tender love, and without that journey none of my fics would’ve been written, I wouldn’t have met / bonded with many of the friends I have now, and wouldn’t be who I am today. Thanks for asking anon! Sorry for the rant but I hope it was entertaining lol I love getting questions so feel free to ask me anything anytime! 💕

[thesimperiuscurse]

08.04

It’s The Kingston Legacy’s sixth anniversary, so here’s a throwback post to celebrate! Last month I forced myself to reread the entire legacy, and while I stopped, clicked off the tab, and emitted a soundless scream of pure cringe numerous times (I wish I was kidding)—the past generations are actually not as terrible as I remember. I think enough time has passed for me to detach myself from the childish storytelling and look back in nostalgia. 

Thank you to my fellow Wordpress writers who have come along the journey, some for many years now, through every high and low. It’s astounding how much has changed in the legacy from when I was 15, and 21. Follow me down the (very) long memory lane, as I reminiscence about each story and my perspective on them now ❤

Generation 1 — Fern (2015)

To my shock, I found myself genuinely enjoying Fern’s story. I think this was because the first generation was purely me commentating on gameplay, and not trying to write a story (that’s when the cringe began). I was inspired by one of the original stories, Alice and Kev, to make a homeless sim and document her struggle for a better life: Fern, a snobby aspiring writer. Reading this, a huge wave of nostalgia hit me, and it reminded me of how wonderful Sims 3 gameplay is. Although I’m long past it now, there’s real heart and life in the design. I think it speaks about the rich personalities and quirks that I could write a whole life story off it. It was super fun making Fern camp out at Old Pier Beach, stealing from townie picnics and roasting apples on the fire, finding little ways to scrounge money, giving her a makeover in the salon, watching the townie dramas unfold around her. Although she faced homelessness two times and a shitty first husband (yeah, fuck off, Xander), Fern grew into a strong and independent yet sweet and gentle character, in love with the ocean like her great-granddaughter comes to be.  

I never actually addressed this, but she (and her love Christopher) passed away in the story between the end of Gen 3 and start of Gen 4. It just felt weird to make it a big deal because they never died in game—still ‘alive’ and well, scattered across different backup saves and the bin.  

Generation 2 — Briar (2015)

Briar’s story was strange, because it was half gameplay and half story, which meant that there were things that just did not... make... sense. She was quite an ‘unreliable’ character to follow because of her Insane trait. The plot revolved around her as a fresh detective, investigating supernatural phenomena in Sunset Valley. Her character arc was almost the opposite to her mother’s: a naive, optimistic, silly girl hardening through trauma into a cold and ruthless police chief. Ash’s death was the one moment I felt true sadness in this legacy, because he did really die. Imagine me actually getting emotional over my characters, lmao. Wild. 

Also, Max is OP. To this day he is one of the best male characters in my legacy, a healthy and supportive best friend (to husband) in stark contrast to the following generation. 

Fallen Angels — Cherry (2016-2019)

Yes. It’s this generation. Square the fuck up, Cherry. I will fight her any day. Old readers will know of my pure hatred for this story. It’s been about two years since it thankfully ended. My verdict now?

It’s not quite as horrifically shitty, Gabriel and Lilith being a lot nicer than I remembered (Gabriel’s only a bit of a dick at the start), but it still has glaring problems, such as the pacing and clumsy handling of sensitive topics. The story would have been far nicer if it focused less on Cherry and Luc’s relationship and their respective issues, more on the found family and her relationship with Gabriel (which was rushed due to me despising the story by that point). During the first chapters, I was cringing spectacularly at the combination of Luc’s initial jackass behaviour and Cherry’s whining. Toxic as FUCK. I had to skip 3.8 and 3.9 entirely. These two (because of my own shameful mistake) tainted the generation in my eyes, and even though all of the characters grew from their toxicity, I can’t really see past that guilt to the better parts of the story. 

Jade has been telling me for years that this story isn’t all bad, and upon forcing myself to reread, I can see what you mean. I’m sorry LOL. Something that pleasantly surprised me was the writing quality (just the prose, not the actual story mechanics... lmfao), and Raphael, who made me smile every time he appeared. Every single careless, sarcastic line of his was a banger. The pictures are something else I like, too. Many of them stand up to the best ones in En Pointe—the fiery, gritty, industrial tones of Bridgeport just hits different. The world was rich and immersive, which is missing at the moment in En Pointe because of me being too lazy to build a proper Los Angeles world, but Act III is set in Boroughsburg so I’m excited to get back into the city scenes. 17 year old me wasn’t mature enough to tackle dark themes, but at least the visuals for them were nice, I guess. The atmosphere of the story I really enjoy. It’s just the toxic characters and way-too-angsty moments that ruin the whole thing for me. 

En Pointe — Evangeline (2019-)

And here we are now! The early chapters are kinda painful to read because 1) Mako looked so ugly and 2) the dialogue was so clumsy and generic. I sighed in relief when Chapter 5 came around, because it was then both of those aspects really began to improve. Eva’s voice was simple, with her punchy remarks, much less romantic and descriptive than Cherry, so it was interesting to see her voice becoming more complex and layered as I more understood her character. Also, me visibly struggling with the natural lighting and only getting a handle on it 7 chapters later has me shaking my head. 

I’m already beginning to identify issues with the story, mostly with character arcs and pacing. It’s a strange combination of fast pacing (spanning half a year in 8 chapters) and Eva becoming surprisingly comfortable with Mako’s touch due to their unusual pas de deux circumstances. It’s curious how real life time actually played into the pacing of the story—because of the slow publishing schedule, less time has passed in the story as real life, so it’s almost as if the time jumps were made up by real life time, making the jumps feel not too strange. Reading consecutively, however, Evako’s relationship growth doesn’t feel slow burn... a little underdeveloped, in a way, despite their lengthy conversations. I think that’s because of Mako being such a reserved and mysterious character, and that I’ve unconsciously come to rely on Tumblr to give more depth to the characters/relationships. Luckily, pretty much everyone who comments on the story also follows me here, so this dual-platform storytelling is okay, I suppose. I want to post more of #Mishako since there just isn’t enough time to explore their bromance in the story!

At the moment I’m not happy with the story, but it’s fine. I’m learning. There’s more than half the story to go, which means plenty of time to reflect upon the issues and improve. I’m really looking forward to Eva and Mako’s character arcs in Act III. At the moment their relationship is based on their natural chemistry and respect for each other, and since they are yet to face trials their bond isn’t super deep, but Evako are still my favourite couple in the legacy thus far, and feel much more real than any character I’ve written before. It’s been very interesting for my aro ass (and being way more logical than emotional) to figure out a dynamic that is actually compelling to me, because most of the time when I look at romance I’m just like 😐🤨 I’m liking it so far but we shall see how everything unfolds, because I have barely any idea what’s going to happen beyond Act II, lmfao. 

