#please know there was nothing I could have done

[novthirty]

🐦‍⬛ OUT OF BOUNDS — you get isekai-d into the n109 zone [chapter three]

synopsis — the monotony of your university days is interrupted by a stroke of misfortune, one which lands you in the world of love and deepspace, the game you had been casually playing for the previous months. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of being his personal secretary. — a continuation of the one-shot “out of bounds”

pairing — sylus x non-mc! reader

tags — reader is not mc, isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, mutual pining, slice of life, boss/employee relationship, slow burn

a/n — can i finish this fic by sylus’s birthday? i genuinely don’t know… 😭 but i’m finally on break so i’ll try my best in the next few days! anywho, we’ve finally caught up to where the one shot ended so get ready for the angst 😋

ao3 | masterlist | requests are open! series masterlist | part two | part four [coming soon]

chapter three: countdown— the night softens people in ways that can only be done in the haze of darkness, revealing a vulnerability too fragile for the harsh rays of the sun. you know this could be more, you know this could be everything. but the clock ticks down to what you know is inevitable. wc: 7.9k

A constant chill sweeps through the streets of the N109 Zone, creeping into the compound as you exchange flowy shirts and iced tea for thick sweaters and hot cocoa. It’s on one of these nights just past the first snowfall, towards the end of November, when he finds you in the kitchen minutes after midnight. Sitting alone, lighting a candle atop a puny cupcake. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” His voice rumbles through the kitchen, startling you and breaking your focus. The lighter slips from your grasp, falling and smudging the frosting. Well, shit. You didn’t exactly prepare a backup. 

“Uhm,” You stare guiltily at him like a deer caught in the headlights. There was no way you were getting out of this one, were you? Not when he’s standing with his arms crossed, disappointed, like a parent who’s caught their child red-handed. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose in quiet frustration, “Please. Please. Do not tell me that today is what I think it is.”

“Surprise?”

“Surprise? Is that all you have to say for yourself?” His eye twitches. Even on your own birthday, you don’t fail to surprise him at every turn. Here you are, having thrown such lovely and thought-out celebrations for everyone’s birthdays, settling for a cupcake and a lonely celebration on yours. “Why on earth would you decide to keep this information from me?” 

“Well, it’s just a birthday. I didn't feel the need to have a lot of celebration this year." The answer is nowhere enough to appease him, judging by his stern gaze. 

You knew this world had a lot to offer; you had barely explored the criminal underbelly that was the N109 Zone, barely stepped into the shining beacon that was Linkon city. You were sure there was more than enough to fill in the gaps of your bucket list. But nothing could match the reckless but youthful adventure of getting lost with life-long friends. Nothing could live up to the warmth and solace of being surrounded by family, as you blow the candles on another year.

You try to keep it all buried under the surface– but with a sigh, you decide to cut open old wounds and bare a little more of your heart to him, “There was more to be sad about than to be happy, I guess. I had so many plans, so many people that I—“ You cut yourself off. Those heart strings were too fragile to be tugged at. “Well, now it’s all kind of gone to shit, huh?” You laugh bitterly. 

Without missing a beat, Sylus asks, “And what were those plans?” 

You reminisce on your old life, splitting the deformed cupcake with him as you recount plans that will never be. It hurts less than you expected it to, to breathe these lost wishes into existence for someone else to hear. 

He listens intently, chiming in with similar experiences or places that he’s seen in this world– frankly, it reminds you of when your elders used to go on about their wisdom and their golden years. “Your age is showing, grandpa,” You tease him, and he lightly glares at you. You take the opportunity to ruffle his hair, “Your hair’s already silver, too.” 

Eventually, your lunch break comes to an end, and you bid him goodbye as he returns to his office. You sigh as you clean up and throw away the candle you never even got to light. Oh well. There’s always next year. 

