#not exactly a unrequited theory

[eddheadweirdo]

SOUKOKU SEASON 5 ANALYSIS

"Dazai never directly says what he wants. He always gets someone else to say it for him." -Kunikida

Very rarely do we ever see Dazai express genuineness to someone he cares about, ESPECIALLY when it comes to Chuuya. The only time Dazai is genuine with Chuuya (excludding post corruption) was when he postponed the end of the world in order to know if Chuuya wanted to know if he was human or not. So, when Dazai learns about Chuuya's vampirism, it's not out of character for Dazai to show him genuine feelings, since Chuuya wouldn't be conscious.

Except... He knew Chuuya was never a vampire.

So what do these scenes mean?

The genuineness of Dszai's speeches aren't tactically necessary, because he didn't HAVE to act like he cared just to convince Fyodor. Fyodor would have been as convinced if Dazai was also pretendung to see Chuuya as a tool. (Infact, Fyodor might have been more convinced that Dazai was protecting his partner by PRETENDING not to care).

But none of these speeches were for Fyodor. These speeches were too geniune.

Dazai didn't need to have actual flashbacks on their youth just to convince Fyodor. He didn't even have to mention that he and Chuuya, at times, bonded. These lines were unnecessary for their escape.

And then comes the biggest kicker. "Come back to me."

. . .

It's been established that Dazai didn't need to say these things in order for their plan to go well. It also wouldn't make sense that Dazai was saying these things in order to tease Chuuya (He literally reminisced on flashbacks, which Chuuya couldn't know about). The only other option is that he was being sincere.

The issue is, that Dazai never directly says what he wants. "Anything I want gets lost in the end." (Paraphrase)

But based on his actions and speeches, it seems like what Dazai is saying, is that he misses Chuuya.

The line "come back to me" no longer means "come to your senses", but "be apart of my life again."

The sad look he directs at the cieling when thinking about their youth no longer means that he's upset that Chuuya will die, but that he misses what they had.

Other lines like:

"We used to do this all the time." (Helicopter scene) Dazai once more looking back on their past.

"I've spent the past 7 years thinking of ways to kill Chuuya." (He says to Sigma) This line in particular is peculiar because Dazai figured out his weakness ages ago (poison). This just proves that he thinks about Chuuya.

Everything he says is geniune, yes, but has a second meaning to it aswell. Which, again, I highly believe is him saying that he misses Chuuya.

So what is Chuuya's reaction to this? Well, nothing. He treats Dazai the exact same way. Which completely makes sense.

He may be able to figure out Dazai's motives. But when it comes to what Dazai thinks about Chuuya, Chuuya couldn't be more oblivious. This is seen in the 15 arc, where Dazai was manipulating Chuuya to be his dog in the Port Mafia. Later in the dungeon scene when they're 22, Chuuya fell right into Dazai's manipulative trap.

Chuuya's great at picking up ques from Dazai when it comes to fighting an enemy. When Dazai's attention is directed at him, however, he's just as easy to misinterpret Dazai's intentions.

[crescenthistory]

Hey darling, how are you? Hope your having an amazing day ❤️

So I saw your prompt list and I was thinking about b6 and b15 with Regulus Black and kinda Sunshine x Grumpy, like he really tries to keep the facade of being cold and unbothered but reader is just so kind and understanding with him that he just melts whenever it comes to her, the tipical "I hate everybody but you"

hi my love, have been a bit sick and stressed lately, but finding relief in writing, so thank you for your enrichment hihi<3 wishing u the best!

Prompts: B.6 "Are you falling asleep on me?" "..." "Alright then" & B.15 "How are you so cute right now?"

Words: 3k

Warnings: not proofread, use of y/n, regulus black is traumatised and mentally unwell, reader is surprisingly stable and supportive (congrats), trying to make reggie have a dynamic and complex personality, not yet established relationship but Clearly Something, falling in love and fluff, implied fear of (unrequited) love on reggie's part

Note: y'all realllllly love the sunshine x grumpy dynamic with reggie, huh? me too dw

The library was silent except for the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional scratch of quill on parchment. A low fire burned in the corner, its light barely enough to keep the chill at bay, but the two of you had stayed long past the warmth’s welcome. The vast shelves of books loomed around you like silent sentinels, their presence familiar and comforting in the way only a quiet, deserted library could be.

Regulus sat across from you, perfectly composed, as usual. His quill hovered over a parchment filled with notes – meticulously neat, with that sense of perfection you had come to associate with him, exactly as he intended. His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes as he read, but he didn’t brush it away, too focused on whatever passage had captured his attention.

You admired him, hoping your tired gaze was not too obvious – though maybe it would be good for him to see it. The late hour was getting to you, but you didn’t want to leave, not yet. Nights like this, studying alongside Regulus, had become a routine your body craved. Though he rarely gave any indication that they meant something to him, you had come to peak far enough behind the cracks of his exterior to know he did. Should he wish to not be near you, he would have left, he never had any reservations for doing so when Barty got too many of his nerves or Sirius was too loud.

Yet here you were, both of you drowning in books, the silence broken only by the sound of your quills and the faint crackling of the fire. He seemed... content.

You shifted slightly in your seat, hoping to stifle a yawn as you stretched your stiff legs under the table. The movement caught Regulus’ attention, and he glanced up from his book, dark eyes scanning your face. 

“You’re tired,” he stated, his voice low and matter-of-fact. It wasn’t a question.

“Not really,” you lied, offering him a small smile as you looked back down at your notes, dried quill hovering over the page. You could feel his eyes on you for a moment longer before he returned to his book, but his silence spoke louder than any rebuttal. You weren’t fooling him, not for a second.

Regulus knew you as well by now, and he could easily see through your casual deflections. He was also sweet enough on you to not call you out on it yet.

Charms had never been so dreadful as it was tonight, all theory as you copied information from the textbook over onto your parchment. You felt yourself beginning to drift again, blinking only made you sleepier, and the words on the page blurring together in front of your eyes. You pressed your lips together, determined to stay focused, but the exhaustion clung to you like a heavy cloak.

You rearranged yourself to be more comfortable, bringing your legs up underneath you and leaning your head on your arm, taking up perhaps a bit more desk space than what is considered gracious.

Regulus’ quill still scratched against his parchment and you looked up at him through your lashes. He hadn’t glanced at you in a while, his brow furrowed as he scribbled something in the margin of the book he was reading. Upon your movements, though, you saw a small, soft smile tug on his lips, the kind that you weren't sure anyone but you would recognise.

It had become a familiar sight, both the smile and the way he hunched slightly over his work, his focus intense. It was like he was shutting out the world around him – around us, he had once absentmindedly corrected when you told him as much. His face blank then, not paying any mind to the giant grin growing on your own face.

“How do you do it?” you asked suddenly, surprising yourself with the question. Your voice was soft, but in the quiet library, it felt like a disruption. Regulus looked up, his quill pausing mid-scratch, abandoning his sentence.

“Do what?” he asked, his voice even, though there was a hint of wariness in his eyes.

“Stay so… focused,” you clarified, gesturing vaguely to the piles of books around you. “I feel like I’m drowning in information, but you’re always so… collected.”

There was a brief pause. Regulus stared at you for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he lowered his quill, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

“It’s easier that way,” he said quietly, his voice almost too soft for the stillness of the room. His eyes flicked to the side, avoiding yours as he added, “When you don’t let anything else in, it’s easier to focus.”

You studied him for a moment, noting the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders seemed to carry more weight than they should. There was always something simmering beneath the surface with Regulus – something unspoken, something guarded. He never let it out, never gave anyone the chance to see what was really going on inside his mind.

And yet, here you were, sitting across from him in a quiet library, long after everyone else had left, simply because you wanted to. So far, he had been brave enough to let you.

“And is that what you want?” you asked, keeping your tone light, non-confrontational. “To keep everything locked out?”

Regulus didn’t respond immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the table for a long moment before he finally met your gaze again, his expression carefully controlled. “It’s necessary,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You leaned back in your chair, letting his words settle between you. Necessary. The way he said it felt heavy, like there was so much more beneath that single word. You didn’t push. You never did. Regulus wasn’t someone who opened up easily, and the last thing you wanted was to make him feel like he had to.

You wished more than anything that he could see himself the way you did. That he could let go, just a little, and realise that he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you said softly, almost to yourself, as you turned your gaze back to your parchment.

Regulus heard you, though. He always did.

A small silence fell between you again, this one thicker with unspoken thoughts. You turned a book on its side to read it from your position lying on your arm, trying to ignore the heaviness of the atmosphere. Regulus hadn’t moved, his hands still folded in front of him, his brow slightly furrowed as though deep in thought.

“I don’t–” Regulus’ voice cuts through the quiet suddenly, making you look up. His jaw tensed slightly before he continued, “I don’t let people in because it is… easier. Safer.”

There was something vulnerable in the way he said it, as though he wasn’t used to sharing even that much. It wasn’t a full confession, not by any means, but it was more than he usually offered, and you understood how much it cost him to say even that.

“You've let me in, though, have you not?” you tried softly, offering him a small, understanding smile. “And so far it's been safe.”

Regulus blinked at that, surprise flickering in his dark eyes. He was not sure what he had expected you to say, but clearly not that.

It looked like he was at a slight loss of words, so you continued, smile still plastered on your face. "I understand what you mean, though. It's not easy to trust in general, and you have had it harder than most. Take everything in your own time, Reggie."

Regulus remained quiet, his gaze dropping back to his notes. You could feel him retreating, slipping back behind his mask, and you let him. You weren’t here to break down his defences, only to be there when he was ready to let someone in. His hand skirted closer to where yours was fidgeting with your quill – not quite touching, but close enough. Close enough.

You turned back to your book, allowing him his silence, trying to make sense of the words that felt increasingly foreign. The night was catching up with you, pulling you deeper into the edges of sleep.

“Y/N.”

Regulus’ voice brought you back to the present. You blinked, realising you had almost drifted off again, your head tilted dangerously close to the open pages of your book. There was a certain mirth in his gaze when it met yours, quickly subdued by what looked like a weary worry.

“I’m fine,” you said assuredly, straightening up in your chair with a slight wince. You could feel the stiffness settling into your back and elbow from sitting too long.

Regulus didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with that same quiet intensity he always had, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You should go,” he said after a moment, his voice softer than you expected. “It’s late.”

You gave him a sleepy smile, placing your head in your hand as you leaned on the desk. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”

Regulus exhaled through his nose, odd mixture of a sigh and a laugh. “I don’t mind being alone,” he said, though there was a hesitation in his voice that made you think he didn’t believe it as much as he wanted to.

“I know," you said, tone gentle, "but I do.”

"You mind being alone?"

"I mind you being alone."

That seemed to catch him off guard. He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he looked down at his lap, his quill tapping against the edge of the table in an absent rhythm. 

"I don't really know what to say to that." His face was still partially shielded from you, but you could see there was no menace in his words – just confusion, maybe even... amusement?

"Admitting you don't know something is a good start."

He gave you the first genuine laugh of the night, albeit small. "Okay then." He looked up at you finally, slight smile still playing over his features.

You watched him for a moment longer, noting the contrast of his tense shoulders with his humoured face. He was trying so hard to hold it together, even now.

"I'll stay here for as long as you do, Reg, and I know you still have a few pages left in you."

You leaned back in your chair again, stretching and letting out a small yawn. Regulus eyed you carefully, as if considering something.

"I do," he started. "But if you're staying any longer, you should get more comfortable."

He nodded his head towards the place beside him. While you were sitting in a wooden chair, he sat in a comfy, cushioned love-seat with just enough space for you to join him in. Had you not been intent on studying, you might have sat there from the start, but the harsher chair usually helps you study.

Now, though, you did not hesitate to slip around the table and sink into Regulus's seat with a sigh.

He looked at you over his shoulder, body still angled towards his notes, smiling fondly at you. "Better?"

"Much better, though I hope you know you're playing a risky game right now."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I might fall asleep here and you will have to stay overnight. It would be rude to leave me."

Regulus just laughed, not dignifying you with further banter, as he turned back to his books. You had one in your lap as well, but the words were mostly jumbled by now.

The next hour trickled by with sparse conversation between the two of you, mostly just the comfortable silence you had grown between you over the months. You asked Regulus a question every now and again, about coursework or life, and he gave you his usual, short answers, though with a much kinder tone than he reserved for others who pestered him with interrogations.

He was halfway through an explanation of why the professor thought it necessary to make you write an essay that is essentially just restating the textbook when he felt something soft thud against him. He looked down and saw the top of your head, hair slightly messy from the hours in the library, lodged between his uniformed arm and back.

"Amour? Are you falling asleep on me?"

"..."

"Alright, then." Regulus couldn't help the smile that tugged on his lips, filled with more emotion than he would have let slide with anyone around. "You did warn me."

Careful not to startle you, he manoeuvred himself around so you were resting against his chest instead, and then slowly lowered you backwards to lean against the back of the chair. One hand cradled your head as he moved you, so you wouldn't get whiplash – there was no other reason, of course.

You were surprisingly soundly asleep for someone who asked him a question mere minutes ago, but then again, he suspected you had been fighting sleep for around two hours. To stay here with him. Regulus's heart clenched at that, and it did not go unnoticed by him that before he would have felt immense guilt for this moment occurring, and now he just felt... oddly soft. Warm.

He tried to place you in a comfortable enough position, still keeping some of your weight up with the left side of his body. With a tentative, slightly shaking thumb, he brushed away some hair that had fallen in your face

Part of Regulus ached to stay like this. To have an excuse to be this close to you, to feel so vulnerable without the overwhelming panic that often threatened to take over his body and mind. He basked in the sense of safety you were somehow able to provide him, but it would take hard work to be able to accept and embrace it. In the creeping darkness of the library, secluded just the two of you, it felt much easier.

Yet, despite your jokes about rudely waking you up, he did not want to risk detention for the both of you by being caught staying out past curfew.

"Y/N?" With a hand on your cheek, he tried to gently move your face to get your attention and draw you out from sleep. "Hey, amour, you need to wake up."

You let out an impudent groan, eyes squeezing as you turned your head a little – into Regulus's hand, he noted with hitched breath. "W'is it?" You slurred your words and he had to stifle his laughter.

"You need to wake up, darling. You fell asleep in the library, but we're done now. Time to get back to your dorm."

You just huffed at that, clearly trying to stay asleep by burying your face – still clutching Regulus's hand to the other cheek – into the cushion behind you. He tried to use his hand on your face again to lightly shake you, but you just grabbed his elbow and held it still in response. Eyes still decidedly shut.

This time, Regulus couldn't hold back his laugh, which in turn made you squint open an eye.

"What are you on about, Reggie?" Your voice was not only rough from sleep, but a bit annoyed, which in turn made Regulus all the more humoured. He never would have taken you, with all your painfully kind words and looks and understanding, to be grumpy in the morning.

"I don't even know," he said through a rather large grin. "How are you so cute right now?"

"Don't know, just am. Come sleep."

"No, no, darling. Time to get up so you can go sleep."

It seemed as if his words somehow seeped through your mind and you finally processed the situation. You opened your eyes and all-but-jerked into an up-right position – face now rather close to Regulus's, enough to see the whiteness of his teeth as he laughed at you. He was laughing at you. The bastard.

"Good morning," he teased, forgetting himself.

"Did you call me cute?"

The humour was almost washed from his face as he seemed to wake up himself, but an endearing smile still clung to his lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mhm, sure you don't." Your smile now matched his. "How much do you have left?" You gestured to his books with your free hand – only now noticing that your other was still clutching his elbow. His hand dropped from your face the second your properly woke up, but you never let go of him. Maybe the sleep made you delirious or his comment made you brave, because you kept your hand on him.

"Oh, I'm finished." He gave you a look that you couldn't tell if was teasing because you clearly didn't or if he was lying about being done so you could go sleep. Either way, you accepted it.

"Great, let's get us to bed then, shall we?"