That’s it for my incredibly long throwback! I hope it was at least nice for the OG readers, and interesting for anyone else who managed to battle through this essay, haha. This family has been an integral part of me growing up, as a person and writer and artist (what I’ve developed in visuals I apply to architecture), learning a great deal of awareness about real life through story research, which is pretty cool now that I think about it. I’m aiming to finish En Pointe by the end of 2022. I’m excited for what unexpected changes are to come!

[bubmyg]

there was no particular reason i wrote all this down other than reading the translations to my universe made me cry last week because i’m just Like this. this is a mini compilation of yoongi lyrics that i hold gently in my palm and close to my heart in a he’s my artist for life kind of way. these aren’t all my favorite yoongi lyrics, i certainly have more but not ones that fit this general vibe. 

this is like extremely disorganized, i kind of just wrote it like a journal (and i’ll probably copy it to my bullet journal at some point actually). interpretations are my own, music is cool in that we can all read and hear the same thing and get different things out of it (which is why yoongi has often said he doesn’t attach specific meaning to things, giving it up to the listener instead)

so yeah. here’s me being fond of yoongi in 4k for no reason other than. idk. i wanted to. all translations are from doyoubangtan and doolsetbangtan. 

song request - lee sora ft suga

“I’ll be with you, for your birth and your end; That you’d remember that I’m with you, wherever you are; I’ll be a comfort for your life at any time, and so; please, that you’d lean on me and take a rest, every once in awhile.”

to me, this perfectly encapsulates what creating music is for yoongi in a two-fold kind of way. not only does he want his music to be a source of comfort for those who listen to it (just as the art of music is for himself), he’s also consistent in his assurance that taking a rest is okay. not being okay is okay. simply existing for the time being is okay. it’s a gentle empathy that comes from the experienced heart of someone who’s not going to tell you that it is okay, but will tell you that it won’t always be like this. friendly little moon trying to get you to smile with him on sleepless nights.

so far away - agust d ft suran

dream, will eventually be in full bloom at the end of hardships

this was on my undergrad graduation cap. it’s one of my favorite lyrics of all time. if so far away is my heart song, this is my heart lyric. this is a common motif in yoongi’s lyrics; dormancy is only temporary, you will bloom at the end of the cold winter.

dream, hope it to be there with you at your creation and at the end of your life

creation to end is another common motif n his lyrics. in this specific context, i imagine it to most closely be analogous to holding dreams close to you your entire life. dreams are dreams no matter how they manifest, even if they’re simply something you long for until your “end”.

Hope it to be there with you at your creation and at the end of your life; It will be generous to you wherever you stand; It will eventually be in full bloom at the end of hardships; The beginnings will seem humble, so prosperous will the future be

the entirety of this song reads like a story and this last refrain reads like the conclusion (kind of). the slight wording change from the previous choruses means a lot in that regard, more definite and firm. you will be okay. maybe not now, maybe not next week. but you will be.

suga’s interlude - halsey ft suga

Though the dawn before sunrise is darkest; don’t forget the stars you longed for only rise in the darkness

just a really pretty but heart wrenching lyric in the context of the entire song. he’s also used this metaphor several times. i love me a good string of consistency with minor adaptations to fit the vibe. this song also made me cry the first time i read the translations lmao.

my universe - coldplay ft bts

Because the trial we face now is just for a moment anyway; All you have to do is to just keep shining bright like now; And we will follow you, embroidering this long night

this could mean so many things depending on how you wanted to contextualize it. of course the song is about love, so you could view it in that way. we’re in the midst of a global pandemic where we can’t see each other. or maybe it’s simply existence. continue to exist and one day your bright light will be followed even in the darkest of nights.

also the og title of telepathy being 잠시 (for a moment) is so...min yoongi you are so cool

people - agust d

Did someone say humans are the animals of wisdom?; The way I see it, humans are the animals of regret

Your ordinaries are my extraordinaries; Your extraordinaries are my ordinaries; Your ordinaries are my extraordinaries; Your extraordinaries are my ordinaries

super simple to understand which i think makes it more poignant. especially if you contextualize it with everything he’s said or written regarding the plight of fame and how he himself grapples with it as min yoongi.

28 - agust d ft niihwa

just this whole song. if song request encapsulates yoongi’s musical ethos, this captures a lot of his general musings.

paradise - bts

Just living like this, surviving like this, that’s my small dream; Dreaming dreams, grasping dreams, breathing breaths, it’s often too much

a more blunt take on the simply existing is a good enough dream. yoongi’s 2018 new years message was one of the things that made me go “yes. Him™” so paradise is very <3 for me

interlude: shadow - bts

Flying high scares me; I mean, nobody had told me; how lonely it is here –;how my leap could be my fall

another thing he uses frequently, even as recently as an interview regarding permission to dance. the contemplation of how a fall is far scarier than landing because getting back up is uncertain.

Yeah, I’m you and you’re me, do you finally get that now?; Yeah, you’re me and I’m you, do you finally get that now?

the entirety of this song is haunting particularly paired with the sampling and the music video as a visual but this part is just...the whole idea of competing internal voices throughout the narrative of the song or if you’d rather truly treat the lyrics like a piece of literature, you have quite the unreliable narrator, one that’s trying to grapple with his own sense of self.

140503 at dawn - agust d

Pretending that I’m not lonely, pretending that I’m not suffering; needlessly pretending that I’m okay, and pretending hard that I’m strong; I built a wall in front of me, “Don’t come inside”; I’m an island in this wide ocean, “Don’t abandon me”

the entirety of agust d just makes me ache but i mainly pulled this part because he uses the island metaphor consistently. here, it’s used like i said before; achingly.

this song also gets overlooked a lot in the larger context of agust d but anyway

eight - IU ft suga

Island, yeah this is an island; a small island that we made for each other; Yeah, mm, forever young, the word ‘forever’ is a sandcastle; A farewell is just like an emergency text warning of a disaster; A morning met together with yearning; As each of us pass this eternity, we’re sure to meet again on this island

can i be honest and say i forgot this song came out at the beginning of the pandemic. anyway, if you haven’t heard the various times that jieun has spoke about this song and it’s conveyance, i encourage you to. the music video also gives a beautiful visual.

i wrote a small analysis of this when it came out so i’ll just put it here 

burn it - agust d ft max

I hope you don’t forget that giving up decisively also counts as courage

of course this can absolutely be taken at a literal meaning especially considering he said a similar iteration of this to someone on kkul fm BUT i also like looking at it in context of the entire song because maybe this is him trying to convince himself too, especially considering the wording of the last chorus doesn’t change it so it implies in order to get past the fire u need to let it burn first? burn it = giving up on some aspect of pain?