Later that day you wake up in the afternoon, ready to start your shift— only to be greeted by streamers and balloons lining your path downstairs. “Happy birthday!” The whole house cheers as you enter the living room, decked out in all sorts of party favors. Even Sylus— the most notoriously unfestive man you’ve ever met— is wearing a cone shaped party hat striped with your favorite colors.

What follows is an impromptu day-off for everyone in the compound. (You feel an oncoming migraine thinking of how you’re going to readjust Sylus’s schedule, but that’s a job for future you.) They bring you to Linkon City, driving past the welcome sign as the sunset casts a pink glow over the horizon. It’s your first time visiting for leisure, your previous excursions into the city being solely for Onychinus business. 

Sitting beside you at the wheel, Sylus participates in the idle chatter, but inwardly he feels ashamed. He's upset that you kept the date to yourself for so long; but more than that, he’s angry at himself for never having bothered to ask. So, in the final hours of your birthday, he does his best to make up for it. 

The four of you drive around the city with Mephisto following from the skies, visiting various spots that were eerily similar to the ones you had described mere hours ago to Sylus. The itinerary matches your original plans to a T, as he drags you to every activity you had desired to partake in, lavishing you with all sorts of presents on the way. 

Your last stop is a shopping center, to which you groan, already knowing the fate that awaits you. Sylus is the type to spend more than he needs to as a statement. He insists that you wait for him in the plaza, no doubt going off to the most luxurious store in the mall looking for a hefty price tag. You sit by the fountain, deserted due to the late hour, dangling your feet as you wait for him to return.

You gasp as a cold pair of hands suddenly covers your eyes. “Keep still, sweetheart,” He whispers in your ear, shocking you out of your bored reverie. You keep your eyes forward as he pulls your hair aside, breath hitching as he clasps a necklace around your neck, the cold metal brushing against your skin. It's a thin chain, with a gem of your favorite color set in an intricate frame. You don’t know much about jewelry or gems, but you can’t comprehend how much this must have cost. The way it sparkles and glints under the light makes it clear that it must have cost a fortune. 

“Sylus, I can't accept this…” You turn around to face him. Just as when he took you shopping before the auction, it’s far too much. You’re not used to being spoiled, not used to treating yourself without deserving it first, and you tell him as much. 

He tips your chin upwards with a feather-light touch, his gaze unreadable as he asks, “And who says my lovely secretary doesn’t deserve the world at her feet?” 

The atmosphere shifts, the effortless ease at which you interact with him dissipating into stutters and heated stares. This tension follows you as you reunite with Luke and Kieran, the two having gone their separate ways to buy you their own present— a new set of knitting needles, and a mug with the words “World’s Best Secretary” that they’ve decorated to hell and back with rhinestones in your favorite colors.

The four of you spend the rest of the evening dining in a fancy restaurant, bypassing the queue with Sylus’s name alone. It’s a strictly no-work evening, as you bicker with the twins and coo at Mephisto (You have since learned he cannot digest food. It’s a shame, and you’ve been pestering Sylus to add it as his next upgrade.) You turn to him, casually silent throughout it all. All throughout the night you’ve been hyper aware of his heat pressed against your side, his thigh brushing against yours, even as he seems unaffected himself. He raises an eyebrow upon catching your gaze, “Are you enjoying yourself?” 

You nod; a true, content smile on your face. It's not exactly the birthday you envisioned for yourself this year; the absence of your friends and loved ones still acts as a wide, gaping hole in your heart. But nonetheless, you now have a newfound family to spend your special day with— and that’s more than you could have ever expected. 

When the cake is brought out— a fancy, two-tiered thing in your favorite color— you make a wish. It’s not about your wistful longing to go home. It’s not about your hopeless desire to wake up from this strange dream. It’s a wish for all your moments to be like this— heart full, and with family by your side. 

After dinner, Luke and Kieran have to leave for a mission they couldn’t get out of. “Happy birthday,” They each greet you again with a hug and a disappointed goodbye, “Sorry we can’t continue the celebration back home.” You wave off their worries— there’s always more fun to be had once they come back. 