When Regulus got out of his seat, he held out a hand to you, to help you up. When you accepted it and ended up standing almost impossibly close to him, he didn't step back, and he didn't look away. He just smiled.

"Yeah, let's."

[ikkyfics]

hi im so in love with your writing! I was wondering if I could request an angsty remus fic? maybe with an unrequited love theme where reader has a massive crush on him but he notices and rejects reader before they can even confess? its not that’s ok! mwah tyy <33

Unrequited Love

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: It wasn’t just a crush. It was deeper, more desperate. Every day beside him was a mix of silent happiness and growing pain because, deep down, you knew he didn’t see you the same way. And yet, you clung to any shred of attention. A smile in the hallway or the sound of his name on your lips, which he always responded to with that infallible kindness. You knew you were drowning, but you couldn’t help it.

Warnings: angst

A/N: hi love, you are so kind, thank you so much for the sweet words. I hope I did something that meets your expectations - and gosh, maybe, just maybe I am a little devastated, it's two angsts in a row with my boy Remus (that said, of course I loved doing it)

Masterlist | part II

You couldn’t quite remember exactly when it all started, but at some point between shared classes and comfortable silences in the library, Remus Lupin started occupying every thought of yours. Maybe it was that afternoon, weeks ago, when he noticed you were struggling to understand the theory behind a complicated spell. He approached, gentle but not invading your space, and said: "Can I help? I think I have an easier way to explain this."

You accepted, of course, your face warm and words stuck in your throat. He sat beside you, his voice low and firm as he pointed to the lines of the book with a slender finger. Every time he explained something, he’d end it with a quick glance, as if he wanted to confirm you were following along. You were so captivated by the sound of his voice that the actual understanding of the spell came later, when you were alone.

That’s when you started noticing the details. The way he furrowed his brow when reading something particularly complicated, or how he smiled to the side, a subtle smile, but enough to light up your whole day. He was different. He didn’t draw attention like his friends, who were usually the center of any room, but there was something in the restrained gestures, the care in his words, that made him seem more... real.

You began seeking opportunities to be near him. Not that it was intentional at first, but you always seemed to end up at the table next to him in the library or choosing the same time to study in the empty classroom. He never seemed to mind. In fact, he always nodded or gave a polite "good afternoon" before returning to what he was doing.

There was that day, though, that stayed engraved in your mind with almost painful clarity. It was an ordinary afternoon, and you were in the library. You had mentioned, without thinking, that you loved chamomile tea because your mother used to say it had a "comforting taste." He chuckled softly, a sound that made your heart stumble in your chest. A few weeks later, while you were sitting in a class, he casually leaned in and murmured: "Did you know chamomile tea was used in Ancient Greece as medicine? Seems fitting, doesn’t it?"

Your head spun to him, surprised. He remembered. It was just a silly sentence you had said, but he remembered. The rest of the class passed in a blur as you replayed each word, each glance.

It wasn’t just a crush. It was deeper, more desperate. He seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, but you wanted so much to be the one who could ease some of that. Every day beside him was a mix of silent happiness and growing pain because, deep down, you knew he didn’t see you the same way.

And yet, you clung to any shred of attention. A smile in the hallway, a "Are you okay?" after a tough test, or the sound of his name on your lips, which he always responded to with that infallible kindness.

You knew you were drowning, but you couldn’t help it.

The weeks dragged on like a dream, but a dream that never became reality. With every encounter with Remus, you felt like you were floating, but there was always an invisible weight pulling you back to the ground. He was kind, considerate, but never crossed the line. Every gesture, every word, was filled with a cordiality that you desperately wanted to interpret as something more, but you couldn’t ignore the voice in your head whispering, "He's just being polite. It doesn’t mean anything."

It was in this tension that an idea formed. A letter. If you couldn’t say everything you felt to him in words, maybe you could put it on paper. You had already rehearsed so many times, in your mind, the perfect phrases, the declarations that could, perhaps, make him see you differently. But every time you opened your mouth, the words died before they took shape.

That night, sitting on your bed with the curtains closed around you, you held a piece of parchment. The quill trembled in your hand as you stared at the blank page. Your heart was pounding, a mix of anticipation and fear. What could you write that would capture everything you felt? How could you translate in words the impact he had on you, the way he made the world seem lighter just by being in it?

After minutes that felt like hours, you began:

"Remus, I know this might seem strange or unexpected, but I need to say something that I’ve kept to myself for so long that I can’t keep it in anymore. Since I met you, something inside me has changed. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s something in your gestures, in the way you look at the world, that makes me want to be a part of it. You’re more than kind; you’re someone who makes everything seem... possible. I don’t know how to put it any other way, so I’ll be direct: I like you. More than as a friend. And I needed to tell you. Because holding this in is starting to hurt more than having the courage to say it."

You stopped, looking at the words you had just written. Your breath was heavy, and silent tears threatened to fall. It was a relief, in a way, to see it all there on paper. But the weight of what could happen next was almost unbearable.

For a moment, you considered handing him the letter. Not that night, of course, but maybe the next morning, or during the next class. The idea gave you a spark of hope, but also brought an overwhelming fear.

What if he didn’t feel the same?

That question echoed in your mind, over and over, as you carefully folded the letter and hid it in the pocket of your coat. Your hand stayed there, feeling the weight of the parchment like a bomb about to explode.

Remus knew. He had known for some time. There was no way he couldn’t notice.

There was something in the way you looked at him, a hesitant and hopeful gleam, that didn’t go unnoticed. He noticed the moments when you got closer than necessary, like when you sat beside him in the library even when there were empty tables. He noticed how you seemed to hold your breath whenever he leaned in to explain something, or how your words sometimes faltered, as if the weight of something unspoken was too much.

He wasn’t a fool. The subtleties of the heart, however, were a territory he preferred to avoid. Especially when he knew he couldn’t return the feelings.

You were smart, dedicated, kind in a way that made people want to be near you, and you were beautiful. He genuinely liked your company, but not in that way. Not the way you seemed to desire. Remus felt a tightness in his chest every time this reality pressed upon him, because he knew what needed to be done. He knew that the longer he let things drag on, the worse it would be for you.

That’s why, after Potions class that afternoon, he waited for you to finish gathering your things. He didn’t know exactly what he would say, but the words had been weighing on his throat for days.

“Do you have a minute?” His voice was calm, but there was something in his expression, the way he avoided eye contact for a second longer than usual, that made your heart stop.

“Of course.” Your response was automatic, but the nervousness crept into your voice. He was serious, more serious than you’d ever seen him before, and that sent a chill through your stomach.

As you walked beside him, the hallways seemed longer, quieter. You noticed he didn’t look directly at you, and that only made the nervousness grow.

He stopped next to an empty window, where the late afternoon light fell in soft angles. You held your books to your chest, as if they were armor, while he finally turned to face you.

“I... I think we need to talk.”

Your heart seemed to beat too fast, as if trying to prepare itself for whatever might come out of his mouth. You knew he wouldn’t say this lightly. “We need to talk” was never a casual introduction, it never preceded something good. Still, you tried to hold on to the faint hope, that quiet voice in the back of your mind whispering: Maybe he feels something too. Maybe he wants to say he noticed...

“I... I need to be honest with you,” Remus began, his voice low and serious, his words carefully chosen, but they still fell like stones upon you. “I don’t think it would be fair to let this continue without saying anything.”

Your fingers tightened around your books against your chest. Without saying what? Anxiety ran like fire through your veins, and you couldn’t look away from him, even though part of you wanted to run.

“I’ve noticed that...” He paused, biting his lower lip slightly, as if the words were hard to form. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, looking away for a brief moment before meeting your eyes again. “You’ve been... very kind to me, and I appreciate that. Truly. But I... I don’t want you to think that... there’s something here that isn’t.”

The world seemed to silence around you. Only his words echoed in your mind: “Something that isn’t.” It was as if he had ripped the ground out from under you with a single sentence.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice came out quieter than you expected, almost a whisper. You knew what he was trying to say, but at the same time, you refused to believe it. It couldn’t be this. It couldn’t end like this.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He took a step closer, his gaze filled with something that seemed like guilt. “But I think you feel something for me. Something more than friendship.”

You felt your face burn, your chest tightening as if being compressed by an impossible weight. He knew. All this time, he knew.

“I...” You tried to deny it, tried to find some word that could save you from the abyss opening up, but your voice failed.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted, his voice softer now, but somehow, that only made it hurt more. “I just... I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re amazing. You’re kind, you’re smart, and anyone would be lucky to have your attention.” He sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly, as if the weight of the situation affected him too. “But I’m not that person. I can’t... see you that way.”

It was as if he had pulled the air from your lungs. Every word felt like a blade, cutting slowly but deeply. You felt tears burning in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of him.

“You’re saying that...” You stopped, swallowing hard, your throat too tight to continue.

“I don’t want you to have hopes where there’s no space for them,” he said softly, as if trying to minimize the impact, but the pain was already there, overwhelming and absolute.

You didn’t know what to say, how to respond. All you could feel was the crushing rejection, the weight of knowing he would never look at you the same way. It was worse than you had imagined, because he wasn’t being cruel. He was being honest, and his honesty hurt more than any cruelty ever could.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, almost in a whisper, and those words were the final stone that fell upon your heart already in ruins.

You nodded quickly, unable to trust your own voice, and took a step back. You wanted to say something, wanted to pretend you were fine, but there was nothing that could be said. So, you just turned and left, feeling his eyes on your back but not looking back.

The first tear fell before you even turned the corner.

Each step echoed like a drum in your ears, blending with the disordered sound of your thoughts. You pressed the books to your chest so tightly that your fingers began to ache, but it was better to focus on the physical pain than the agony that was boiling inside you.

The students around you laughed, talked, ran. The castle was alive, pulsing with the energy of carefree teenagers, but everything felt muffled, distant, as if you were walking through a bad dream.

You turned down a random hallway, not even knowing where you were going, just needing to get away from everything and everyone. Your heart pounded in your chest, and the knot in your throat seemed to tighten with every passing moment, as if it were impossible to swallow the weight that kept building there.

Finally, you found an empty corner, behind a worn tapestry that no one seemed to notice. It was a temporary hiding spot, but it was all you needed. You threw yourself against the cold wall, sliding to the floor, the books falling from your hands as the tears you had held back for so long finally overflowed.

They came hot and relentless, streaming down your face mercilessly. You tried to stifle the sobs, biting your fist, but it was useless. The pain felt like its own entity, growing and spreading inside you.

Your chest ached, a physical sensation of emptiness and tightness that almost made you gasp for air. Your hands trembled, gripping your knees as if they were your only anchor. He knew. Those words echoed repeatedly in your mind. He had known all along.

Worse yet, not only did he know, but he had decided to tell you in such a careful, gentle way that the rejection became even more painful. He hadn't looked down on you, hadn't mocked you, but that only made it crueler. He had looked directly at you and said, without hesitation, that there was no space for you in his heart.

You closed your eyes, trying to breathe deeply, but all you could see was his face. The calm expression, the soft tone. The contrast between his kindness and the brutality of what he was saying was unbearable.

What had you done wrong? The question burned like fire, consuming everything around you. You replayed every interaction, every glance, every word spoken. There was no way to erase the moments when your heart raced for something he said or did. There was no way to turn back time and rip the feelings from yourself that you knew he would never return.

In the distance, you could hear other students passing by, carefree voices, laughter filling the hallways. Life continued as if nothing had happened, as if your world hadn't ended in that moment. The contrast was suffocating, a reminder that your pain was yours alone.

You hugged your knees, trying to diminish the feeling of falling apart. All you wanted was to disappear, to become invisible. Maybe, if no one saw you, no one would know how broken you were.

Time seemed to drag on, but it also slipped through your fingers like sand. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed since that conversation. Days? Weeks? Every unavoidable encounter with him felt like tearing the scab off a wound that hadn't even started to heal.

Classes became a kind of silent torture. He was always there, just a few meters away, and you could feel his presence like an electric current pulsing in the air. Sometimes, your eyes would meet for a brief moment, and he’d smile hesitantly, almost as if he were trying to offer some form of comfort.

But there was no comfort to be found.

You started changing seats in classes, picking places farther away. You walked through the hallways with your eyes on the floor, avoiding any chance of crossing paths with him. When he was with James or Sirius, laughing and talking loudly, you found some excuse to leave. Seeing that smile, hearing that laugh, felt like a cruel reminder that his life was going on without interruption while yours was in ruins.

You knew he noticed. Remus Lupin was perceptive, perhaps more than anyone you knew. And that’s why, on an ordinary afternoon, he came over.

The hallway was empty, and you were organizing the books in your bag with slightly trembling hands. When his shadow fell over you, your stomach tightened instinctively.

“Hey,” he began, his voice low and cautious, as if he were walking on glass. “Can I talk to you?”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to turn and run, wanted to scream for him to leave you alone. But instead, you just nodded, because running now seemed useless.

He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I... noticed you’ve been avoiding me.” He ran a hand through his hair, a habit you knew all too well. “I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

The bitter laugh almost escaped your lips, but you swallowed it. “Like what?” Your voice came out harsher than you intended, but your heart was pounding so hard that it was hard to control.

“Distant.” He took a step closer, but stopped when he saw you recoil, even if it was just a little. “I... hope we’re still friends.”

The word pierced like a sharp blade. Friends. Of course. That was what he wanted from you. What he always wanted. And hearing it, said so gently and sincerely, made it hurt even more.

You wrapped your arms around your body as if that could contain the emptiness spreading inside you. “Friends,” you repeated, testing the word on your lips. It felt strange, bitter, as if it didn’t belong there.

“Yes.” He gave a small, hopeful smile. “I really... I’m so sorry, you know? For everything. I never meant for you to feel like this.”

“I know.” Your response was barely audible. You knew he didn’t want to hurt you. That made it all worse.

There was an uncomfortable silence between you. He seemed to be waiting for something, maybe a confirmation that everything was okay. But you couldn’t give him that. Not now.

“I... I need to go,” you finally said, your voice trembling as you slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Of course,” he replied, a little hurriedly. “But... we’re okay, right? I just want you to know, if you need me, I’m here.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, trying to breathe, trying to stop the pain from overflowing once more. When you opened them, you forced a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine, Remus. Thank you.”

Before he could respond, you turned and walked quickly, feeling the tears threatening to fall.

As you turned the corner, you leaned against the wall for a moment, your eyes burning and your breath heavy. He wasn’t cruel. He would never be. And maybe that was exactly what made it all so unbearable.

Night had fallen over Hogwarts, and the castle was immersed in a heavy silence. You were in the farthest corner of the common room, where no one seemed to notice your presence. The only company was the fireplace, its flames flickering irregularly, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

In your hands, the letter you wrote weeks ago trembled slightly. The parchment was crumpled and worn at the edges, as if it had been handled countless times but never read by anyone other than you.

You remembered exactly the moment when you wrote it, the words flowing like a confession from your heart. It was everything you wanted to say to him. All the feelings that had been growing, gaining strength and life of their own. You had poured out every thought, every heartbeat, with the naive hope that he might feel the same.

But now, all that remained was a useless piece of paper.

You smoothed the parchment carefully, your fingers tracing the words written in your hesitant handwriting. Each sentence seemed to mock you now, like a cruel reminder of everything you felt and everything that would never be returned.

The flame of the fireplace seemed to call to you, its warmth offering a final solution to the weight you carried. With a trembling sigh, you stood up, feeling your heart tighten in your chest.

You hesitated for a moment, the letter still firmly held in your hands. Part of you wanted to keep it, hold onto it as a reminder of something that once mattered. But another part of you knew you needed to let go, even if it meant releasing something you never truly had.

"I could never be enough for you, could I?" you whispered to no one, your voice barely above a thread.

Finally, you brought the parchment closer to the flame, and it began to burn slowly. The edges darkened and curled, the fire consuming the words that once seemed so important. You watched each line disappear, one after another, until all that remained was ash and embers.