i see why max didn’t shut up for eight months about making this song i wouldn’t either hello

outro: tear - bts

im including this one firstly because i love the song but secondly to say i knew the second u all were surprised by yoongi saying he wrote this as essentially a break up song for bts and they all cried while listening to it that y’all don’t actually read or interact w their lyrics fjdklafjsd

just bc it’s a rap song doesn’t mean it’s a diss or a flex. weirdos.

intro: never mind - bts

I hope you forget about all your mistakes and such; Never mind; It’s not easy, but engrave this in your heart; If you think you’re going to crash, accelerate more, you idiot; Never mind, never mind; Whatever thorny path it may be, go run; Never mind, never mind; There are a lot of things that you can’t control

the entire composition of nevermind is similar to first love and shadow to me where you can just hear the emotion in his voice while performing it

this is also another general idea that he mentions a few different times through different songs which as we’ve seen i am <3 for

intro: the most beautiful moment in life - bts

once again i don’t have a specific lyric to pull i just love this song so much and i feel like it isn’t talked about enough because first of all the use of the basketball throughout the instrumental, the incorporation of the origin of his stage name into an entire song regarding his general existence as a performer and coming into the beginnings of sizeable fame, and just his general way of essentially writing one giant ode to something he loves and analogizing it to something else he loves to talk through internal struggles.

aka im once again saying min yoongi you’re so cool

first love - bts

same line of awe from above this whole song is just a story, a poem, a journal entry, a beautiful confession, i don’t know. this is yoongi’s best bts solo u can argue with a wall about it also if you were able to see this live i hope u have a terrible week (im joking)

every fancam i’ve ever seen of this makes me cry. so. do with that what you will in regards to how i feel about this song.

[ressyfaerie]

Tyka request: I love bit beast merging so the idea that Tyson has been forced to merge with Black Dranzer has always floated in my head. Kai arrives too late. Boris and his Grandfather found a way to break Tyson's will to accept Black Dranzer, probably to save Kai's life and Kai can only watch!

I LOVE THIS. I am the god of angst writing, so when you ask for angst, I’m bringing A N G S T. Anything in * are Tyson’s thoughts! 

I’ve now written it all and- I just had so much fun with it. This was the kind of ask I was born for. Thank you for sending this to me- I hope you know I’ve been working on this all day lmao. It turned out way longer than I wanted it to be. But damn, it’s good. I’m going to keep the start in regular format, and put the rest in a read more, I don’t know if tumblr will even let me post this much LOL, but let’s try it: 

“Hello, Tyson Granger. Welcome to BIC” 

“Call it what it is Boris, BEGA- round two.” 

“You know better Tyson, The Beyblade International Congress is so much more.” 

Tyson scoffed, he scrunched up his face in Voltaire’s direction. 

He had one hand in his pocket, where dragoon would normally be. Instead, his hand held emptiness, there was nothing, and no one, to comfort him now. 

The room security had led him into was windowless. It could have been the basement or the hundredth floor of the building. 

Tyson had lost all sense of direction since Dragoon was stolen from him, the feeling was nothing out of the ordinary. 

The world champion wore an expression no one had ever seen before. Determined, enraged, vulnerable, confused, he felt everything all at once, there was only one thing he was absolutely certain of: 

He had to get Dragoon, and his friend’s bit-beasts back, at any cost. 

“You two know why I’m here.” 

Boris grew a porcelain smile from ear to ear. 

“To finally join our team of course.” 

Tyson laughed in response, “I never had any intention of joining BEGA, which means its shitty counterpart is out of the question.” 

“This child has grown up since we last saw him.” Voltaire leaned more on his cane, inspecting every bit of Tyson’s body. 

Tyson felt like some kid’s science project in their backyard. He shuddered, terrified to think the abbey boys lived like this every day. 

“I hoped he would have grown-up, Voltaire. It’s been almost three years after all.” 

Boris waved his hand. The security guards that escorted Tyson turned on their heels and marched out the door. Tyson was left alone with two old men, but he still felt danger. 

The silence that ensued was deafening, the glares they locked on Tyson made the hair raise on his spine. 

He now understood Tala and Kai’s fear of these men. The pure power they confidently exhibited by just standing there, was compared to nothing he had ever experienced. 

Two men, three times his age- two men who should be in jail, serving life sentences- one man who raised and abused his best friend, one man who was his best friend’s flesh and blood. 

Tyson took a deep breath. He stabilized his voice before stating his demand. 

“Give me back my bit-beasts.” 

The men let out deep laughs, starting out as low grumbles, and ascending into loud chortles. 

Boris spoke first. 

“You think you can just waltz into my high-tech facility- and I’ll just give you back what I stole? And stole so easily mind you-” 

“So, you did steal them.” Tyson’s firsts were curled, his fingertips formed indents in his palms, he wanted to lash out in anger, but he knew better. 

“Of course, wasn’t it obvious?” 

“I have proof- I’ll get the police-” 

The men laughed again, this time louder. 

“I own the police.” A shadow fell over Voltaire’s face. 

For the first time, Tyson felt true fear. 

No bit beast- no battle- nothing could compare to this. 

Tyson’s heart sunk, as he became painfully aware his overconfidence, could be his downfall. 

Now, he was trapped. 

“Would joining my team sound better if I told you you could have Dragoon back?” Boris’ voice was coated with honey, but Tyson knew better. 

Tyson’s eyes shot in Boris’ direction. He squinted his eyes. 

“Without making a deal with me, you and your friends will never see their pets again.” 

“I’ll never make a deal with you.” Tyson spat. 

“Pretty soon you’ll have no choice-” Voltaire cut Boris off.

“How old are you now Tyson?” His voice had changed, he leaned more into his cane. 

“Almost nineteen.” Tyson grinned, “I’m an adult now. You can’t hurt me.” 

The two men gave each other a look Tyson didn’t miss. Voltaire spoke first.

“What if we told you we needed your help.” 

Tyson put up his shields immediately, he raised an eyebrow. “Help? What could I possibly help two billionaires with?” 

“Something that only a blader as strong as you can.” 

“No.” Tyson refused. 

“Hear us out.” Boris took a step towards him, Tysons swore he heard a door lock behind him. 

“We have a theory- if that theory is correct, we can change the future of the sport- no, the future of everything.” 

Tyson’s interest was piqued, but that wouldn’t change his decision. 

“The answer is still no.” 

Boris took a step towards him, “what if we gave you your bit-beasts back in exchange?”

Tyson saw through Boris’ trap, it was a deal he couldn't ignore.

 Tyson just stared back at him.

Voltaire interrupted, “we have found a way to merge bit-beasts with humans.”

Tyson felt his heart stop. 

Boris grinned, presenting his hands in front of him, “the possibilities are endless Tyson, imagine- superhumans. Beyblading would ascend to a whole new level. The history of warfare changed, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. 

It was terrifying how a man could keep a smile while talking about changing the history of warfare. 

“I’m not helping you experiment by changing people into weapons.” Tyson’s face wrinkled into a disgusted scowl, “what do you need me for anyway?” 

“See, Tyson…” Boris continued, “the science has been researched for decades- but I’m fairly confident this process requires someone of a certain caliber…” 

“Someone who already has a strong connection to bit-beasts.” Voltaire stated. 

“Don’t you have tons of kids lined up in your arsenal? Why me?” Tyson’s voice grew louder. 

“Ha! None of my boys are as strong as you and your team Tyson.” Boris chuckled before continuing, “you’re special, your connection to dragoon and other spirits is stronger than anyone on the planet. You are my missing puzzle piece, I’m certain you’ll be the right fit.” 

“The other members of your team might work, but no one is like you.” Voltaire nodded, 

“No. I refuse.” Tyson took a deep breath, “I’m not your pawn, I won’t help you.” 

Silence.

Voltaire clicked his cane on the tile floor.

“I hope you are aware; if you don’t do this, we will make sure Kai will.” 

Tyson swung his head in his direction, ready to scream if necessary. 

“Ah, watch it Tyson.” Boris threatened the boy, Tyson’s chest heaved erratically. 

“What do you mean?” Tyson said through gritted teeth. “He would never agree to this-” 

“No, he wouldn’t.” Voltaire shook his head, then became totally still as his glare set on Tyson, “but I don’t need his permission.” 

“You’re sick.” Tyson spat. 

“It would be so easy.” Boris reached into his pocket grabbing a remote, he pressed a button, a screen rolled down in the large room. 

The screen turned on, on it was a picture of Kai, and a ton of numbers Tyson didn’t understand, but what caught his attention, was a simple map, with a blinking red dot. 

“We know where Kai is at all times,” Voltaire said in a low voice. 

“If you refuse to help us, we will take him as needed.” 

“That’s kidnapping.” Tyson pointed out the obvious fact, he should have known better, that stealing a person was one of the minor crimes Boris has committed. 

“Not like I haven’t done it before.” Boris shrugged, as if he was talking about taking a candy bar. 

Tyson swallowed, “he- he wouldn’t let this happen without a fight.” 

“As expected. If he fights it, the process could easily mess up… Ideally we want someone who will work with us, but it’s not necessary.” 

“I’ll find him. We will run away-” 

“When I say we know everything about Kai I mean we know everything, Tyson.” 

Voltaire looked to the ceiling, “We know when he goes for jogs.”

“Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings.” Boris raised a finger in the air. 

“We know when he eats, when he sleeps, where he sleeps.” Voltaire emphasized ‘where’ maliciously. 

Tyson growled. Voltaire hummed.

“That’s right Tyson, he’s been staying at your place frequently.”

Boris tried to suppress a laugh, “we even know what happened last Saturday-”

“Boris!” Voltaire hissed. 

Tyson’s eyes widened, “How would you know that!? We were alone, in my room, in my home!?” 

“We know everything, Tyson.” 

Tyson met Voltaire’s eyes with disgust. 

“It seems like a win-win situation, Tyson. I’m giving you a good deal, when you know I don’t have to.” Boris folded his arms. “You go through with this procedure, we give you- and your friends their bit-beasts back, and we leave Kai alone.”  

Tyson’s body felt ice cold. 

“I want you to know Tyson, Boris is too afraid to admit it-” Voltaire’s voice was draped in darkness, “we aren’t letting you leave here today without doing something.” 

Tyson stopped breathing. 

Boris confidently waltzed to Tyson’s side, Tyson didn’t move, he was paralyzed with fear. 

The purple-haired man’s face was inches away from Tyson’s now.

“You either take the deal, or have it happen anyways- but if you take the deal, world champion, you must work with us willingly.”

Tyson was his height now, but he still felt small. 

Boris placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t- touch me.” Tyson shrugged him off aggressively.

“Last chance world champ.” Voltaire clicked his tongue, “what will it be?” 

Tyson met both their eyes, looking back and forth, his breathing showed anger, his fists clenched in frustration. 

He was stuck. Trapped. Nowhere to go. He took a deep breath, held it, and let it out. He let his body accept defeat. 

“Fine. I’ll take your deal.” 

“Where did Tyson go anyways?” Max hummed to Ray while sliding his feet on the smooth wooden floors of the dojo. 

“Is he with Kai again? They’ve been hanging out a lot…” Ray pointed out. 

Kenny was sitting on the floor with his laptop open. “Tyson left just before lunchtime.” 

“No lunch!?” Hilary snapped, “that’s not like him.” 

“It’s not like him to miss practice…” Ray tried to hide the subtle worry on his face. 

“I’ll try phoning him,” Max suggested, pulling out his rose gold iPhone. 

“I’m sure he’s fine guys.” Hilary rolled her eyes, knowing the bluenette was always late. 

“We can’t be too careful…” Kenny hesitated before saying his next words, “With Boris being back…” 

The room fell quiet, the only sound was the ringing of Max’s phone. 

“He’s not picking up.” Max hung up the call.

“Try Kai’s phone,” Ray smirked. “They’re always together now.” 

Max flipped through his phone and put it on speaker. The phone rang a few times, they heard the click of it being answered. 

“Hello?” They heard Kai’s familiar gruff voice. 

“Hey Kai, sorry, are you driving?” Max spoke a little louder than usual. 

“Yeah, but I have you on speaker, it’s fine.” They heard the sounds of the highway around him.

“Hey, is Tyson with you?” Ray asked, his voice shaking a bit. 

“No, why?” They heard the sound of Kai’s blinker in the background. 

“He disappeared before lunch, he's not here for practice yet.” Max eagerly awaited Kai’s response. 

“That’s odd,” Kai remarked. 

“Are you going to be here soon?” Ray asked. 

“Yeah, I’m just coming down the road now. Have you tried phoning him?” 

“I tried…” Max fidgeted with his open hand, “he didn’t pick up.” 

“He always answers his phone.” The team detected a hint of worry in Kai’s voice. “I’m outside now.” 

They heard Kai hang up the phone, without as much as a goodbye, but that was very typical Kai. 

They sat in the same positions, wordless. They heard the front door open, the sound of Kai taking off his shoes. They heard the floorboards creak as he made his way down the hall to the dojo. The door slid open. 

“Hey Kai!” Hilary tried to be cheerful, but she just sounded worried.

 “Hey,” Kai responded. Without missing a beat, “where is Tyson?” 

“No one knows.” Kenny stopped typing at his laptop to look up at the master blader. He readjusted his glasses. 