The pain in your chest was unbearable, but you stood there, motionless, watching as the last particles of the letter were carried away by the wind from the fire. It felt like watching the end of something that never had the chance to begin.

You sat on the floor, pulling your knees to your chest, the tears finally falling freely. They burned, hot and relentless, as you wondered how it was possible to feel so much for someone who would never look at you the same way.

Despite everything, you knew you still loved him. That was the cruelest part of all. Even after all the pain, all the rejection, you couldn’t simply turn off your feelings. He was still the one who made your heart race, who inhabited your dreams, who carried the weight of your hopes and fears.

But he would never be yours.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | March 18th-24th 2024

It's a long one today folks! I hope you enjoy! :) If you know anyone who's not tagged, don't hesitate to let me know!

idk 'bout you but I can't wait for the final part of the premiere on Thursday!!! 😃

Complete

anything that is beautiful, people want to break. by dylaesthetics (Post-Coma, Trans Buck | 3K | Teen): Buck has never meant to keep it a secret from the one-eighteen. Hell, he trusts them with much more gritty, uncomfortable stuff than that. It’s more like… It hasn’t come up. There’s been no reason for it to come up. But then he gets struck by lightning and the mix-up with his medical records happens. A nurse he hasn’t seen yet barges into Buck’s hospital room, with his entire family in it, blood and found alike, and stares at him for one dumbfounded moment before blurting out a name he hasn’t been addressed by in well over eight years. 

not flesh and blood but the heart by Jinko / @jinkohhh (Post-S6, Getting Together | 10K | Explicit): Five times people assumed Chris was Buck's son + one time Eddie confirmed it.

🔥 don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (S7 Spec, Bachelor Party, Pretend Relationship | 14K | Teen): or, chris wants dating advice and it turns out taking your best friend on a pretend date to practice being as romantic as possible is not a good idea in theory or in practice, considering the pesky being-in-unrequited-love of it all

A Little Bit of the Bubbly by Jinko/ @jinkohhh (Post-S6, PWP, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit): Since turning 30, Buck's relationship with champagne has changed. It also manages to change his relationship with Eddie.

washed away (but not) by Jinko / @jinkohhh (S7 Spec | 3K | Teen): “Well, this is awkward.” Every part of Buck wanted to tell Chim to go fuck himself, but he couldn’t, so he didn’t. Nothing made a situation more awkward than pointing out the awkwardness of it. “So which one of you two made the deathbed love confession?” Ravi laughed, and frankly, Ravi could go fuck himself, too. The both of them could go fuck themselves because both Chimney and Ravi were correct.

i like the way you scratch my itch by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (BTHB: Hives | 3K | Teen): Buck’s big blue eyes sparkle. “You’re so cute, did you know that?” he asks, leaning close enough Eddie can count the small red-brown-orange freckles all across his nose. “Even when you’re red from poison ivy.” Red. Red from the poison ivy. Yeah, yep, that’s exactly what he’s so red for. Absolutely.

meet you in the middle. by dylaesthetics (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): OR buck and eddie get their shit together during a regular friday movie night at the diaz house.

🔥 Even in Winter There is Eranthis by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels / @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Hades/Persephone AU | 45K | Explicit): Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld. Now bound to Eddie, the god of the dead, Buck must spend half the year with him in the Underworld while winter reigns above. But even as something grows between them, there are still trials to endure. Just because the gods are not mortal... does not mean they cannot die.

🔥 My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Mythological AU, BDSM | 80K | Explicit): When Eddie needs cash and fast to take care of Christopher, his LAFD Academy buddy suggests a job as a bouncer at Elysium - an exclusive sex club in downtown Los Angeles. Eddie doesn't care what goes on there, so long as he's paid, but he finds he cares a lot bout the club's enigmatic owner, Evan Buckley, and it's not long before the two of them are violating every boss-employee rule in the book. But there's something different about Buck and the club, something not quite... human. If Eddie wants to keep Buck, he's going to have to delve into the world of immortals, and all the risks that implies.

and check out the amazing podfic!! 🔥 My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314

hold tight, you’re slowly coming back to life by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (S7E01 Coda, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Eddie runs into Natalia at the grocery store. He learns something about her and Buck’s breakup that gives him the final push to take care of his own complicated love life.

🔥 miracles under your sighs and moans by napricot (Sex Pollen, PWP | 21K | Explicit): When Eddie gets exposed to an experimental aphrodisiac on a call, he realizes there’s only one person he trusts to help him get through it: Buck.

Touch Me and I'll Scream by rogerzsteven/ @rogerzsteven (BTHB: Unhealthy Coping Mecanisms, Established Buddie | 5K | Mature): At his low, Buck uses rough sex as a way of self harm.

in another life by bellabrady (Coma AU | 2K | Not Rated): Or: Buck's in a coma and dreams of a life where Daniel never died and he never became a firefighter.

Locations by rogerzsteven/ @rogerzsteven (BTHB: Vomiting, Drowning | 4K | General): In which Buck drowns.

I was born to take care of you by Beulaugh/ @if-music-be-the-food-of-love (Getting Together | 3K | Mature): Buck has a revelation at work and then promptly falls on his face. Eddie Diaz's ass: 1, Evan Buckley: 0

hold the silence. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6 | 3K | Teen): OR while looking for clothes to donate, Buck stumbles upon the shirt he was wearing when Eddie got shot.

Tomorrow we can drive around this town by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (S7 Spec, Drunk Eddie | 4K | Mature): If Eddie had been sober, he would have realized it wasn't something to be happy about. But drunk as he was, it had the blood singing in his veins, because Buck was going home with him, not Tommy. Tommy could go fuck himself – or you know, anyone else who was willing, but not Evan Buckley. Because Eddie was a pathetic, sloppy drunk and his best friend had a responsibility to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit or drown himself in the bathroom sink.

sang to the sea for feelings deep blue by Tizniz/ @tizniz (S7 Spec, Cruise Ship Emergency | 14K | General): God, he hopes Buck got out. That he isn’t trying to get to Eddie. That he gets to go home. And not just because Christopher needs him, although he does since Eddie is fairly certain he’s not making it home this time. He doesn’t let himself dwell too long on that thought. No, Eddie wants Buck to go home because he deserves it. Because Buck deserves to live. Because Eddie needs him to live.

you've got game by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (S7E01 Coda, Established Buddie | 1K | General): a silly little late night conversation about chris being a 'ladies man'

take this life and make it yours (take this heart and let it love again) by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Canon Divergent, Post-Coma | 31K | Mature): Before he could second guess it, he’d dialled Eddie’s number and listened to it ring in his ear. As soon as he heard the click of the connection, he said, “Eddie, what the hell, man?” “I meant what I said. I don’t know who you think you are, but call this number again and I will contact the police.” . . . or, the one where Buck finally figures out he's in love with Eddie, only for things to not go as planned. At first.

if i bleed, you'll be the last to know by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (S7, Hurt Buck | 6K | Teen): buck gets stabbed while out on a run and then... doesn't tell anyone about it. eddie loses his shit when he finds out, they have a moment in the kitchen and they kiss.... not necessarily in that order.

Baby, take me by 42hrb / @exhuastedpigeon (S7E01 Coda, Getting Together | 4K | Explicit): “Same thing,” Eddie nuzzled him, stubble scratching even more as he moved his face. When he stopped nuzzling, he pulled back far enough that he could see Buck’s face. “I said stop thinking.” “Kinda hard to turn my brain off.” “Pretty sure I turned it off just fine last night,” Eddie said with a smirk that went straight to Buck’s cock, already half hard just from the way Eddie’s stubble is dragging across his skin. “Is that how I get you to stop thinking?”

when you call me yours by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (Established Buddie, Proposal | 5K | General): Buck starts calling Eddie his husband. Only problem...they're not engaged. aka the 5 times Buck refers to Eddie as his husband and the 1 time Eddie makes it true.

just lay back in my arms for one more night by diazbegins/ @evanbegins (Established Buddie, Fluff | 2K | Teen): Buck loves Eddie as he naps.

Brat Burrito by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Established Buddie | 1K | General): Just a cute Buddie moment about breakfast burritos.

it's a sliding into home kind of day by devirnis/ @devirnis (PWP | 3K | Explicit): Eddie’s eyes still don’t leave the television. Frowning to himself, Buck cranes his neck to get a look at what could possibly be more important than him coming home after covering a tragically Eddie-less shift. A baseball game evidently is the answer.

your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep by BekkaChaos/ @bekkachaos (New Years Eve, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): aka, Eddie's in love with Buck and he doesn't know how to tell him, until there's a miscommunication and fate (well, Hen) intervenes.

Loose Threads by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Secret Relationship | 3K | Explicit): New to dating and keeping it quiet, Buck and Eddie get a little carried away on a slower shift at the firehouse. But when the alarm eventually sounds, a spur of the moment mistake leaves them a little mixed up.

Married Life by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew)/ @911onabc (S5, Getting Together | 2K | General): Taylor films Buck for a TikTok challenge, and Buck finds out he would much rather be his best friend’s husband than his girlfriend’s.

A Seal By Any Other Name (Would Still Be My Best Friend) by bigfootsmom (Seal!Buck, Post-Tsunami | 5K | General): Evan "Buck" Buckley is a collection of oddities. But they're just what makes Buck Buck and Eddie loves him for them. Eddie had thought that after their years of friendship (and maybe something more) that nothing Buck could do would surprise him anymore. But there is one oddity that Eddie never saw coming. “How about you start with why there was a seal in my bathtub and now there’s just you in my bathtub.” (Part 1 of Seal!Buck as in the aquatic mammal)

Just Add Water by bigfootsmom (Seal!Buck, Tsunami | 3K | General): There may be more to Buck than meets the eye. But he's still only human(ish) and getting stuck in a natural disaster with his best friend's son is still all sorts of terrifying. A small hysterical part of his brain thinks about how ironic it would be if this was how he died. Him, a mythical aquatic creature, drowning. The universe would surely laugh and the long line of Buckley ancestors would turn in their graves. (Part 2 of Seal!Buck as in the aquatic mammal)

you can be my daddy (come on, you know you like) by bigfootsmom (Getting Together, Daddy Kink | 4K | Mature): Buck has a teeny tiny problem. One, he's in love with his best friend. Two, he wants to call said best friend Daddy.

It's the softness that breaks you by bigfootsmom (BDSM, Hurt/Comfort | 6K | Explicit): Or the one where Buck has more issues with intimacy than he had originally thought.

lay your love on me by bigfootsmom (PWP, Getting Together | 3K Explicit): Buck never thought the words he said to Eddie in the kitchen would ever come back to haunt him like this. Honestly, he’s not complaining.

you made me feel (i've got nothing to hide) by bigfootsmom (Virgin!Buck, Established Buddie, PWP | 8K | Explicit): Buck has a secret: Contrary to popular belief, Evan "Buck" Buckley is actually a virgin.

WIP

🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 22/? | 162K | Explicit | ❗️Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 6/18 | 37K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 122/? | 374K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon - 003

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x fireader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 2.3k

author’s note: if you asked to be in the taglist and you’re not, i apologize. it wouldn’t let me tag some of you. and yes, the person featured in this chapter is exactly who you probably think it is. also warning because this chapter may be triggering as it has attempted s/a.

You stare dolorously at your reflection through your vanity mirror; there was a desperate desire to wipe off all the makeup that coated your face. If the action didn’t come with an unpleasant outcome, you probably would have. Especially if it made you unappealing to whatever “guest” your stepmother had coming by.

You were adorned in a sultry black dress that was form fitting and showing off your curves. One thing your stepmother loved doing more than degrading you was dressing you up like her own personal doll. You hated it. You never pictured yourself as the sexy type. You didn't wear makeup because that merely wasn’t your cup of tea, and typically dressed down to avoid unwarranted gazes from depraved men.

Not that it mattered anyway. Dressed up or down, it still never ceased a creep from saying anything perverted. Merle Dixon proved that theory for you when he referred to you as “sugar tits” the couple times you’d been around him.

You get up from your vanity stool, shuffling over to your bed. You plop on the edge, trying to calm your nerves. You never knew what to expect from the men Sandra brought over. Some of them like to sit and talk before they get to business, while others like to jump straight into it. Some of them were vanilla and traditional, while others had kinks they were into.

None were ever too extreme, but it all made you feel filthy and uncomfortable nonetheless. What made you more unsettled was how many of the men were old family friends, or people in the neighborhood. It surely opened your eyes to how fiendish humans could be.

That’s why you always cherished your friendship with Daryl. He could be an asshole, and a bit prejudiced at times but deep down he had a heart of gold. You were lucky to be able to witness that side of him. He gave you hope for humanity.

A hard knock at your closed door interrupted your thoughts. You could feel your heart beating through your chest as it often did when this ordeal occurred. You let out a deep, unsteady sigh before speaking. “Come in.” You say. As the door opens, you’re face to face with a man you’d never seen before. “Well hello there.” He smiles, shutting the door behind him.

“H-hi…” you mutter, examining the man in front of you. He had longish gray locks, and facial hair. And he wore a buttoned up black long sleeved shirt embroidered with skulls and roses on it. He gave off a biker style. “I’m Joe.”

“Y/n.” You reply dryly, now looking away from the man.

“You’re very beautiful. I wasn’t sure what to expect.” He laughed heartily as though this whole scenario wasn’t disturbing. You don’t bother to respond, wanting the man to just get started and let this baptism of fire end. The man seemed to notice your lack of communication, and walked over to you. You tense a bit, but he suddenly takes a seat on the edge of the bed with you.

“You seem apprehensive, darlin’.” He says.

You weren't sure what he was expecting from this situation. You were being trafficked by your stepmother, and he was a dirty old man contributing to the crime. The man pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Y’know,” he starts. “I get it. This isn’t the most forthcoming thing to be happening right now, and you probably think I’m just a pervy old gu–”

“Can we just… not talk? I want this to be over as quickly as possible.” You finally speak up. The man looks at you, his expression suddenly changing from faux sincerity to an off putting smile. “Oh darlin’, this won’t be quick. It’s been awhile, so it might take me some time.” He chuckles before standing up and moving in front of you.

You keep your head down, not bothering to look at him until you hear the sound of metal clanging together. The man suddenly throws handcuffs beside you where he was sitting. You scrunch your brows together, looking from the cuffs to him. “Cuff yourself to the headboard.” He says, his tone demanding and not as laidback as it was moments ago. His entire demeanor had changed like the flick of a switch.

Your eyes widen at the command. You had never been cuffed to the bed before from any of the past men. The thought of being restrained and not able to fight back if anything happened frightened you. You weren’t so willing to put your trust, or even life into the hands of this stranger, who you were now getting an unwavering feeling about. “Go on. Do it.” He pushes.

“I don’t think… I don’t think I should.” You say slowly, looking away from the man’s displeased face. “You don’t… think you should?” He repeats your words just as slow. You nod your head. “I just wanna be comfortable. That’s all.” You try your best to get him to rethink the cuffs, but he seemed to be dead set on them. “Your mama back there told me you were obedient. I didn’t pay nearly $200 for you to tell me what you won’t do, girl.” He spat.

You cringed at him referring to Sandra as your mother. She could never be your mother. “She’s not my mother.” You correct him. The man scoffed. “I don’t give a damn who she is to you. I paid that money, and I’ll get what I want even if I have to cuff you myself.”

You shake your head. You didn’t care if you were going to suffer the consequences from this later. You’d put up with a lot of odd things from these men, but even the sheer thought of being cuffed to the headboard gave you crippling anxiety. You stand up from the bed, the man still towering your small frame. “I’ll get you your money back,” you assure him. “But I can’t allow you to cuff me.” You stand firm on your decision.

You tried to push past him to leave the bedroom, but were suddenly snatched by your wrist and pulled back. “Ain’t no need for that girl because I’m getting my money’s worth.” He says before tossing you to the mattress. You quickly try to get back up, but he’s pushing you down and grabbing the cuffs. “Get off me!” You shout, struggling against him.