“He left before lunch, he’s been gone a few hours.” Kenny had a hard time keeping eye contact with Kai, when Kai got serious- he got scary. 

“It’s weird of him to miss practice…” Max fiddled with his thumbs.

Ray looked up at the ceiling, “not like we can do much practicing anyway.”

The room went quiet. They were all still in mourning over the unexpected loss of their blades. The day they woke up to discover all of their blades had been stolen, was the moment they realized Boris coming back now, in their late teens, was serious. 

 “I’m worried.” Kai admitted, he pulled out his phone, and began to phone Tyson.” 

“That was fast, do you have him on speed dial?” Ray grinned trying to lighten the mood. 

Kai responded seriously, “yes.” 

They heard the phone ring a few times, before going to voicemail. Kai hesitated, before deciding to leave one. 

“Hey, Tyson- It’s Kai. Get back to me soon, I’m getting worried.” He hung up the phone and held it loosely in his hands. 

“Aw, Kai’s worried.” Hilary cooed. 

“With Boris back, and our blades gone, we can’t be too careful.” Ray crossed his arms. 

“What’s goin’ on here fellas?” Grandpa poked his head through the doors from the garden. 

“Tyson’s been gone for a long time, he’s not answering his phone.” Kenny went back to his laptop, most likely trying to find out any information he could. 

“When did he leave?” Kai asked Ryu. 

“I told Kenny when he got here, right before lunchtime- Wait K-man didn’t you stay the night last night?”

The whole room went quiet. 

“Yeah, but I was gone early in the morning,”  Kai responded. 

“You stayed the night?-” Max got cut off by Ray.

“Was he in an alright mood?” 

“He was fine.” Kai knitted his eyebrows in thought, “now that I think about it, he was in his head a bit.” 

The ground collectively became agitated, everyone knew a moody Tyson could be anywhere. 

“Did you do anything to piss him off?” Ray squinted his eyes in Kai’s direction. 

“No.” Kai knew for certain he didn’t hurt Tyson. After all, they had a great night. 

Kai tried to suppress a smile, remembering how they fell asleep beside each other watching movies in Tyson’s room. 

“You stayed the night?-” Max got cut off again by Ray-

“Are you sure Kai? You know you have a habit of annoying him.” 

“I’m absolutely certain. Tyson was fine when I left this morning.” 

“Was he up? How did you know?” Ray interrogated him more than questioning. 

Kai hesitated, he didn’t know if it was okay to tell them they slept in the same bed. 

“You *stayed* the night!?” This time Max yelled it, so he couldn’t be ignored. 

Everyone stared at Max, “Why did you stay the night? Where did you sleep?” 

“Um-” Kai tried to retort back, but suddenly realized he didn’t know what excuse to make. 

They caught his awkwardness, it was unlike the silver-tongued boy to not have a sassy remark. 

“Family troubles. I stayed in the spare room across from Tyson’s. He got up to eat breakfast with me- He was fine.”

All lies. 

“I’m going to check his room.” Kai turned around to go upstairs. 

When Kai was out of earshot, Max coyly asked Tyson’s Grandpa, “Did he really stay in the spare room?”

“Ha! No, that boy has been staying here often, and those sheets have never been changed- or used.” 

The group followed Kai upstairs like a lost herd. 

In Tyson’s room, Kai was scanning it, looking for anything off. 

The whole team looked around, but only Kai knew what was out of place. 

“Hey Kai.” Ray giggled. 

On Tyson’s vanity, yes- Tyson had a vanity, because of course he did. He had a thumb-sized picture of kai stuck to the edge of the mirror. 

“There are no pictures of us, just you- what’s up with that?” Ray pretended to act jealous. 

Kai ignored him. He gave Tyson that photo when Tyson asked for a photo of him. It wasn’t his favourite thing to look at. When he looked at it he would laugh, because it was, simply, so Tyson. 

Kai’s eyes landed on his pillow, it was poofier than usual. He ripped up the pillow and tossed it to the side. Under it was a book. Kai knew it was out of place, he had never seen Tyson pick up a book in his life. 

He opened the book and flipped through it, everyone watched him, knowing something was up. 

In the middle of the book was a note, Kai pulled it out, and threw the book to the side. 

‘I guess if you’ve found this, you’re looking for me huh?’

‘That means I’ve been gone a while, sorry.’

‘I guess you should know, if I’ve been gone a long time, something has probably happened to me.’ 

‘I’m going to see Boris. I’m leaving at 11am.’

‘He invited me. I know it’s a bad idea. I don’t want to bring anyone else into this.’

‘Especially you Kai. You’ve dealt this enough shit from that guy.’

‘I know he stole our blades, even if we don’t have proof, I know.’

‘I’m going to get them back, no matter the cost, and I don’t want anyone else’s help.’

‘I love you guys! I love you Kai.’ 

Ray snatched the note from Kai and began to read it. 

Kai put a hand to his face in shock. His eyes started to water. He was terrified, his body didn’t know how to begin to process this, but he knew he needed to go. 

“Where is he?” Kai had a voice of white anger. 

“We don’t know Kai.” Kenny recoiled. 

“Boris, where is he.” 

Kai picked up the book and flipped through it.

“We don’t know where his base is Kai-” Kenny blubbered. 

Kai threw the book against the wall at full force. 

“WHERE IS HE!?” 

Ray flipped the note over, “there’s an address on the back.”

Kai ripped it out of his hands. 

“I’m going-” 

“No, you are NOT Kai!” Ray scolded him. “We’re going to go to the BBA, tell Mr. Dickenson, and call the police-”

“We don’t have the time for that!” Kai yelled at Ray. 

The team was stunned, Kai had never been this angry. 

He placed his hands over his face and pulled them down to cover his mouth. “I need to save him.” 

“We don’t know he’s in danger-” 

“I KNOW he is.” Kai was shaking. 

Suddenly, Kai bolted out of the room with the address in hand-

“Kai!” Max called after him. 

Kai frantically began to put his shoes on, the team barrelled down the stairs behind him.

“You can’t go in there without a plan, you moron!” Hilary screeched at him. 

“Try me!” Kai yelled back. 

“What’s going on?” Grandpa had come from the kitchen, Kai used the distraction to bolt out the door to his car. 

He started the car as fast as possible and pulled out of the driveway. The team ran out to the street behind him, they watched him leave, worried they could lose both of them. 

“Take it off.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Your jacket, off- now.” 

Boris pulled at the zipper on the front of Tyson’s jacket. Tyson sighed and pulled it down. 

Boris helped him out of the jacket, he took it and wrapped it in his arms, it was oddly paternal. Boris looked him up and down, judging him, like he was looking for the best cut of meat in a shop. 