“You’re only going to make this worse for you. Stop squirming.”

A stinging sensation comes across your cheek and you cry out in pain. The man had slapped you, leaving your cheek heated. “Sandra!” You yell for your stepmother in the most desperate attempt to get the man off of you. You knew better though. Your stepmother didn’t care what happened to you. As long as she got money, you were at the mercy of the men who paid her.

You muster up all your strength, finally able to flip the man off of you. He falls to the floor with a thud and a “oomf”. You use this opportunity to quickly jump from the mattress. The man swiftly gets back up to his feet. You know you had no time to make it to the door without him stopping you. You run to your dresser, grabbing the razor blade off the top of it.

Joe approaches you in ignorant bliss, unaware of the tiny blade you held. “Nowhere to run, girl. Let’s just bury the hatchet and start over. No cuffs.” He offers as if you were going to let this psychopath have his way after what he tried to do. “Fuck you, pig.” You snap.

“Have it your way.” He says, lunging at you. You speedily swing your arm, the blade cutting the man’s hand. He steps back, holding his bleeding hand. “You little bitch!” He shouts in pain. You take this opportunity to run to the door, ripping it open as you run out to the living room. You head for the front door, but are immediately grabbed. “Hey!” Your stepmother shouted. “What the hell’s going on? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“That bastard tried to assault me, didn’t you hear me screaming for you?!” You cry.

“Assault? Did you forget your place, girl? He’s supposed to do that.” She spat angrily, knowing she was going to lose money for this.

“He tried to make me cuff myself to the bed, and when I told him no he tried to force me!”

“You think you have a say in what goes on? I do! If he wants to cuff you to the damn bed, then so be it. He’s a paying client, and I will not lose out on my money just because you wanna bitch about goddamn handcuffs!”

You look at her through wide eyes. Your stepmother was always cruel, this was no shocking matter. But to let this man attempt to assault you and tell you to just deal with it? You refused. You shake your head, snatching away from her grasp. “No.”

“No?” She questions. “I’ll teach you to tell me n–”

“I want my goddamn money back, bitch!” Joe came stumbling into the living room, his hand dripping blood. Your stepmother turns to him, her eyes drifting from him to his hand. “What the fuck happened to your hand?” She asks.

“That little whore cut me, that’s what!” He grimaced. “I want my money back, or both of you bitches are gonna pay.”

“Listen, I’m sure there’s a way we can work this out.” She tries to reason with him. As the two of them go back and forth, you use the opportunity to make your grand escape. You whip around, running to the front door before jerking it open and running outside. You could hear your stepmother yelling your name as you ran down the street barefoot.

You run to the only place you could run to, the only person you could run to.

You ran the entire 20 minutes until you finally reached the trailer parks. You walk through the gravel trail, ignoring the pain of rocks digging into your feet. You’re relieved as you see the Dixon residence lights on. You walk up the stairs, frantically knocking on the door.

“You get into some kinda trouble again, boy? Who the hell is bangin’ on the damn door like the feds?”

“Hell should I know?” You hear Daryl’s voice, footsteps approaching. You step back as the door opens with Daryl on the other side of it. Daryl’s staring at you, a worried expression on his face as he looks your shaken frame over. “Who the hell is it?” Will yells.

“It’s for me.” Daryl responds, closing the door as he steps outside. “The hell happened to you?” He’s grabbing your chin, looking you over. “Is that blood?” There’s a hint of fear in his voice at the thought of you getting hurt that bad. You nod your head. “But it’s not mine,” you assure him. “It’s some guy. I cut his hand after he tried to…” your lip quivers, eyes watering as you try to force yourself to explain to him, but he stops you.

“You ain’t gotta repeat it. He still there? I’ma kill that son’na bitch.” He stomps down the stairs. You follow him. “Daryl, no, wait!” You grab his forearm, stopping him. “Fuck we waitin’ for, huh?! I ain’t just gonna let ‘em get away with it!” He swings his arm in frustration.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say. “Last night you said this doesn’t have to be our reality…” you pause before speaking again. “So run away with me.” You speak through glossy eyes.

Daryl stares at you with a blank expression, as though he didn’t hear you. “What?”

“Let’s run away,” you repeat. “We could go anywhere. We could start over. Get out of this fucking dead weight town, with these twisted fucking people. Me and you…”

You await his answer, hopeful that he’d agree.

But he didn’t.

“I can’t.” He replied.

“What do you mean you can’t? Yes you can. We could leave right now and never look back, Daryl–”

“Man, I said I can’t!” He snapped. “I can’t just leave Merle alone with that asshole in there. He’s my brother.” You stare at him in shock. “And what am I to you?” You ask him. He doesn’t answer, looking away from your hurt gaze. “What am I to you?” You ask again, your eyes watering. He still doesn’t answer, almost as if he’s afraid to say.

“You think he cares about you? You’re not even worth a damn to care about.” Sandra’s voice echoes in the back of your mind.

“Oh god… Sandra was right. You don’t give a damn about me…” you push past him, on your way to leave the trailer park but Daryl hastily grabs you. “Aye, stop. You know that shit ain’t true. I just… I just need you to wait. Once Merle’s outta jail I’ll tell him so he can come with us.”

The thought of Merle tagging along wasn’t ideal. All his presence would do is drag Daryl down and the whole point of you two running away together was to get away from bullshit. Unfortunately Merle brings bullshit wherever he goes. Regardless of that fact, there was no clear way of knowing if he’d even come along when he’s out.

“And what if he says no? Then what?”

Daryl goes silent again, but that was all the answer you needed. You nod. “I get it,” You whisper. “Stupid of me to ever think you’d choose me over blood.” You sniff, laughing at yourself. “When he’s out,” you say. “We’ll ask. I’ll wait a little longer.”

“Will you?” He speaks up. Now it was your turn to go silent, not answering his question as you began to back away to leave. “I’ll see you later, Daryl.”

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem, @mosstheshoeshoethemoss, @scripteria, @moonlightreader649, @creepumiku, @filmsbyblair, @ginger-haired-queen, @darylsdollie, @inkofthebrain, @teethvenom

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XX

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. Mentions of injuries, marriage, and... Huh, that's it.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX

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

“Did you know [name] rejected a marriage proposal from the Zen'in?”

Satoru almost spat out the tea he was drinking upon hearing Ieiri’s words. Then he did his best to put on his nicest smile.

“And I thought you didn’t like cracking jokes, Shoko.” He laughed, but in reality, he could not find it funny.

“I wish I were joking,” she said taking her own cup to her lips.

Seriously, it’s not funny.

Why the Zen'in? Who among the Zen'in? Who was idiotic enough to…?

“I’m not sure of who exactly or why. All I gathered is mostly gossip,” Shoko went on, not allowing any more questions to form in Satoru’s mind. “But what I do know is that the rejection was not taken kindly.”

Of course, a rejection would not have been taken kindly by them, but it still puzzled Gojo, and by the look his friend had on her face, Shoko felt the same way. Was it even allowed to reject anyone from the Zen'in?

You did not come from a renowned sorcerers’ clan, for that reason you probably had no one who would fiercely push you into an arranged marriage, but it was also why it did not make sense that anyone related to the Zen'in had taken a special interest in you, someone who virtually had not a strong presence in the jujutsu world.

“When?” Satoru asked.

“Weeks ago, maybe more,” his companion stated.

Maybe around the time they started coming back with more wounds than explanations.

That led Shoko to the second half of her theory. Whoever you had made angry, had enough connections to keep stepping on your heels while you were out completing missions.

Shoko started digging into it after the last time you had come to her back from a battle. Your injuries had been bizarre for the simple routine mission you had told her you were going on that night, and after seeing the report of your mission, she noticed the curse you had fought had been misclassified. “That happens sometimes, it’s unfortunate it happened to them,” Ijichi had said, unaware that those misfortunes had been happening a lot with the missions assigned to you as of lately, as Shoko herself realized after looking at all reports from your missions of the last couple of months.

It could be someone from the higher-ups, but if I told that to Gojo, he might just go and kill them all.

Ieiri took a look at him. Judging by the thin line on his lips, he was in deep thought. Contrary to what Shoko had been expecting, she had surprised him, at least as much as one could surprise Gojo Satoru.

You did not tell him that either, huh, [name]?

“Don't think much of it,” Shoko said in an attempt to pull Gojo back to Earth, "[name] did not tell me anything, but if someone is holding a grudge and trying to do a number on them, I think...”

“I won’t let it happen,” Satoru’s voice sounded definitive. "I won't let anything happen to them."

I hope so, Shoko thought.

***

“Honey, I’m home!” Satoru cheerfully exclaimed upon crossing the door to your apartment.

You rolled your eyes in the kitchen. He had been doing that almost every evening when he came to visit you after work, and such visits had not been scarce either.

At this rate, the neighbors are really going to think he is living here.

“That smells good,” Satoru whispered in your ear, one of his arms already wrapping around your waist.

“You are just looking for a free meal.” You laughed and looked at him. “Why don’t you set the table?”

He nodded and was quick to leave your side to do as requested.

As you sat to eat together, you could not help but smile at how domestic it felt to have Satoru dinning with you any other night, even if he would sometimes leave for work or to sleep at his own place, it felt as if he was installing himself in your life more intimately.

You both talked about your day, your students, and overall, what you would be up to the following day. However, Satoru had left out his conversation with Shoko form earlier. As much as he wanted to know the details of what happened with the Zen'ins and ask why you had not said a word to him about it, he did not want to push for an explanation yet.

Maybe you had been coerced into not talking about it, or maybe you were trying to keep everything still given that the child Satoru (often with your help) was kind of looking after was also related to the Zen'in clan, and that had created discord between them and the Gojo families in the past.

The more Satoru thought about it, the more it appeared to him that the Zen'ins were trying to bug him with the idea of a marriage. He had always considered you family after all, and of course he would never allow his family to fall into a Zen'in’s claws.

***

It was unfair.

It was unfair how good Satoru looked after a shower.

He had taken a quick shower after dinner and changed into the spare clothes he kept at your place.

You were sitting in the living room trying to watch TV, but the man that had just walked in and taken his seat next to you was distracting.

“Like what you see?” he asked without looking at you as he browsed the channels on your TV.

When had he grabbed the remote? And why had you not realized you were staring at him?

“I… Don’t be ridiculous.” You turned your reddened face away from him and stood up. “I’m taking a shower.”

Satoru smiled as he watched you march away. He knew he was good-looking as a fact, but what he truly enjoyed was having that effect on you. It was only fair in his opinion; after all, you had the same effect on him.

Satoru looked at the screen in front of him but did not feel like watching anything, so he turned it off and walked to your room.

He heard the water running when he passed by the bathroom door, and he assumed you were still in there, so he went right to your bed. He sat down and that was when he noticed the drawer of your bedside table had not been closed properly.

He had no intention of snooping, but the cover of the book inside caught his eye, so he took it.

Pride and Prejudice.

Satoru observed it. It was a used copy but in pretty good shaped. His first thought was that you must have obtained it from a secondhand store.

Why would they put the book in the drawer and not on the shelf with the rest of their collection, though?

Satoru knew you read a little bit of everything, but he did not know you were a fan of romance, let alone of Austen, but he would not have teased you for it... Or maybe just a little.

He opened the book on the first page and the hand-written dedication under the novel’s name seemed to answer his question as it read:

"My affections and wishes are unchanged." – I.H.

Satoru immediately knew whom those initials belonged to.

He closed the book and threw it back into your drawer as fast as if it had burned him.

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

Note: This part was initially going to be longer, but at some point, it got divided into two parts. Oh, well... I should get a breather for a couple weeks now that the semester is over, so hopefully I can upload that not too far away in the future.

Thanks for reading!

Next: Part XXI

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski @rosellerinfrost @catowru @bi-narystars

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Because of my brain's fucked up chemistry, I bring you bilibili's most hilarious (sarcasm) ploy. This is one of my favorite official artwork. The palette is simple and our beloved characters seem to have fun!

🙂‍↔️ Don't be fooled.

I'll start with the obvious, as always: red stains and apple knives. The pictures are telling enough.

Then we have the number 8. Which, I have my theories on, but nothing significant enough to make a whole post about it yet.

Let's start with the 8 of hearts. If you look carefully, you'll notice there are exactly 8 chandelier arms. 8 strawberries are visible on each cake (one is missing two parts and the other one is partly behind a shadow who must be Li Tianchen). Lastly, but Im not entirely sure of myself here, you can probably count 8 wine glasses (they are rounder than others).

Crossed theory: the missing pieces of the cakes are exactly between IV and VI of a clock. V is hinted yet again 🤌✨ but there are two cakes... making cakes... Yep, you guessed it: one entire Curve, as described in Rick and Morty:

The curve basically walls off the infinite number of universes, in which INSERT IMPORTANT CANONICAL NODE happens, from the rest of the infinite multiverse. A model often used to explain is that the definition of the Central Finite Curve has no set parameters; it's just wholly random and infinite therefore can be represented as a repeating, immeasurable shape modeled with a circle. The Central Finite Curve would then present a finite collection of dimensions.

(Gosh, I do have a lot of meta planned for this show, kill me now // Edit: DONE)

STEPPING AWAY FROM THE LYING CAKE-

For archives purpose, I'll just point out that two Aces of Hearts probably means there are two of the same while there should be one. I don't know if this was a clue already or yet to be resolved. They're both near a candle, a glass and a bottle. It gives the whole table an odd symmetry. Like a mirror you cannot see the frames of. The 8 on cards are also symmetrical + the placement is repeated with both chandeliers. The symmetry of the table implies there is a fourth cake off-screen.

There is one mistake though, I don't know if it was made on purpose or not: none of the hearts are upside down. The 8 of hearts is wrong: there is supposed to be symmetry on the card itself!

Since we already got a tarot reading in the chibisodes, here we go: (a quick google research for this one)

"In divinatory tarot, it could be a mix between the Lovers and the World. Indeed, the ace of hearts relates to the World as it represents the triumph of the individual on the elements that surround him. It also relates to the Lovers thanks to its romantic attributes and consequences."

- latincards

THE DARKER SIDE OF THE ACE OF HEARTS MEANINGS: EXPLORING CONTRASTING While predominantly seen as a symbol of love and positivity, the Ace of Hearts can also have darker or more complex meanings. In some interpretations, it might signify heartbreak, emotional manipulation, or unrequited love. This aspect reminds us that the heart's journey is not always smooth and that love can sometimes lead to challenging or transformative experiences.

- thedopeart

(Sidenote: You should be aware that the LOVERS doesn't exclusively concern romantic aspects of life in our modern world, but life partners in the general sense, people deeply tied to you.)

As for the 8 of Hearts:

The Eight of Hearts is often associated with emotions, love, and relationships. It signifies deep connections, harmony, and positive energy in matters of the heart. When this card appears in a reading, it suggests that love and emotional fulfillment are on the horizon. This card is a symbol of balance and stability in relationships. It indicates that there is a strong foundation of trust and understanding between partners.

Hearts are a recurrent shape used in Qiao Ling's artworks but I'll make another post for shapes/characters related stuff.

For the record, Cheng Xiaoshi isn't drinking red wine on the Halloween poster. Doesn't know where this is going but I've done my share of meta for today 🙂‍↕️

>>> In conclusion,

RED is the real clue here. May it be to indicate the presence of Li Tianchen or VEIN. The same shade of red is all we see, as if a filter was used, and since Li Tianchen's eyes glow red, I guess it's related somehow (metaphorically speaking). The fact everything is the same color was also designed to trick us about the blood on the knife. The aces could be CXS and LG... or LG and Liu Xiao (he seems to be obsessed with him so why not.) In any case, I do see a paradox hidden in plain sight here.

The cards are there as a positive outlook: they are together in this, their friendship is what will thrive on the dark side of the clock! It encourages them to open themselves to others and trust their bond.