He only wore a thin black muscle shirt now, and his dark ripped jeans, with the shoes he made Kai help him pick out. He was fully clothed, but he felt naked. 

“Boris, what did I say about being creepy?” Voltaire scolded him, like a child. 

Boris rolled his shoulder, still keeping his gaze on Tyson, “Sorry, can’t help myself.” 

“Come into the lab.” Voltaire turned, heading for another door. 

Boris gently pushed Tyson by his shoulder. Tyson followed willingly, worried what would happen if he resisted. 

Inside the steel double doors was a dark room. The light turned on upon entry, to reveal computers, servers, chemistry equipment, and large water-filled tubes, big enough for a person, or a monster. 

Boris threw Tyson’s jacket to a swivel chair, he turned on a computer, Voltaire stood beside what Tyson recognized as a large bey dish. 

“I want to see my friend’s beyblades.” 

“Of course.” Voltaire disappeared behind some servers, out of sight. 

Boris clicked a mouse a few times, “huh, looks like Kai was in your bedroom. His heart rate has skyrocketed, do you have any idea why that could be?”

Tyson tried to hide his surprise. 

*Could he have found my note? No- I don’t want him to come here.*

“I don’t know.” Tyson kept his eyes on the wall. 

“Maybe he’s just doing something freaky.” Boris grinned. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

Voltaire reappeared with a black briefcase. He placed it on a table close to Tyson, but not too close. He opened it, to reveal Dragoon, and the rest of the blades delicately blacked in foam inserts. 

“I want to see them.” Tyson reached his hand forward.

Voltaire slammed the case shut. “Not until you finish our task.” 

Tyson scowled, all he wanted was to feel Dragoon in his hands again.

“Voltaire, come here.” Boris gestured to bring him over to the computer. 

Tyson tried to follow, but Voltaire stopped him with an aggressive hand signal. 

Voltaire leaned over the chair and inspected the computer screen. 

“It looks like he’s heading in this direction.” Boris was deeply concentrated on the computer screen, clicking around fast. 

“And he’s approaching fast.” Voltaire hummed, he rubbed his chin. “Stop the car.” 

“Really?” Boris had a surprised expression. 

“We can’t have him coming here can we?” 

“Alright.” Boris began to type at the keyboard frantically. 

Voltaire placed a chair in the middle of the room, he patted it, silently telling Tyson to sit down.

Tyson shook his head, Voltaire gave him an intense glare- Tyson approached the chair and sat down, making sure the men were still in his vision. 

“Boris, are you done?” Voltaire demanded. 

“Yes.” He reached towards a cupboard with glass drawers. He unlocked it and pulled out some medical supplies. 

“What’s that?” Tyson asked, worried it was for him. 

Boris swiveled over in his chair towards him. Voltaire grabbed a metal table with wheels and moved it towards Tyson. 

Boris unwrapped a cloth to reveal four syringes. 

“What are those? They better not be for me.” Tyson flinched as Boris picked one up. 

“There’s magic,” Boris got a syringe ready, and grabbed a small damp wipe, “and then there’s science, today we will be utilizing both.” 

He wiped the small cloth on Tyson’s bicep. He recoiled. 

“Don’t be scared Tyson, it won’t hurt.” 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Tyson was concerned, Boris got the supplies ready expertly. 

“I used to be a doctor.” 

Tyson’s focus lingered on ‘used to’. 

“Don’t look if it bothers you,” Boris grumbled. 

Tyson turned to look at the wall in the opposite direction as he felt the numb jab in his arm. 

Kai had never driven faster. He swerved in and out of traffic to get to the building downtown. Flying down the highway with intense speed. He slammed his hand on the wheel. 

“Fuck!” 

He looked at the speedometer, it was going down, even though he knew he was accelerating. 

“What the fuck?” 

Kai felt his car lose power. 

“No! No no no no no-”

The lights in his car dimmed, and suddenly the whole car lost life. 

He pulled over to the side of the road. Slamming his hand on the radio as if it would help. He opened his door and got out kicking the wheels of the car in frustration. 

He swore and cursed. He didn’t know enough about cars to know what went wrong, and he didn’t have time to fix it. He stared into the mass of buildings. He could make it.

He just had to run. 

Tyon had four needles shoved into his arm in total. Boris refused to tell him exactly what they were, he only answered with ‘you wouldn’t understand even if I told you’. 

Now, Voltaire watched the computer and Boris hooked up a few devices to Tyson. He wrapped a bracelet around his wrist, and something around his bicep. 

“Take off your shirt.” 

“Do I have to?” Tyson tried to give him a sassy retort, he might have been completely vulnerable, but he still wanted to keep his dignity intact. 

“Yes.” Boris grinned, flicking the end of his shirt. 

“No, you don’t have to,” Voltaire stated without pause. 

Tyson narrowed his eyes at Boris. 

“I have to attach something to your back.” 

Tyson still wore a suspicious expression, but he did it anyway, he didn’t think he could feel any more naked than he already did. 

Shirtless, he felt the cold of the lab prick at his skin. Boris attached a few small stickers to his back. 

“There.” Boris smiled, looking Tyson up and down, “I’m done.” 

“You didn’t have to take off my shirt for that.” 

Boris nodded. 

“How did I get stuck with a creep like you.” Voltaire squeezed the brim of his nose. 

“I’m merging with Dragoon now?” Tyson’s skin prickled in anticipation of getting his bit-beast back, then he realized, his skin was prickling with a different sort of heat. 

“Oh no- you won’t be merging with Dragoon.” Voltaire turned to look at Tyson. 

“Dragoon is far too unpredictable, we haven't studied him enough yet, but there is one bit-beast who we know everything about.” 

Boris turned to open a locked metal box on a table. 

Tyson rose from his seat, staring at his forearm, his body felt- weird. 

“What did you do to me?” 

“Science.” Voltaire said just under his breath, “here.” 

Boris held his hand upside down, Tyson held out his palm. He felt the familiar touch of a blade. Boris pulled his hand away, Tyson felt instant panic when he stared into his open hand. 

Black Dranzer. 

Tyson felt his whole world sway. His eyes felt heavy, but strangely, he felt strong. 

“What did you give me? Am I allergic to it?” Tyson stared at Boris.

“No,” he laughed, “You’re fine.” 

Voltaire gestured to the dish, “Tyson, launch it.” 

Tyson felt the nerve endings in his hand, anything touching black Dranzer felt numb, completely void of power. He could see the veins on his forearm, sticking out more than ever before. He felt cold air enter his lungs, and exhale. Everything was enhanced. His world was spinning, but he felt invincible. 

He could feel pulses from black Dranzer, the raw power emanating from it was toxic. Tyson could feel it begging to be used.

‘Use me, use me, use me.’