[oprahwinfreyjrjr]

24 unanswered Frenchie and Kimiko questions

What would have happened if Little Nina hadn’t kidnapped Frenchie? We saw those secret smiles on Kimiko and Frenchie’s faces. I want to see the conversation that happened when he came back from his quiet freak out at the coffee machine.

Why did Frenchie leave after Kimiko kissed him? Was he overwhelmed? Scared? Did he not feel that way at the time?

How the hell did they get back to the office after escaping Nina? Frenchie was butt naked and in rough shape. Kimiko was in a hospital gown, covered in blood. Cherie was not much better. That must have been an interesting Uber ride.

What is Frenchie’s famous cassoulet recipe?

In season 1, they are running for their lives, hiding from Vought in this safe house. At what point was Frenchie like, “Ah yes, this is the perfect time to bake madeleines with this feral girl. Add eggs, flour, and butter to the supplies list.”?

In a bonus scene is Season 2, Frenchie tells Cherie that he would never sleep with Kimiko. Was he lying to her? Or lying to himself?

When exactly did Kimiko figure out what “mon coeur” means?

He still looks totally cute but I would like to understand the reasoning behind Frenchie’s very elaborate, kitten whisker-y facial hair in Season 4. Choices were made!

Speaking of, he spent a not insignificant amount of time in prison. Why does he look so hot and perfectly groomed? When Butcher sprang him from prison, did he let Frenchie stop by his apartment to do a line up before his reunion with Kimiko?

Are Frenchie and Kimiko roommates? If they are roommates I want a whole season of domestic scenes with these two.

Do they share clothes?

Does Cherie come over to hang out? I’ve always been curious about how Kimiko feels about her.

When they came to M.M.’s apartment after escaping Nina, did they stop by Costco to pick up a bottle of Kirkland Signature whiskey or did they already own it?

When exactly did they fall for each other? And when did they each come to the realization that they were in love with the other? I feel like we were a tiny bit cheated out of some scenes of unrequited sexual tension because Eric Kripke dragged his feet about these two getting together for too long. (And my theory is up until the beginning of this season, he only caved because the chemistry was undeniable and the fans wanted it.)

Did Kimiko really sleep with the Jitterbean barista or was she just overcompensating?

How does Frenchie know the signs for “penis” and “vagina?” I can’t see Kimiko needing to use those words with her brother. So did she and Frenchie create those signs together? And how did it come up in the first place???

Frenchie was totally in a throuple with Cherie and Jay, right?

Will Frenchie now act extra territorial around Kimiko when they get coffee? He doesn’t strike me as a jealous guy but I could see him making an exception for her.

Will Frenchie take Compound V?

After he sawed off Kimiko’s leg, did he spend the rest of the day carrying her around while she healed?

What happened to Frenchie’s mother? How did he escape his father?

Why does Frenchie know so much about bombs and bioweapons?

How did he end up moving to The States? How did he become friends with Cherie and Jay? I feel like I could watch multiple seasons of a Frenchie prequel.

How is Kimiko going to get out of prison? How will she rescue Frenchie? And how will he react when he finally hears her voice?

[room-of-lies]

safamapiley dump ples. for the soul

THANK YOU FOR ENABLING ME, YOU WILL REGRET IT!

what I'm about to ramble about is majorly based on me and my friends' interpretations, theories and headcanons of these characters and how I imagine they're hypothetical relationship would pan out under the conditions we're presented with in-game! To put it shortly—I don't rly care about canon accuracy or if any of the relationship potential would be somehow ruined by the new chapter coming out, I'm having fun :3

With that little disclaimer outta the way, HI.

Why do I see potential in safamapiley as a polycule?

Well let's start with the fact Maple is a character who's narrative largely revolves around love. The love program is the only thing keeping her from killing Hiyori who well. didn't exactly treat her Well.. Alongside this, Emiri is another character with an implied tragic love life! In ch 3 dialog it's revealed she previously had a fiancé who went mad (I could go on all day about my thoughts on this specific thing and how I imagine their relationship went down but that's a tangent for another day) so it's safe to say either through death or divorce, he is no longer in her life as now she is dedicated to asunaro. Where things differ slightly is with Michiru, while not directly related to something involving relationships, was implied to be easy to convince to join asunaro, essentially having nothing to lose and everything to gain. Implied to be lonely, easy to convince to join something as shady as asunaro.. with those outlooks on life, you have 3 lonely, fucked up women who could all make each other sooooo much worse <3

It's stated that Hiyori considers Emiri to be scary, this line of thinking kinda made me wonder what she might have done to give him this opinion but I like to think she just sorta. hates him honestly! and with this, Maple essentially being doomed to love someone who would never love her back would honestly make Emiri pity her, perhaps even resent Hiyori for his treatment of her since. as someone who was once in love and lost it, seeing someones heart toyed with in this way is rage inducing AND . This is a weaker point but in the sillier media like the anthology comics shes shown to act uncharacteristically sweet to someone like shin… who ppl often draw parallels to maple :3

This brings us to the even more tragic side of things, in particular: Michiru’s involvement in creating technology and her associations with the ais such as rio (and ai-ceiver) with this association, it’s not too far of a stretch to think perhaps she helped in part to create or maintain Maple! Therefore knowingly allowing something she considered living continue to suffer under an unrequited love she had no choice in feeling… and while Michiru can be cruel, we see in the memory machine game end she’ll gladly allow someone to sacrifice their sound mind for her—she IS remorseful! So. Queue her being a bystander, this beautiful killing machine deluded with something she can never have all for the sake of HER company’s game… all in the name of keeping hiyori alive. I love yuri that hurts what can I say <3

A similar sentiment could be drawn to Emiri, though her associations with technology are more focused on the puzzles, executions and death traps (if we consider the silly 4KOMA) and her association with the ais is less of a factor… the most we can see about her thoughts on whether the ais are alive would be how she commands the wrigglers around like they’re her henchmen or attack dogs ehehe…

All this is to say:

there is a genuine argument to be made that both michiru and emiri would be sympathetic to maple, maple might even be appreciated company in asunaro because she’s not a floormaster like them, not a researcher—something almost not associated with asunaros dealings, merely a cog unknowingly turning… on the flip side of this, I think Michiru and emiri would have a much more antagonistic dynamic if you take the fact they were brought into the company under much different circumstances.. that’s not to say they can’t be good company for one another. Emiri would initially see michiru as an easy target, only to possibly unearth her more twisted nature under her emotional guise… as well as Michiru recognising the desperation within Emiri as someone possibly Wanting To Forget Something Terrible That May Have Happened With her Fiancé <3 it’s normal to possibly want to experiment on another woman, only leaving her happy memories, no? I mean, she has nothing left to lose. Much like Michiru herself ^^ two sides of a horrible little coin!

As for scenarios involving all three I particularly enjoy:

Maple still in love program in pre-canon, not understanding the joy she feels when talking with the other two but still trying to get close to them (the guys of asunaro are sooo boring when it comes to what she’s interested in talking abt… at least the women will indulge her and not run off like hiyori). Michiru stewing in guilt every time she talks to maple, wanting to find some way around the love program, while trying to not have a nervous breakdown over emiris incessant teasing and Emiri resigning herself to her fate to never being able to truly get close to Maple, so she may as well enjoy their company (not without a little discomfort at Any mention of His name) as well as teasing Michiru as unlike maple, she Is able to understand her emotions as well as just loving to watch her squirm and possibly lift that miserable little mask of hers to show how truly deranged she is <3

A post canon scenario where Maple gets repaired, slowly having to heal while mourning love that was never within her control while Michiru and Emiri sort of feel conflicted as to how to approach being romantic with her considering how much hiyori effected her... also it takes a while to repair her body so she's monitor-bound for a good while. Emiri is more open to trying to give maple a better example of a relationship (out of spite almost. lmao) but considering she is the way she is.. her attempts are a bit clumsy and sometimes do more bad than good.. while Michiru is more focused on giving Maple the chance to explore outside the facility once her body is repaired, though she worries over her experiencing how harsh the outside world can be (ironic because she literally lived in the DEATH game facility but u get my point) and also emiri and michiru are butting heads over this the entire time while picking up the pieces of what remains of asunaro. this may or may not be the silly little post-game au I've been cooking in my brain for a while now. dw abt it

I feel bad for having gone on so long so I'll cut it here, apawlogies for yapping so much i'm not. normal <3 thank you again for allowing me to be insane for a bit :D

[ghouljams]

Hi, Ghoul. Apologies for kinda venting (?) on your asks, and please ignore this if you'd like, but how does one cope with the idea (and, quite possibly, reality) of being alone for the rest of their life?

I've never been the most confident individual in my years of being alive. I'm not conventionally attractive, and I've been battling with my perception of self for like, basically my entire life. Never really had romantic relationships, other than unrequited and secret crushes. At first, I thought to myself that I could deal with being alone and unloved in that way, but I figured as I grew older that maybe I'm just trying to be tough about it. I want to have the kind of love that other people have, envious as I may sound. I want to be able to look at myself and think, "wow, despite my flaws, someone still took the risk to get to know me and chose to stay."

Of course, this is not to say that the love my tight-knit circle of friends and family aren't adequate. I'm just curious. And hopeful that someday I get to have that other kind of love.

That said, I really love your works and I am privileged to be able to read them :)) it's always such a delight to see your rambles and reblogs in my dash. <3 Hope everything is going well for you.

Hello my love. You already know I'm going to suggest therapy so I'm going to get that out of the way early.

Here's the meat of it. There are thousands upon millions of people who feel exactly the same way you do and I truly believe this is because of the way western society has structured its media/propaganda. So much of the media we consume is loaded with this idea that romantic love is this totally different thing that will complete your life and show you how worthy you are if only you can find it.

This is a load of horse shit.

One of the unhappiest times of my life was spent in my first relationship. I actually had a harder time loving myself because I was scrambling to prove I was worth being loved by a person who liked me in theory but in practice frequently flaked on dates and didn't care about my emotional wellbeing.

I say all of that because I had your same attitude of "despite my flaws they're choosing to stay with me" and ultimately she left me. Over text. It was a whole thing.

So many of you talk about being "old" and "destined to be alone" and you're like 25. Hell even if you're 50, people find love at any age, but the only way to find anyone good is to be comfortable with the fact that romantic love isn't the end all be all of love. You can fall in love with anyone, that doesn't make it a good relationship. It just means you're in love.

Also what do you mean "someone took the risk?" Are you a serial killer? Do you set fire to police cars? You sell meth? What risk do you pose to anyone? You're sad and have low self esteem. So what? That makes you a risky prospect? Your flaws of *checks notes* talking down about yourself is such a huge hurdle that it's a grave danger to anyone that wants to date you?

And I'm sorry I feel like I'm getting sort of mean but you got me in older sibling mode with this and so you're getting big sister shit.

I just- like if you truly believe that you are such a burden to date then you aren't going to get what you want out of a relationship. You'll become obsessed with the first person that reciprocates your affections and it will spiral into something that hurts you. I am speaking from experience.

My dear, i am a stranger on the internet, and I love you. This world is cruel towards tender hearts and disappointment hides in every corner, but we keep loving the world and the people in it anyway. Love finds us when we least expect it, and if you truly want that sort of love it will come to you.

But I need you to be kinder to yourself. I know you said you struggle with self image. Stop measuring yourself against other people. Stop setting up goal posts for your life. Stop thinking your flaws make you some undateable ghoul. They make you, you, and whoever you date will love you for them not in spite of them.

[jiminsass-istant]

In response to your Who mv analysis:

"Which basically means jimin going through different people is a thing of the past"

I thought it's an "established knowledge" among most Jikookers that Jimin fell for JK since the very beginning days like in 2013 or 2014, so when did Jimin go through different people? And why, since he was already madly in love with JK?

Linking my MV analysis first for those who want to read:

Like I said..my MV analysis was not to validate any ship. You are right though, most jikookers have a timeline:

"Jimin falling first in 2013, JK crushing back on him by 2015 (by that time Jimin was not that bold), then them getting together in 2017 finally."

But isn't that all speculation at the end of the day?

Read on to find why MUSE album is not about Jimin's 'personal life':

Jimin clearly said that the album is about feeling inspired, feeling excited. 'MUSE' is something/someone that inspires and excites you to make art. The album is centered around finding inspiration. Love comes in all forms- love for art/love for a person. 'Who' in a romantic sense is about finding love, but as clearly mentioned in a few articles about the album, MUSE album is the result of Jimin trying to find inspiration. It translates to Jimin doing the type of music he likes, experimenting- from a marching band like song to slow rnb/pop, afrobeats to 2000s pop main track, the range is huge here.

So in the MV, Jimin going through different people doesn't literally mean he was going through them in real life. It's the "story" of him trying to find inspiration and searching for what his heart wants. But in the end he kinda fails (it still doesn't mean that he 'fails' to find inspiration). Not everything has to have a start and end, or absolute explanation. Things are pretty open ended here.

Even if you relate the MV's story to his personal life, just remember what he said-

And your ask is exactly the type of misinterpretation he is talking about, lol. He clearly told RM that he hasn't felt the feeling of 'excitement' of a 'crush' or 'unrequited love' for a long time and in the album it seems like he's describing feelings of finding someone new that would bring out those feelings. Does this mean he is lying to RM? No. This album is him embodying these feelings. Similar to what JK said for Golden : "the lyrics are not autobiographical". He didn't have to clarify that, but he still did.

Which basically means that Jimin is neither single nor is he in any type of 'new love'. Which leaves one option - he is in a long term relationship.

While FACE was personal- about losing people, betrayal, loneliness, depression, and getting back stronger; MUSE is a conceptual album. A concept should be taken at face value, without relating it to life of the artist. Jimin knows about the interpretations that fans made for FACE and he never commented on them, because he openly had said that the lyrics are to be taken for what they are. It's the most he could reveal without being too detailed. But now that he knows his fans, he expects them to make theories about his personal life like we did with FACE. Only this time, like he said, we are most likely to misunderstand.

Thanks for the ask anon, come back again. As for Jikook, they will keep jikooking.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

The Tattoo | Sebastian Sallow x OC #46

Summary: Studying for their N.E.W.Ts gets boring, and Sebastian drags Ominis and Evie along to London for an ‘outing’

Words: ~5,200

Tags: Coming of Age, Friendship, Banter, Sentimental, Not-Quite-Dating, Will They Won't They, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Unspoken Feelings, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers

Timeline: Mid May

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The air in the Undercroft was thick with the hum of concentrated magic and the faint rustle of parchment. The three of them—Evangeline, Sebastian, and Ominis—were seated around the table, the only sounds punctuating the stillness being the occasional scrape of quill against parchment or the soft muttering of incantations. It was late, far later than they should have been awake, but the impending weight of their N.E.W.T.s left little room for indulgent rest.

Evangeline shifted in her chair, absently twirling her wand between her fingers. Her notes were sprawled out in front of her, filled with neat annotations in her precise handwriting. Despite her best efforts, the words had begun to blur together, and every spell diagram seemed to mock her dwindling focus. Across from her, Ominis sat with his wand resting lightly against a sheet of parchment, his expression impassive as he methodically worked through a series of incantations.

And then there was Sebastian.

As usual, he was the picture of restless energy, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table. His quill spun lazily between his fingers, untouched parchment resting on his lap as he gazed at the ceiling, clearly miles away from the Transfiguration notes he was supposed to be writing. He hadn’t spoken in a while, his silence unusual enough to draw Evangeline’s attention. She studied him from the corner of her eye, noting the way his brow furrowed, as though he were mulling something over.

The quiet stretched, pressing against the edges of Evangeline’s patience. Finally, she set her quill down with a sigh. “Alright, out with it,” she said, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Whatever’s got you so preoccupied, Sebastian, just spit it out.”

Ominis didn’t look up from his work, but his lips twitched in faint amusement. “Thank Merlin,” he muttered. “I was starting to wonder how long we’d have to endure his brooding.”

Sebastian’s head snapped down, a crooked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Brooding, was I?” he drawled, his tone feigning offense. “I prefer to call it ‘pondering.’”

“Call it whatever you like,” Evangeline replied, arching an eyebrow. “Just stop making that face and tell us what’s on your mind.”

Sebastian hesitated for only a moment before his grin widened, a glint of mischief sparking in his eyes. “I think we need a break.”

“A break?” Ominis repeated flatly, finally lifting his head. “We’ve barely scratched the surface of today’s work, and you’re already suggesting we abandon it?”

“I’m not suggesting we abandon anything,” Sebastian countered, sitting up straight and tossing his quill onto the table. “I’m suggesting we take a couple measly hours to do something fun. Something that doesn’t involve spell charts or charm theory.”

Evangeline folded her arms, skeptical. “And what exactly did you have in mind?”

“A quick outing,” Sebastian said breezily. “We’ll be back before anyone even notices we’re gone.”

Ominis groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin’s sake, Sebastian. It’s mid-May, our N.E.W.T.s are in less than a month. What could possibly justify a vague 'outing'?”

Sebastian’s grin turned secretive, his eyes darting between the two of them. “I have my reasons,” he said cryptically. “But I’m not telling you until we get there.”

“That’s reassuring,” Ominis deadpanned.

“Relax, it’ll be worth it,” he replied, leaning forward with that familiar, reckless glint in his eye—the one that always spelled trouble. “Come on, Evie. You’re not going to let Ominis talk you out of an adventure, are you?”

Evangeline hesitated, torn between the looming specter of her unfinished notes and the enticing promise of whatever scheme Sebastian was cooking up. She glanced at Ominis, who sighed heavily, clearly resigned to his role as the voice of reason.

“If I agree,” Ominis said at last, his tone begrudging, “it’s only because I know you’ll drag us along regardless.”

Sebastian clapped his hands together, triumphant. “That’s the spirit! Pack your things, then.”

Evangeline balked at him. "You want to go now?!"

Sebastian grinned as though her exclamation had been a ringing endorsement. “Of course, now! What better time than the present?”

Ominis sighed dramatically, setting his wand down with a faint clink. “Sebastian, if this is another harebrained scheme, I swear—”

“It’s not harebrained,” Sebastian interrupted, lifting a hand as though warding off the insult. “It’s well thought out. I promise. Now come on."

Sebastian turned on his heel and strode toward the exit of the Undercroft, his long strides brimming with purpose. Evangeline and Ominis exchanged a look—hers laced with resignation, his with exasperation—but neither made any move to stop him.

Evangeline sighed, shaking her head as she stood. “If this ends with us in the Hospital Wing, I'll hex you,” she called after him, her voice echoing off the walls.

“You’ll thank me later,” Sebastian shot back, his voice carrying over his shoulder. “Just trust me!”

“Famous last words,” Ominis muttered, standing reluctantly and grabbing his wand. “You realize he’s probably going to drag us halfway across the countryside for this?”

“Realize it?” Evangeline snorted, following after Sebastian. “I’m counting on it.”

The three of them emerged from the Undercroft, stepping into the cool night air of the castle’s lower corridors. The faint glow of torchlight illuminated their path, casting flickering shadows as Sebastian led them with unwavering confidence. Evangeline quickened her pace to catch up, her irritation warring with a flicker of curiosity.

Ominis followed a step behind them, his wand outstretched. “Sebastian, if this involves sneaking into the Forbidden Forest again—”

“It doesn’t,” Sebastian interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “Have a little faith, Ominis.”

“I lost my faith in your plans somewhere around fifth year,” Ominis quipped, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Sebastian led them through the castle and out into the courtyard, the crisp May air carrying the scent of blooming flowers. The moon hung low in the sky, casting silvery light over the grounds, and the quiet of the evening was punctuated only by the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Evangeline slowed as they stepped into the open courtyard, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute,” she said, suspicion creeping into her tone. “Are we leaving the castle entirely?”

“You catch on quick,” Sebastian said, turning to face them with a triumphant grin.

Ominis stopped abruptly, his expression pinched. “Sebastian, no. We’re not—”

“Oh, yes, we are,” Sebastian interrupted, cutting him off with a waggle of his eyebrows. “I told you, it’s a quick trip. No big deal.”

“Are you mad?” Evangeline hissed, glancing nervously over her shoulder as though expecting a professor to materialize out of thin air. “Do you know how much trouble we’ll get in if we’re caught?”

Sebastian’s grin widened, and he stepped closer, holding out his hands to them. “Alright, grab on.”

Evangeline stared at him, incredulous. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, wiggling his fingers. “Grab on. We’re Apparating.”

Evangeline glanced at Ominis, whose expression had shifted from annoyed to downright skeptical. "Last time you apparated us we got lost."

Sebastian’s grin didn’t waver, but a flicker of mock offense crossed his face. “That was one time,” he said, holding up a finger. “And it wasn’t even my fault! The coordinates were off.”

Ominis folded his arms, his expression unimpressed. “You mean you were off.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically, looking to Evangeline for support. “Evie, back me up here. It wasn’t that bad.”

Evangeline arched a brow, recalling the harrowing ordeal of wandering through a bog after Sebastian’s “perfect shortcut” landed them somewhere decidedly not Keenbridge. “We had to fend off dugbogs for an hour, Sebastian. An hour.”

“Details,” Sebastian replied, waving her words away as though they were irrelevant. “This time will be different. I promise.”

Ominis groaned, rubbing his temples as though preparing for a migraine. “Merlin help me, I’m doing this under protest.”

“Duly noted,” Sebastian said cheerfully. He stepped closer, holding his hands out once again. “Come on.”

Evangeline sighed, her stomach tightening with nerves. “If we end up in another swamp…”

“You won’t,” Sebastian interjected quickly, flashing her an encouraging smile. “Trust me.”

She hesitated for a moment longer before finally giving in, her fingers curling around his. The warmth of his hand was steadying, even as she braced herself for whatever chaos might follow.

Ominis grudgingly did the same, his fingers tightening on Sebastian’s other hand with a grip that seemed to say, If we die, it’s your fault.

“Alright,” Sebastian said, his voice brimming with excitement. “Hold on tight. And try not to scream this time, Ominis.”

“I didn’t scream,” Ominis snapped, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Evangeline smirked, the memory of Ominis’s startled yelp during their last Apparition attempt making it difficult to suppress a laugh. Before she could tease him, the familiar, gut-twisting sensation of Apparition took hold.

The world spun violently, pulling her in every direction at once. The air compressed and stretched around them, her stomach churning as the rushing sensation built to a crescendo. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped.

They landed with a jarring thud, their feet hitting solid ground. Evangeline stumbled, instinctively clutching Sebastian’s arm to steady herself as the world slowly came back into focus.

They were in London.

The city buzzed with life around them, the streets lit by glowing streetlamps and shop windows. The distant rumble of a passing carriage mingled with the clatter of footsteps and the hum of conversations, creating a symphony of urban chaos.

“See?” Sebastian said, spreading his arms dramatically as if to say I told you so. “Perfect landing.”

Ominis straightened, his grip on his wand tightening as he sniffed the air. “At least it doesn’t smell like swamp this time.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face as she took in their surroundings. “Alright, we’re here. Now, are you going to tell us what this is all about?”

Sebastian grinned, his excitement bubbling over as he pointed toward a small shop. “We’re going there.”

Evangeline followed his gaze, her brow furrowing as she read the sign above the entrance: Enchanted Ink—Specialists in Magical Tattoos.

Her eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

Sebastian’s grin only widened, a mischievous glint in his eye as he shook his head. “Not at all. Dead serious.”

Ominis let out a long, exasperated sigh, his hand running through his hair in a gesture of disbelief. “Of course you’re serious. Why wouldn’t you be? Mid-May, N.E.W.T.s on the horizon, and you decide now is the perfect time for a tattoo.”

“Exactly!” Sebastian replied, as if Ominis had just proven his point. “It’s symbolic. A mark of everything we’ve been through.”

Ominis let out a soft, exasperated groan, running a hand down his face. “You truly have lost your mind. What on earth possessed you to think this was a good idea?”

“Because it is a good idea,” Sebastian said confidently, turning to face them both. “Look, we’re at the end of an era here. Our time at Hogwarts is almost up. This—” he gestured to the tattoo shop, “—this is my way of leaving a mark.."

Evangeline tilted her head, her skepticism softening slightly at his earnest tone. “And you’re sure this isn’t just an excuse for you to do something reckless?”

Sebastian smirked, though his eyes held a flicker of vulnerability that made her pause. “It’s not reckless if it means something.”

For a moment, Evangeline was silent, her gaze shifting between him and the sign above the shop door. There was a sincerity in his words that she couldn’t ignore—a quiet determination that hinted at something deeper than just a spur-of-the-moment whim.

Ominis, however, was far less moved. “If you think I’m standing by while someone needles magical ink into your skin, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“You’re not standing by,” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. “You’re coming in. Moral support and all that.”

Ominis crossed his arms, his expression unimpressed. “Absolutely not.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically, turning to Evangeline. “Evie, please tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

Evangeline bit back a smile. “He’s not wrong to be concerned. Tattoos are—well, they’re permanent, Sebastian. You’d better be sure about this.”

“I am,” Sebastian said, his voice firm. “I’ve been thinking about this for months. And I’ve already got the design in mind."

Evangeline’s skepticism wavered further, her curiosity getting the better of her. “What kind of design?”

"You'll see," Sebastian replied, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door. "Come on."

The bell above the door chimed softly as Sebastian pushed it open, the warm, slightly smoky interior of the tattoo shop greeting them. The walls were adorned with mesmerizing sketches of magical tattoos—designs that shimmered faintly, some enchanted to move and shift. A lion roared silently from one frame, its mane swirling like flames, while a constellation in another sketch blinked softly, stars winking in and out of existence.

Evangeline hesitated in the doorway, her eyes widening as she took in the intricate art. The air carried the faint scent of ink and something else—magic, raw and buzzing with potential. Ominis lingered behind her, his wand held lightly in one hand as though gauging the space.

“Welcome to Enchanted Ink,” a voice called out from behind the counter. A tall witch with striking auburn hair tied into a messy bun stepped forward, her arms covered in tattoos that seemed to ripple as she moved. She raised an eyebrow at the three of them, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “What can I do for you lot? One tattoo? Two? Or are we going for a group special?”

Sebastian grinned, stepping up to the counter with the confidence of someone who had just found his true calling. “Just one for now. I’ve got a design in mind.”

The witch leaned on the counter, her gaze flicking between him, Evangeline, and Ominis with amused curiosity. “What’s the occasion?"

“It’s a… commemoration, I suppose." Sebastian replied, his tone easy but with an underlying sincerity that Evangeline couldn't miss.

The witch tilted her head, studying him for a moment before nodding approvingly. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got in mind.”

Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. As he handed it over, Evangeline moved closer, her curiosity outweighing her hesitation. She blinked at the design, her surprise evident as she stepped closer for a better look. It was botanical in nature, with branches gracefully intertwined, their delicate leaves drawn with careful precision. It was not at all what she had expected from Sebastian.

The witch’s eyes lit up as she examined it. “Very nice, I can definitely work with that. Where are we putting it?”

Sebastian relaxed slightly at her easy response, his confidence returning. “I was thinking along my arm and shoulder."

The witch nodded, studying him thoughtfully. “Good choice. It’ll flow nicely there,” She glanced at Ominis and Evangeline. “What about you two? Getting matching ones?”

Evangeline startled slightly, caught off guard by the question. “Oh, no, I—”

“Absolutely not,” Ominis interrupted, his tone flat. “Someone has to stay sensible.”

The witch smirked. “Suit yourselves. Alright, let’s get started.”

She gestured for Sebastian to follow her toward a reclining chair in the corner, her wand flicking to summon the necessary supplies. As Sebastian pulled off his outer robe and rolled up his sleeve, Evangeline lingered nearby, her eyes flicking back to the sketch on the counter.

“Does it hurt much?” she asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

The witch, now preparing the ink and enchanted needle, glanced up with a grin. “It’s not painless, but it’s nothing unbearable."

Evangeline hummed thoughtfully, her eyes darting to Sebastian, who had already settled into the chair with an air of casual confidence, though she could see the faintest tension in his shoulders—the giveaway that he was bracing himself.

Ominis stood a few paces behind her, his expression a blend of disapproval and reluctant curiosity. “You do realize,” he said dryly, “that you’ll have to live with this for the rest of your life. No charms to undo it, no simple transfiguration. It’s permanent, Sebastian.”

“That’s the point,” Sebastian replied without missing a beat.

The tattoo artist waved her wand, and the her refined version of the sketch floated into the air, its enchanted lines shimmering faintly as they overlaid themselves on Sebastian’s arm. She tapped the air with her wand, adjusting the placement until Sebastian nodded in approval.

Then, the artist began her work, the enchanted needle moving deftly under her guidance. A faint, rhythmic hum filled the air, punctuated by the occasional buzz of magic as the ink bonded with Sebastian’s skin. He winced once, his jaw tightening for a moment before he relaxed again.

Evangeline leaned against the counter, watching with growing fascination. The design was taking shape, the lines and shading giving it an almost lifelike quality. Each leaf seemed to glow faintly with its own unique shimmer, the magic within it alive and shifting subtly as the branches intertwined.

“Wow,” she said softly, unable to keep the awe from her voice. “It’s beautiful.”

Sebastian glanced at her, his grin soft, touched with vulnerability. "You like it?"

Evangeline tilted her head, her gaze shifting between the intricate design and Sebastian’s face. “I do,” she said softly. “It’s… certainly not what I expected."

Sebastian chuckled, wincing slightly as the needle buzzed over a particularly sensitive spot. “What, did you think I’d get something ridiculous? A dragon breathing fire?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” she replied with a smirk. But her expression softened quickly as she gestured toward his arm. “What does it mean? The branches, the leaves…"

Sebastian’s grin faltered for a fraction of a second, and he glanced away, pretending to focus on the witch adjusting her tools. “It’s just… a reminder, I guess,” he said, his voice light but not quite convincing. “About roots and growth. The people who’ve kept me grounded. Who’ve helped me grow, despite everything.”

Evangeline blinked, her chest tightening unexpectedly. She looked at the leaves, her mind suddenly piecing together the meaning he was trying so hard to downplay. “Silver lime,” she murmured, tracing the delicate lines of the leaves with her eyes. “And elm.”

Sebastian nodded, his grin returning but softer now. “Yeah. Thought it was fitting.”

Her throat tightened as she processed his words, and she had to glance away for a moment to gather herself. When she looked back, her voice was quieter, more earnest. “Sebastian… that’s—”

“Don’t make a thing of it,” he interrupted, and shot her a crooked grin, his usual charm flickering back into place.

Evangeline’s lips parted, but the words she wanted to say caught in her throat. The weight of his gesture—of what it truly meant—wasn’t something she could brush off as easily as he did. Her gaze lingered on the design taking shape on his arm, the branches curling together in intricate patterns. Silver lime for her wand. Elm for Ominis's. The two people who had stayed by his side through everything. The thought made her chest ache with an almost unbearable mixture of gratitude and affection.

After some time, the tattoo artist leaned back, her wand flicking over Sebastian’s arm as she muttered a final incantation. A soft shimmer of magic passed over the fresh ink, sealing it with a protective charm. The branches and leaves gleamed faintly in the light, vibrant against the warm tones of his skin. “All done,” the artist said with a satisfied nod, stepping aside to let Sebastian admire her work. “Take a look.”

Sebastian stood, rolling his shoulder as he turned to the mirror. His arm tilted slightly, the tattoo catching the light with its intricate detailing. The branches, woven seamlessly with delicate leaves, seemed almost alive, as if swaying in an unseen breeze. The design complemented him in a way that felt undeniable, the ink enhancing rather than covering the faint freckles scattered across his skin. It was as if the tattoo had always been meant for him, a part of him waiting to be revealed.