It pleaded with him. It felt addicting. Tyson now understood why Kai was so attracted to the blade, and he understood how hard it was to give it up. 

He noticed Boris had been handing him a launcher for who knows how long. 

Tyson took it, a blade and a launcher in his hands was his default state, but now felt foreign. 

“Launch it,” Boris demanded. 

Tyson turned to the dish near them. He stood in front of it. His pupils invaded his iris. 

*The pure power of black Dranzer…*

He loaded it. He stood there, breathing erratically. He got into position. 

Silence. Total silence. No sound existed, he forgot what it felt like to hear. He heard the screech of a bird in the back of his skull, and he let go. 

A shockwave erupted as black Dranzer was released, finally, after years of being locked up. The equipment in the lab slid backwards, Boris and Voltaire almost lost their footing. 

Tyson wobbled as he let the blade center in the dish, perfectly still, spinning so fast it looked stationary. 

In front of him, he saw it, the dreaded bit-beast. It felt unnatural. Dragoon felt different, Dragoon felt right, black Dranzer felt… Sad. 

*She’s not supposed to exist.* 

“I can feel her.” Tyon felt tears roll down his face. 

He held open his arms. 

“I can save you!” 

Black Dranzer screeched, with a powerful gust from her wings she soared into him. He felt a dark sludge seep into his veins, stopping his heart. 

“AhK!” Tyson held his chest, suppressing screams. 

Then, everything went black. 

“Tyson!” Kai screamed in an alleyway behind the building he suspected Boris was holed up in. 

He tried a back door, wiggling it frantically. His back was covered in sweat from running. It was locked, with no chance of it opening. 

He tried another door, the same issue. 

He could run in the front doors, but he would be noticed instantly. 

“What’s that?!” 

It looked to be an old laundry shoot, a lot of these old buildings had them. Before he could use his brain, he was scaling the shoot, it looked to be only a story and a half until it turned into the building. 

He started climbing. 

*Tyson, I’m coming. Just hold on.*

Tyson opened his eyes. Boris was beside him holding his shoulder shouting unintelligible phrases at him. Words meant nothing to him. 

His head was pounding. He used his arms to hug himself, rocking back and forth. 

“Don’t fight it Tyson. Accept it.” Boris whispered in his ear. 

“N- No.” Tyson whimpered. His head felt like it had been split open. 

His tongue felt different when he talked. His vision felt different, things felt… Wrong. He fell over to his side, letting the feeling overtake him. 

Kai was running through the empty corridors. He had run past a training facility and dorms. He had viewed a map and determined where he thought Boris would have put a lab. He threw open a door to a stair corridor and flew down them, almost tripping. He just hoped he was right about the location of Boris’ lab.

He was right. 

He found himself in a huge room, He stopped, placing his hands on his knees and gasping for air. 

In front of him were two steel doors. He knew Tyson was inside. 

With every last bit of his strength, he ran towards the doors, when he tried to rattle the doorknob it was locked, he kicked it, once, twice, three times. He took a few steps back and thrusted his whole body against them. The doors ripped open, shattering the lock in between them. 

Boris wasn’t a surprise, but his own Grandfather- 

In the middle of the room, Tyson’s body was splayed on the ground. 

“What did you do to him!?” Kai screamed. 

He ran over to Tyson, Boris tried to stop him-

“Fuck off!” Kai hollered landed a fist into Boris’ stomach. 

Boris keeled over in pain. 

Kai stopped before kneeling down. 

The most important person to him- he didn’t look like himself. 

His blue hair, now black. His nails, ebony talons. On his back, were black wings. Kai felt nauseous. 

“Tyson…” Kai collapsed beside him. 

He reached under his lower back and pulled him into a sitting position. Kai brushed back his long hair. He didn’t know what he expected coming here, but not this. 

“What happened- what did-” 

“He merged with black Dranzer, and he- is beautiful.” 

“You don’t get to speak Boris!” Kai screamed but wouldn’t dare take his eyes off Tyson. 

Tyson’s eyes flickered open, they stayed half-open, Kai shook him. 

“Tyson? Tyson, answer me, please.” 

Tyson didn’t move. 

“We just got started- You can’t- Don’t you die on me.” Kai’s throat was dry, he could barely make out words. 

“Change him back!” The blader who was most well known for being emotionless now threw everything he had at the world. Tears streaming down his face, screaming at the people who held him back his whole life. 

“We can, but we won’t right now.” 

To hear his Grandfather say it, somehow hurt more. 

“Change him back, right now.” Kai shook, holding Tyson close to his chest. 

Boris managed to stand upright after taking the powerful blow.

“We will change him back when it suits us.” 

“Mm- Kai?” 

Kai stared into Tyson’s eyes, “You’re awake!” Kai kissed his forehead, thanking the god he didn’t believe in. 

Tyson’s wings seemed to shudder when it happened. 

“I’m fine Kai, don’t worry about me.” Tyson held up his hand to stroke Kai’s face, his eyes grew wide when he saw his own fingertips.

“It’s okay- don’t look at them look at me- hey- me, look at me” Kai covered his hand with his own and made sure Tyson was focused on him. 

Tyson choked back tears, “I love you-” 

Kai closed his eyes and squeezed his hand. 

Voltaire took a confident step forward.

“We don’t want to hurt you-”

“Look at what you’ve done to him!” Kai screeched. 

“We just want you to join the new BEGA.” Boris wore a cheeky grin, he knew he won. 

Kai’s chest heaved, “I’ll never join you, never again-”

“You’ll find you have no choice Kiai.” His grandfather tilted his head. 

Boris laughed, his evil sinister laugh, the laugh Kai remembered from the abbey. 

“BEGA owns you.”

[gossipgirls]

Can you rank the main characters of the reboot so far?

ooh yeah

1. JULIEN - sweetheart!!!!! i couldn't believe how much i loved her in episode 1 and i've only appreciated her more and more with each episode. rooting for her in anything and everything. i have enjoyed every single second of her screen time.

2. luna - she was bumped way up with episode 3 because she was so fun. and has my favourite wardrobe of the show so far i think?

3. zoya - sort of mixed feelings about her sometimes (it's annoying to me that she's unapologetically dating her sister's ex-bf right in front of her... zobie is fine but not cute enough to make me root for that sdnjksd), but i mostly just want to PROTECT this girl. when she said she was 14 in ep 3 i was like WAIT, HUH???? and now i want everyone to simply back off of her immediately.

4. monet - when she has a good episode like luna in ep 3 she can be bumped up too, but so far, i just don't know enough about her for her to be as much of a favourite as i expected/hoped. i think there's a lot of potential to make her character deeper than just "mean girl" so i hope they go there (with luna too).

5. audrey - i like her! but it's almost like i WANT to like her more than i actually currently DO like her. she'll grow on me in time for sure, probably once she and aki break up lmao. fantastic wardrobe though and her reading a new woman-centered book each week is just... :').