“It’s perfect,” he said softly, the words almost an exhale as he traced the edge of the tattoo with his fingers, the awe in his voice impossible to miss.

Evangeline couldn’t take her eyes off him, her eyes lingering on the design, tracing every line, every leaf with careful reverence. “It really is,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The tattoo was beautiful—there was no denying that. But it wasn’t just the art that caught her breath. Somehow, the sight of it on Sebastian—on him—made him impossibly more attractive. Her fingers itched to reach out, to trace the lines of the tattoo herself, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath the ink. Somehow, it felt like the tattoo had made him more himself, like the balance of strength and vulnerability in the design had drawn out the same qualities in him. Because it wasn't just a design, it was a story... his story.

Sebastian caught her reflection in the mirror, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Told you it wasn’t a bad idea.”

She hummed in agreement, though her mind was already drifting elsewhere. The thought had crept in unbidden—a flicker of curiosity, a spark of possibility. Her gaze flicked to her own wrist, bare and pale, and she wondered… what would her story look like?

Her life had been a patchwork of beginnings and endings, each one stitched together with uncertainty and change. Growing up in the orphanage, she had lived every day in a state of waiting—waiting for answers, waiting for belonging, waiting for something more.

And then, at fifteen, everything changed.

Hogwarts had been a whirlwind, sweeping her into a life she’d never imagined, a world she hadn’t known she could belong to. Magic had opened doors she hadn’t known existed, but it wasn’t the magic itself that had made her life rich. It was the people.

Sebastian and Ominis had been constants from the very beginning. They had embraced her when she was wide-eyed and overwhelmed, navigating a maze of spells and traditions she barely understood. They had been there through everything—the good, the bad, the unspeakable. They were the family she’d never had, the threads that held her patchwork life together.

Her fingers brushed over her wrist, the idea taking shape in her mind.

“What if I got one too?”

The room fell silent. Ominis, who had been leaning casually against the doorframe with a skeptical expression, straightened immediately. “You’re joking,” he said flatly, his tone caught somewhere between disbelief and exasperation.

Sebastian turned away from the mirror, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Really?”

She hesitated, suddenly aware of their attention on her, but the spark of determination refused to fade. She crossed her arms, her chin tilting slightly. “Why not? If you can leave a mark for what matters, why can’t I?”

Sebastian’s surprise softened into something warmer, and he stepped closer, his curiosity clear. “What would you get?”

Evangeline bit her lip. “Would you mind if… mine matched yours? Not exactly the same, but similar. Cedar for you,” she said, her hazel eyes flicking to Sebastian, her tone soft yet meaningful. Then, turning to Ominis, who looked thoroughly unimpressed but still curious despite himself, she added, “And elm, for you.”

Sebastian blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A grin slowly spread across his face, warm and unguarded. “You’d do that?”

“Why not?” she replied, her lips curving into a small, shy smile.

Ominis, who had been standing with his arms crossed, let out a faint scoff, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward in reluctant amusement. “You’re both hopeless romantics, you realize that?”

“Hopeless?” Sebastian shot back, his grin turning sly. “Or perfectly sentimental?”

“Hopeless,” Ominis deadpanned, though the faintest hint of fondness lingered in his voice.

Evangeline laughed softly, shaking her head as she turned to the tattoo artist. “Is that alright? Something similar to his design, but... smaller, more simple. With cedar and elm?”

The artist, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused smile, nodded. “Of course. Let me sketch something out for you.”

She set to work, her wand tracing delicate lines over a fresh sheet of parchment. Meanwhile, Sebastian moved to stand beside Evangeline, his gaze flicking between her and the emerging design. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said softly, his tone unusually serious. “It’s... permanent.”

Evangeline turned her head to meet his eyes, a small, determined smile on her lips. “That’s the point,” she replied, echoing his earlier words with a teasing lift of her brow. “Some things are worth remembering."

Ominis let out a low groan, the kind that only came from years of being the unwilling observer of their antics. “You know,” he drawled, his voice dripping with dry humor, “if you two are so intent on making this a permanent declaration, why not just get each other’s names tattooed across your foreheads? That way, there’s never any mistaking or forgetting who the tattoos are about.”

Evangeline blinked, then let out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, come on. It’s not like that.”

Sebastian, smirked and gestured toward the parchment where the artist was working. "Last I checked, you were just as represented in this as I am, Ominis. Or did you forget your wand is made of elm?"

The tattoo artist cleared her throat gently, a small smile playing on her face as she set the completed sketch in front of Evangeline. “Here it is. What do you think?”

Evangeline studied the parchment closely, her fingers hovering just above its edge. The design was deceptively simple—a single branch, its offshoots bearing both elm leaves and cedar needles. The two were distinct yet harmonious, intertwined in a way that suggested unity without losing their individuality.

“It’s perfect,” she said softly. Her hazel eyes flicked up to the tattoo artist. “You captured it beautifully.”

The artist smiled warmly. “I’m glad you like it. The contrast between the leaves will stand out nicely. Ready to make it official?"

Evangeline nodded, a steady resolve in her expression as she stepped forward and settled into the chair. Meanwhile, the artist adjusted the tools, muttering a soft incantation to ensure precision. Sebastian leaned casually against the counter, his arms crossed, though his gaze was anything but indifferent. He watched her closely, the faint smile on his lips betraying his curiosity and pride.

“You’re really doing this,” he said, a touch of admiration in his voice.

Evangeline glanced at him, her smile unwavering. “I am."

Sebastian’s grin widened, though there was a warmth in his eyes that made her stomach flutter. “Well,” he said lightly, “I hope yours turns out as good as mine. Wouldn’t want you to regret it.”

“I won’t,” she said simply.

As the first cool touch of the needle against her skin, Evangeline’s breath hitched, but she quickly relaxed, letting the soft rhythm of the artist’s work settle her nerves. She focused on the weight of the moment—what this meant to her, what it represented.

Sebastian leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but teasing. “Not too painful, is it?”

She turned her head just enough to shoot him a playful glare. “I’m tougher than I look, remember?”

Sebastian chuckled, the sound warm and low. “Oh, I remember.”

Ominis, not one to miss an opportunity, chimed in with dry amusement. “Let’s see if that toughness holds when the charm wears off. No amount of sentimentality will dull the sting of regret tomorrow morning.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her smile never wavered. “Thank you for your unwavering support, Ominis."

Minutes passed in easy, playful banter, but when the tattoo artist leaned back and murmured a final incantation, the room grew quieter. She smiled at her work, the protective charm shimmering briefly before fading. “All done,” she said warmly. “Take a look.”

Evangeline sat up slowly, her gaze falling to her wrist, and her breath caught. The design was everything she had imagined and more. The lines were crisp and elegant, the magic within the tattoo added an almost ethereal quality. As she turned her wrist, the leaves seemed to sway gently, bringing the design to life in a subtle, mesmerizing way.

“Wow…” she murmured, her voice filled with quiet awe. “It’s stunning. Thank you.” She glanced up at the tattoo artist, her smile wide and genuine.

The artist smiled back, clearly pleased with the reaction. “You’re welcome. It suits you."

Ominis let out a dramatic sigh, his arms still crossed but his tone tinged with reluctant amusement. “Well, congratulations, Evangeline. You’ve officially joined the ranks of the permanently sentimental.”

Sebastian snorted at Ominis’ dramatic tone, his grin widening. “Don’t be so bitter, Ominis. If anything, you should be proud.”

Ominis raised a brow, his lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smirk. Proud? I've been immortalized as a tree. Truly, my legacy knows no bounds.”

Evangeline laughed, glancing at him as she slid out of the chair. "You should just be happy you were immortalized at all."

Sebastian chuckled, reaching into his pocket to pay for both tattoos, ignoring Evangeline’s protest as she fished for her own coins. “Don’t start,” he said with a grin, holding up a hand to stop her. “Consider it my contribution to this little moment of solidarity.”

“Sebastian, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t,” he interrupted, his grin softening into something warmer. “But I want to.”

Evangeline hesitated, then relented with a small, grateful smile. “Thank you."

The tattoo artist handed them both a small vial of salve. “Apply this once a day for the first week,” she instructed. “It’ll keep the enchantment strong and prevent irritation. Enjoy your tattoos.”

Sebastian pocketed his vial with a nod. “Will do. Thanks again.”

As the three of them made their way out of the shop, the cool evening air greeted them. Ominis, ever the pragmatic one, let out a sigh of relief. “Now that this grand adventure is over, perhaps we can finally get back to the castle and finish studying. You know, the reason we’re still awake at this hour?”

Sebastian smirked, nudging Ominis lightly with his elbow. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little impressed.”

Ominis tilted his head toward Sebastian, his sightless gaze sharp despite the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Impressed that you managed to sit still long enough to get a tattoo? I’ll admit, it’s an achievement.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t falter.

They walked a few more steps before Ominis stopped, turning toward Evangeline. “Let me see it,” he said simply, extending a hand.

Evangeline blinked, surprised, but she held out her wrist. Ominis ran his thumb gently over the design, his touch deliberate and careful. The enchanted leaves shifted slightly under his touch, and his expression softened, though he quickly masked it. “Elegant but unassuming,” he said quietly, almost begrudgingly. “I suppose it’s… fitting.”

Evangeline smiled, warmth spreading in her chest at the rare, genuine compliment. “Thanks, Ominis.”

Sebastian grinned, crossing his arms. “See? He likes it. He just won’t admit it.”

Ominis straightened, his familiar exasperated expression returning. “I said it was fitting, not that I like it. Let’s not get carried away.”

Evangeline laughed softly, shaking her head as they continued walking. The warmth of the moment lingered as they reached for Sebastian's hands to apparate back to the castle. Ominis may have protested, but the way he had traced the design on her wrist said more than his words ever could.

And as Evangeline glanced at Sebastian, catching the way his grin softened when his eyes met hers, she knew this was a memory she’d carry with her—not just on her skin, but in her heart.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

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[how-very-superbat]

Do you have any recs for unrequited superbat? /nf

Okay so I'm like super sorry but I don't really read unrequited fics because they will just make me cry, but I have some "not actually unrequited love" fics which I will share instead :/

love will abide by TheResurrectionist (2k) Bruce’s ribs were broken. This is the closest one I have found for your prompt. Friends with benefits, anyone?

B-theory of Time by by Dokkaebi King (42k) It was never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to be here.  Despite all the plans he concocted, all the contingencies he committed to memory, Bruce could have never been prepared for this. What had started out as a Christmas party he'd been tricked into attending, and a night where he'd believed the hardest thing he'd have to deal with was Shayera killing Wally over Mario Kart, turned into an abundance of moments where Clark backed him into a verbal corner and made his heart want things it couldn't have. Oh yeah, and then there was the time travel. An attack by renegade, sentient light later, and Batman found himself on Krypton. Then in Jor-El's custody. And that somehow segued into him becoming a baby Kal-El's nanny by day, a man desperately trying to save Krypton by night. This was why Bruce Wayne hated Christmas.

I haven't read this one in a while but I remember it being super good and Bruce thinks his love is unrequited.

Padam Padam by frozenpotions (7k) Batman's heartbeat keeps speeding up whenever Clark is around. For instance: when Clark greets him, half-naked, on a Gotham rooftop. Or when he uses his superstrength to save a busload of schoolchildren. Or sometimes even just when he smiles. Clearly the poor man is terrified of him.

(I also recommend batman’s POV to this story, What a Tangled Web We Weave)

running backwards (is the only way forward) by soetry (8k) Bruce gets hit in battle, forgets everything about being Batman, and adopts the entire personality and characteristics of his idiotic playboy persona. To get his memories back, someone has to get rather intimate with him.  And really, Clark is the only one for the task.

I'm sorry I don't think these are exactly what your looking for, but I hope I helped a little!

Thinking about maybe posting another Lengthy Superbat Rec List, but I have so many other tropes lined up as well :,)

[allastoredeer]

Discussing fandom and its trends is one of my favorite things 🤓 I hope you don't mind me sharing some of the pseudotheories and pseudoanalyses I've seen before (to me they're all fun and I don't think they should be taken 100% seriously, please no one be offended)

1 The name of the boat that goes first is the favorite.

Quite funny in my opinion and from what I have seen it is not necessarily false, but many times it is that putting it differently sounds *wrong*, especially when they are combinations of the name

(Although after seeing that apparently apple radio and radioapple are not the same now I need an explanation of what radiosilent is as opposed to radiostatic)

2 The sub is The favorite

The first time I saw this was in a SW comment thread with a Chinese reader who was commenting with the author about top/Bottom preferences for the language and commented on this theory. They said that the Bottom gets all the love and since you want your favorite character to be adored that's why you write it like that

3 you project yourself into the Bottom

This came from another fandom, things got heated and toxic and a common accusation from a ship is that half the ship "had no personality" and they were using it to project themselves into a relationship whith the top

Personally I think they are all true to some extent, but I also see them as renunciationist and I myself am not without my own prejudices.

Part of the problem is that in relationships m/m and w/w, they continue to be written as one part a hairy-chested alpha male and the other part a blushing, submissive (and I have a weakness for ABO bulbs but there the problem is worse). In the case of radioapple Alastor has been reduced to his ego and need for control (so he could never let go. And is there something strangely allosexual about the way they write it?) and Lucifer to his depression (so he needs to be adored... And the truth is, I do think 3 applies here)

With what we see, I think that Lucifer has no problem being at the bottom, but his preference is at the top, even bordering on the Dom.Lucifer has insecurity and depression but he also knows he is powerful and we see him being authoritarian even if he later recants.He seems to be the type who would enjoy being the one to give pleasure to his partner, but I also don't see him giving up control easily when there are already so many things in his life out of control.Lucifer doesn't want someone to come in and take control by emptying his head, he wants something he can control and show exactly how good he is at it.

Alastor, on the other hand (this is where my prejudice comes in): what does he gain by being the top? Some kind of power play? Because I feel like Alastor can find that high without involving genital play.How ace (and probably aroace and almost certainly on the gray or demi side for most fics to work) Alastor would need something more to really get involved like that, which is why I feel like the top Alastor fics almost always feel too Allo for my taste, he just fucks like anyone else.When Alastor is the Bottom the writer gives him a little more nuance.

So that's my two cents to the discussion 🙃

Honestly, I think you're on point with most of these. (I too would like to know the difference between radiosilence and radiostatic - i see a lot of different names pop up for Alastor/Vox, whether its reciprocal or unrequited, and I can't keep up with it. I think radiosilence means the attraction is one-side? Maybe?? I think??

I can see the logic behind people having their fav be the bottom because they want them to feel loved and adored. I, too, am guilty of this. It also probably helps that the top is usually depicted as doing most of work LOL (Bringing Doms and Subs into this, there are a lot of fics that explore sub-drop, usually with their fav character--which I totally get--but it'd be interesting to read more fics that explore dom-drop too).

Personally, I've never felt any real attraction towards the characters I like, so I've never projected myself as a bottom or top through a pairing to be with one of the character. I project my insecurities and life experiences on them 🤓☝️ LMAO same basic concept, just a different shades But characterXreader fics/posts are super popular! So, I see that one too.

Part of the problem is that in relationships m/m and w/w, they continue to be written as one part a hairy-chested alpha male and the other part a blushing, submissive (and I have a weakness for ABO bulbs but there the problem is worse). In the case of radioapple Alastor has been reduced to his ego and need for control (so he could never let go. And is there something strangely allosexual about the way they write it?) and Lucifer to his depression (so he needs to be adored... And the truth is, I do think 3 applies here)

Very much agreed. I enjoy Omegaverse fics too, but it's one of those fanfic tropes that I'm picky about. It needs to be written a certain way for me to really enjoy it.

I don't know, just the default that one person has to be dominate and the other has to submissive never sat right with me. For a long time, I was super squicked out by even the thought of being in a relationship because of this. I'm a small person, most people are taller than me, and I'm pretty thin, so the mental assumption that I'd have to be "the submissive one," considering that's what almost always happens in these depicted relationships, made me feel so much anger, anxiety, and discomfort. I hated the thought that that's what would be expected of me. (Personal lore drop: considering I also grew up in a hyper-religious, extremely patriarchal town, the expectation felt 10x worse and 100x more real. I dreaded getting older and starting romantic/sexual relationships).