6. max - he's moving up eventually, i'm sure of it, but for now he is simply here. the beginnings of a potentially very well-written character––he was really, really good in ep 3. and the actor has chemistry with... EVERYONE?!

7. aki - what a sweet boy but... simply no personality so far 😭 and not even in the fun nate himbo way. there are hints of it... it's there... i still totally have faith that it's on its way... but he's sitting pretty at second last place (excluding teachers) until then. i will say that the audrey/aki argument in the second episode––"i'm just looking at this objectively." "i know, and that's awful."––was so good and one of my favourite scenes so far. just felt very real, super relatable. and delivered a lot of info about each character and their relationship in one short argument (even just in those two lines)––loved it and i see lil sparks of aki's character in there LMAO.

8. obie - he's not a terrible character, but imo he has been treating julien terribly and then seems to expect julien to be the one to apologize...? totally understandable that he wanted to break up with her, but pursuing and VERY PUBLICLY dating her sister (who you know she's trying to form a closer relationship with) the literal next day? gtfo obie. he's got all of dan's worst flaws and all of nate's worst flaws wrapped into one and it's just A Lot for me at the moment. @ lunet please direct your anger towards him and leave zoya alone, thank you.

9. kate - no words... none at all.

[ggukkiedae]

❝𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕥 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕜❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ fire at music bank. that’s it. lmao no i wrote bc i like seeing bangtan toss kook into the air like that, and i may or may not have rewatched the whole episode of the show on yt... this is on the shorter side bc my brain is being taken over by school ✊🏻😪

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english

Yoonmi did not like being sick. She had been doing fine during the concert (even if she may have fallen down from a rising platform, but that’s another story). She woke up one day just before their promotions to a fever and a really bad headache. That’s how she found herself sitting back with her eyes closed in their Music Bank waiting room while the members discussed what they would do for the first place ceremony.

“We can’t just throw her into the air while she’s sick,” Jimin pointed out.

“We can’t just throw her into the air, period.” Seokjin was adamant and didn’t want to risk hurting her.

“She did say she wanted to try, though,” Hoseok pointed out and patted her knee while he said that. Yoonmi hummed in confirmation before leaning to the side and resting her head on his shoulder.

“We can do that to you when you’re better,” Namjoon promised her. Seokjin’s protests were drowned out. “For today, I think we should just throw Jungkook up. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’d enjoy it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jungkook grinned. Taehyung pretended to wrap his arms around Jungkook and throw him when there was a knock on the door. Yoongi went to answer it.

“Hi, hyungs. Is Yoonmi here?”

“Oh, Mark Lee.” Jungkook greeted the younger boy with an exaggerated accent before dragging him into the waiting room. Mark laughed.

Yoonmi opened her eyes to see her members all greeting Mark and messing around with his hat. She knew they were fond of him even if they pretended to be annoyed by her bringing her friends over at the dorm. Yoonmi got up and gave Mark a hug. She could hear snickering from behind her, probably Jungkook.

“Can I kidnap her for a bit?” Mark asked them. “I was heading to the snack area, so I’ll make sure she gets something so she isn’t both sick and hungry. Tiffany noona also asked me to bring her over when I’m on the way back.”

“You knew I was sick?”

“I know you, and I saw your broadcast yesterday.”

“Bring her back here in twenty minutes max,” Namjoon told the younger boy. Mark nodded and gestured for Yoonmi to follow him.

The two made their way to the snack area and rummaged through the table. Mark handed her a sandwich he had unwrapped already before getting one for himself.

“Eat up,” he instructed her. “I don’t know how you’re able to keep up with the choreo of both Fire and Baepsae while you’re sick.”

“When you’re sick or injured every promotion, you get used to it.” She shrugged a little before taking a bite of the sandwich. “You guys have a really complicated dance, too. A lot of control going on. Aren’t you preparing for another debut in July, by the way?”

“Yeah. Then another in August.”

“I hope you don’t tire yourself out,” Yoonmi looked at him worriedly. “Even debuting once is hard.”

“You’re literally preparing for a June solo debut, though,” Mark casually pointed out. Yoonmi’s eyes widened, and she looked around to see if anyone heard.

“Oppa, you can’t say that out loud,” she pouted at him. “It’s a surprise!”

Mark’s eyes widened as if he just realized the same thing. “Shit, uh, how about we go see Tiffany noona now?”

Yoonmi giggled at him cursing but obliged. If Namjoon were there, he’d scold Mark for cursing in front of her. Not that the other members never did, but it was still amusing.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. He really almost accidentally leaked the fact that his friend was having a solo debut soon. He felt her cling onto his arm, and he stiffened slightly. He relaxed when he saw how excited she was to be seeing someone she had been spending time with recently. From what he saw on the show they were on, the two girls have grown fond of each other. He just hoped he wouldn’t get stuck in the middle of girl talk like he did when Hannah and Yoonmi were together.

The end of the show came quickly, and Yoonmi was trying to not lean any of her weight onto Taehyung. She was slightly dizzy, but she couldn’t just leave while they were on stage. She felt Taehyung lightly tug her towards him, so she instinctively gripped onto his arm to keep from falling. The moment she did that, though, she made eye contact with a fan who was glaring at the skinship. Yoonmi immediately let go and took a step away from Taehyung.

Jimin noticed the action and exchanged looks with Taehyung. It seems the younger 95 liner noticed the same thing he did. The fan glaring and Yoonmi’s reaction. They silently agreed to take it up with Namjoon later on without alerting Yoonmi yet. She had been distancing herself recently, and they weren’t too sure why. Now, they had a hunch.

“And today’s first is BTS’s Fire!”

Yoonmi jumped and clapped her hands excitedly. She watched the other members give speeches before turning to Jungkook. “We’re gonna throw you!”

Jungkook laughed and gently nudged her shoulder with his. The way she stumbled a little too much didn’t go hidden from his sights. At his worried look and silent “are you okay,” she nodded and gave him a smile. Pretty soon, the music started playing, and the eight of them gathered towards the center.

“Thank you very much,” Yoonmi said into the mic while bowing. She giggled while pulling Jungkook over to the rest of the members. She got distracted a little when Mark called her.

“Yoonmi-ah, congratulations,” he smiled at her. “Hyungs, too!”

Yoongi almost surprisingly patted Mark’s head as the rest of the members smiled and said thank you. Mark gave Yoonmi a one-sided hug before rushing off to follow the rest of his members.

Turning her attention back to Jungkook, she grabbed hold of his hand. The other members wouldn’t let her actually help toss him, but they let her “toss” his hand into the air. She let out laughs while doing so. It was strange to do this on an encore stage where they should have been singing and rapping, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.