Also, yes, with a lot of top!Alastor content I've seen, there is something very strangely allosexual about it. Or, at least that's how it comes off to me. Asexuality is a spectrum, so there's no "perfect" way to be ace, it's just...there's just something about it that feels very allosexual, and maybe why I keep shying away from it. It squicks me out a bit, ngl.

People keep saying they see Lucifer as a switch, and funnily enough, it was actually confirmed by Vivenne Mendrano that he canonically is a switch! Of course, if people want to see him exclusively as a bottom or top, that's fair. You do you, boo. We're here to have a good time. But I'm very happy with his canon sexuality, so that's where I keep him. I can see him as a sub and a dom, too.

I also see Lucifer as the type who enjoys giving his partner pleasure! Be it bottoming, topping, subbing, or domming. He'll try out kinks and position and role-play, because I headcanon him and Lilith having a very healthy, very explorative sex-life. They were freaks in the sheets, and they tried all the new, crazy shit sinners brought with them into Hell.

I keep Alastor exclusively as a bottom, though. Some of it is because I see him being kind of grossed out with the idea of a part of him going into someone else (hello self projection!) but I also see him generally being sex-indifferent. Like, he'll have sex, and he'll enjoy it, but it's not something he typically seeks out for himself. Maybe once in a way, when he's in the ✨mood✨ he'll initiate. If his partner wants sex and he doesn't, he's not forcing himself. If his partner wants sex and he's kind of just vibing--not feeling horny, but not really against it either--yeah, he'll have sex. It's not like he's getting nothing out of it, he still feels and enjoys the pleasure in the act, even if he's generally indifferent towards doing it.

If he's comfortable with it he'll even indulge their kinks (and indulge his own 😉 not all kinks have to be sexual, afterall. And even if his are, that is still valid and does not take away from his sexuality because aces can still have sexual kinks 🫵 I'm looking at you, people who assume aces can't have sexual desires). (I also gave Alastor a power kink 😏 because I think he'd be into his partner displaying immense amounts of power. It doesn't even have to be directed at him. He'll watch his boo destroy a city block and then fuck them later because that was hawt.)

A lot of it could also be because he feels too allo for me when he is written as a top. Lol "he fucks like everyone else," is a very good way to put it 😂 When he bottoms, it feels like he's written with more of his ace-identity in mind, which I love!

But also, I like Alastor being a bottom just because. I vibe with it. 'Nuff said.

Thank you for your two cents!

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love part 8 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here where it's still in need of love, if anybody is feeling kind *sobs* ;))

Chapter Eight

Eddie POV continued

“You kissed? And now you can’t wake him?” Robin perches beside Steve on the bunk then rounds on Eddie—genuinely baring her teeth. “I shouldn’t leave you alone with him. It’s like you’re cursing him or something.”

“Woah! Are you accusing me of satanist shit now?” Eddie stops pacing the floorboards, claws his hair.

“Steve? Steve! Oh God, please!” She gently pats him, sinks her face into a hand. “Sorry, Eddie. It’s just… totally unexplainable.” She looks up sharply. “That’s exactly what we should be looking for, right?”

“The unexplainable?” Robin nods. “I should be dead. Steve should be bright and breezy—”

“—and it’s not anything to do with the Upside Down.”

Eddie hums uneasily. Should he share the new theory he’s got brewing? “I dunno. It blows to be a cynic, but—"

“Come on, Eddie! There are so many other possible explanations. If the Upside Down is real, who knows what else is? You’re a maestro of the D and D underworld—work with me here.”

They bounce ideas off each other, including that Steve might’ve succumbed to bad beer. Neither of them buy that one.

“Maybe Steve has some sort of regenerative power,” she says, “like Doctor Who. And you’re leeching it out of him, or something.”

Eddie hoots: “It’s my fault again?”

“No! Look, I sometimes get kinda papa grizzly where Steve is concerned, which is odd, because otherwise, I have almost zero protective instinct. We can’t deny the pattern, though—last time you two got mouth to mouth, he performed miracles and then went downhill fast. This time, uh…”

“I slurped the life out of him again?” Eddie sinks down on the opposite bunk. He thinks back to the kiss, which had been so mind-blowingly awesome. Until it wasn’t. Time to test his number one sucks-balls-squared theory of the day.

He slowly peels his shirt—or, rather, Steve’s now extremely grubby t-shirt—off over his head.

“Ew! Save it for the boys, Munson.”

He runs his palm across his midriff, glances over his shoulder, then hurries closer to the window for better light. Holy shit. “I was still covered in scars yesterday. Even earlier today, there was too much pink among the ink. Now there’s diddly-squat.”

 “So, Steve is still healing you?”

Eddie scrunches the shirt and hurls it across the room. “Yeah, and at this rate, my payback’s gonna kill him! We’ve been so fixated on Steve—what if I’m somehow a font of crappy juju? The big bad wolf the whole world believes I am, after all.”

“No.” Robin strokes Steve’s arm. Eddie’s dying to be close to him, too. Shit, he doesn’t dare! “It’s the water. It gives him some kind of power, and he’s passing it on to you. I mean, it doesn’t explain everything, but…”

Eddie retrieves his shirt, grabs her lifeline and clings to it. “It’s as good an explanation as any.”

“Ooooh!” She turns super-excited. “Perhaps there are fairies in Lover’s Lake? Water nymphs? Or aliens landed there! I’m still mightily suspicious about those clouds and the choppers, because—”

“This is getting absurd, Robin.” She sneers at him, shrugs anyhow. “Look, if we buy the lake theory, what can we do about it? It’s not like we can drag him there. We left the car practically in the next county, and he’s too sick.”

“I could fetch water and bring it back here?”

“Given my recent form, I think it’s best for you to stay with him. Eddie the Banished will don his armour and head once more into the breach.”

“Shakespeare? You listened in English Lit?”

Eddie puffs out his chest, conjuring a bravado he so doesn’t feel. “Still gonna be my year, Buckley.”

His armour is chiefly the shelter of the forest, during several hours of tedious trek. He cycles the last part of his journey, pulling his bandana over his face. When he makes radio contact with Dustin, however, his journey feels more than worth it.

Eddie arranges a meet with the Wheelers at Skull Rock. At least, he believes he does. Dustin communicates in one of his more baffling codes. Eddie is blown away, therefore, when he spots his fave lil’ dude approaching their liaison spot. Dustin defiantly wears his Hellfire Club t-shirt, despite everything.

Dustin throws down his crutches. Eddie rushes forward and flings his arms around him.

“Eddie! You son-of-a-bitch! You scared me so much!”

“Yeeeah, I was pretty scared myself.” Eddie hugs him tight, squeezes his eyes tighter. Tears leak anyhow. “But I’m alive and…” He pulls back, drinks up the sight of Dustin, who sniffs and rubs his red face. “God, it’s good to see you.”

Somebody clears their throat. Eddie jumps a good two inches in the air.

“Hey.” Nancy Wheeler stands a few yards off, offering a sheepish wave, which Eddie returns.

It’s not really surprising she’s there. Someone had to give Dustin a ride, and help him limp through the woods. Sitting beneath the rock, the three of them discuss possible explanations for wtf is going on with Steve.

“Okay, let me get my head around this,” she says. “You think Steve derives some sort of regenerative power from Lover’s Lake? And he’s sick? Right now?” She frets her lip. “I should go to him.”

“Uuuuuh, no need. We’re coping all right.” Eddie almost laughs out loud at how badly he doesn’t want her anywhere near Steve. He’d never in his wildest dreams have believed he would go toe-to-toe as a love rival with Nancy Wheeler.

She shakes her head. “There’s gotta be a connection with the Upside Down. This is bad. Really bad.”

“Not necessarily,” says Dustin. “I like Eddie’s hypothesis. There’s no logical reason why all the supernatural shit in this town, let alone this world, is evil.”

“It was Robin’s hypothesis,” admits Eddie.

“Whatever,” says Dustin. “If a bad alternate dimension can bleed into ours, maybe a good dimension can too.”

“I suppose,” said Nancy. Eddie nearly agrees with her, but can’t quite be that gracious. “Either way, if that lake fixes Steve somehow, we need to act quick.”

Nancy heads off to collect lake water. Once she’s gone, Eddie feels able to share his other Steve-related issue: “Didn’t want to divulge this in front of Wheeler, but… Uh, Steve and I got mouth-to-mouth again.”

“You had to perform CPR on him? I had no idea you knew—”

“There’s other reasons that lips meet.” Eddie puckers his lips and crosses his eyes, totally silly. 

Dustin stares at him, his mouth hanging open. “Oh!”

“Yeah. Theeeeen… he basically passed out.”

“Whut?”

“Look, don’t ask me to explain it! I mean, I like him. I really like him. Equally implausible, I think he likes me, but…” Aargh! His feelings for Steve are more tortuous than pleasurable right now. What’s more, the distance between them makes armouring his heart a teeny-weeny bit easier. 

“But?” Dustin bobs up and down on his butt.

“If I’m making him sicker, I should make myself scarce. I still wonder if I’m the bad apple here. Flayed… or whatever. It would neatly continue the sordid tale that is my life. Plus, if Hopper’s back, I bet he can get Steve off the hook for aiding and abetting, or whatever. Steve can go home, get the help he needs.”

“Hopper’s got his own problems, dude.” Dustin scratches his head beneath his baseball cap, kinda nervy. “There’s this army colonel in town, O’Sullivan, who’s pretty much Vecna levels of evil. He knows about Brenner and Hawkins Lab, and… Long story, cut short. He’s out to kill Eleven.”

“You gotta be shitting me!”

“That was my line when I found out. Hopper and El are hiding out, waiting for a safe opportunity to get outta Dodge. The band of the banished gets bigger every day.”

“Well, this exile should return to being a solo act. Steve and I absolutely would not work in the real world.”

“Huh?” Dustin wrinkles his nose. “You’re different—that’s what makes it fun. Even Suzie and I don’t like all the same music, for example. She’s got a real downer on Debbie Gibson.”

“Then maybe I should date Suzie,” mumbles Eddie, avoiding Dustin’s scrutiny. “In reality, Steve and I are from different planets. I’ve seen his house—his folks are loaded.”

“You can’t hold Steve’s parents against him. They’re literally never there for him. His Dad travels tons, and they stopped taking him with him when he was, like, eleven, because…” Dustin’s jaw drops again.

“Because what?” prompts Eddie. 

“Steve stopped travelling with his parents because he started getting sick every time.”

“So, he got travel sick. So do tons of kids. So what?”

“I honestly don’t know! But it supports your theories concerning his proximity to the lake. Sort of.” Dustin whacks his cap against the rock. “Jesus-mother-effing-son-of-a-bitch! I am literally dying to return to a world where I can trust the laws of science.”

Steve POV

1979

Getting himself up in the morning, getting himself to the school bus-stop alone—that only sucked.

It was the emptiness of the night that freaked him out.

Steve stayed up too late, of course he did. He was nearly twelve years old, with nobody to tell him what to do. He ate sweets and watched grown-up television, which got boring pretty fast. When he finally plucked up the courage to go to bed, he’d huddle under the covers, muffling his ears. It never drowned out that horrible, screaming quiet.

Who knew silence could be so loud?

He missed his mom, and it hurt, too. Knowing she chose to leave him behind. 

He’d hated travelling, because in the last year, he’d always got ill. Like, not just travel sick, but fevers and chills and headaches and stomach cramps, always “ruining” his father’s trips. 

Inevitably, his dad decreed that he must stay behind, and the first couple of times, his mom stayed home with him. Then she’d told him his father needed her more. What did that even mean? Steve really, really needed her, simply to be there. Somewhere in the house.

She wasn’t. 

The hours would stretch on, while he was too scared to close his eyes, until…

The monsters barged out of the closet, rioting through his nightmares. Then THEY arrived, with their smooth, smiling face and whirlpool eyes. That wordlessly singing voice, trickling through the waters, reassuring him everything would be all right…

In the morning, shuffling to the bus-stop, he remembered them. Clearer than the monsters, even. Oh man, he could be so childish and unhip sometimes.

“Steve? Steve! Please wake up! You’ve been asleep for hours.”

A groan escapes him, and then: “Momma?” Somehow, he knows it’s not her. “Dad?”

He opens his eyes. 

Oh shit. 

No, that’s not where his life is now. He’s sure as hell not eleven-years-old! Robin looks faintly amused, and also like she wants to thump him: “Gonna give you a pass on that this once, Steve, then go bleach my brain.”

Part 9

...

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 10 Part 11

[tehrevving]

I believe you may or may not have awnsered a similar ask, but as i read chaos theory i'm sitting here like "oh damn, y/n is really blowing this poor man's mind, heart and soul to oblivion with the knowledge that she genuinely loves him and his affections aren't unrequited or driven by guilt" like damn Rev, you and y/n are going all out on poor vincent there. I honestly can't blame you. Even though it overwhelms the sweet man, he really needs genuine love from someone who's dead set on loving him and him alone.

Anywho, question if we get more content from Square Enix (i pray we do, i really do i feel starved for vincent now) that primarily involves vincent more, are we gonna get to see our man grapple with this knowledge and come to the understanding that the love he's developed with y/n definitely isn't one-sided once you're able sink claws into the new content and flesh out your story? Are we also gonna see his demons come out and play a bit more as well when that happens? I love myself some chaos "scares" and well, i'm kinda itching to see if we get some other demon "scares" sprinkled in èwé

Good questions Anon, this is a huge one so I’ll answer it bit by bit lol.

To start with, I have absolutely left some breadcrumbs in Chaos Theory that hint at some of the other plot things that are going on. These hints are incredibly subtle, maybe too subtle honestly lmao, but I have seen them mentioned in comments so 😅. I do intend to reveal some important plot stuff in the sequel covering the Temple of the Ancients. I’m talking shocking stuff lmao, so that’s definitely coming even if SE doesn’t give us any more Vincent content until part 3.

Without knowing where SE are going to go with part 3, I have a bunch of plot ideas that are somewhat vague, so that I can fill them in with specifics eventually. Unfortunately this means that even when I reveal stuff, it’s still gonna be kind of vague 😭😭. So apologies for that.

I also want to add that while I obviously want to finish this story, I can’t exactly commit to writing another fic once part 3 comes out in 3 years time. So, I am apologising in advance that this story might never end up finished.

Specifically with regards to your question, yes Vincent would have to come to terms with allllll of that lol. I mentioned in a previous ask that as long as the timeline works out, their initial “I love you’s” would be just after visiting Lucrecia in her cave. Emotions at that point would be exceptionally high, and Vincent is forced to make a choice and confront his own feelings.

Like, just consider that conversation for a sec. Because Reader knows a lot of Vincent’s backstory by that stage, it’s not just about him having to make a choice about clinging to the past or moving forward. It’s also coming to terms about what Lu(sexually and experimentally) and Hojo(experimentally) did to him, which he only really does in Dirge in canon. Reader is also smart enough to connect the dots on her own that he might be Seph’s father too. There’s just a whole host of things there and there’s no way I’d ever let Vincent get away with not coming to terms with all of it 😂.

With regards to his monsters, of course they would be making more appearances. I love them and I’m way too much of a monster fucker to ignore them. Each of them would get their own time in the spotlight hehehe.

Honestly they’re one of the main reasons I’m reluctant to commit to a part 3 fic. As a quick example, Chaos Theory has 7 smut scenes. Any sequel would need each monster, the love confession and then an “Under the Highwind” end of the world scene. Thats 6 before we even start on them just having fun and exploring each other, and you know, the actual plot lmao.

Anywayyyy. I rambled a lot but there you go. Feel free to send in any more questions or ask for clarification if I was too vague. This fic is my baby and I love talking about it :)