“Boys, take the car,” Sylus tosses over the keys, “I'll be taking Treasure out for a spin. She’s been getting a little dusty, lately.”

The twins glance at each other with a knowing look, subtly looking towards you with a hint of mischief, “Oh, gotcha boss.” They lightly snicker as you two walk them to the parking lot. 

“What's so funny?” You narrow your eyes, knowing very well by now that that look means nothing but trouble. 

“Nothing to worry about, Ms. Secretary… Nothing to worry about. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Luke grins before rolling up the driver’s window. 

About half an hour later, you deeply regret not listening to your instincts as you scream your head off, clung to Sylus's back like a koala as he goes faster than you thought was technologically possible. ”What the fuck— Sylus, slow down!” Your shout fades into a shriek, your screams of terror echoing throughout the empty road as he leans the motor til’ your knees are brushing against the pavement, a shit-eating grin on his face behind the visor of his helmet. 

“Her name’s Treasure,” He said, pulling out the beast of a motorcycle from his Linkon safe house, introducing it to you as one of his most prized possessions. You don’t know what you were expecting when he tossed over a helmet and told you to hold tight, but you certainly didn’t expect to have a near-death experience on the day of your birth. He continues to rev up the engine, a hellish speed that shortens a fifteen minute trip out of Linkon to a mere three minutes. 

You cling on for dear life, your whole body wound tightly in fear, and eventually he settles into a safer speed, adrenaline fading and allowing you to enjoy the night breeze. “Let’s take a little detour, hm?” You barely hear him over the rumble of the engine, making a turn just past the Linkon City welcome sign and to the opposite direction of the N109 Zone. He drives through the wilderness and the winding roads, bringing you to a rocky cliff side. 

You gasp at the sight before you, taking off your helmet to admire it in all its glory. You could see the entirety of Linkon from here, a circuit board of lights and neon colors, casting a dim glow over the city skyline. It's rare to find a clear sky in the winter, giving way to the full moon and the sea of stars. 

“Can we take a picture?” You ask hesitantly, fully expecting him to say no. 

He nods, “You should have memories of your birthday.” Your jaw drops. There are only a handful of photos of him on record– he rarely ever lets anyone take a picture of him, out of caution on his identity being leaked. 

As the one with the longer arms, you gesture for him to take the picture, posing for a selfie with the skyline in the background. But as he hands you the phone, genuinely satisfied with the photo after taking a look– you think, is he messing with you? The photo is blurry, the both of you a little bit out of frame, and his finger blocks the corner of the image. 

You laugh in confusion; you genuinely cannot tell whether this is a prank or not. “Let’s take another one, I'll do it this time.”

You don’t know how long you two stay there, with your head laid against his shoulder, a quiet peace settling over you two as you talk about anything and everything. On the ride home, you find yourself flushing despite the winter chill. It’s a comfortable silence, yet your heart is thumping loudly against your chest. Does he hear how he makes you feel? You wonder as your eyes meet in the side mirrors, turning and burrowing your cheek into his warm shoulders. The journey home feels like an adventure coming to a close, street lights blinking against the night sky and quiet rumble of the few cars on the highway at this hour. 

Before he retires to his bedroom, you place a soft kiss against his cheek. “Thank you for today.” You whisper before shutting the door behind you. 

From then on, the air between you two shifts, becoming significantly more… tense. What were once casual interactions turn meaningful with every brush of your fingers, with every meeting of your eyes across the room. He's always lavished you with the sweetest of pet names; dear, darling, sweet girl. You assume it’s just how he is, given what you had seen of him from the game. But why does it make your heart race every time he refers to you with such terms of endearment? Why does it fuel your delusions of having something more?

—————————————————————

But of course, no matter how much the dynamic shifts and bends between the two of you, it doesn’t change the fact that with winter chill comes holiday tunes and festivities. You were absolutely appalled at their lack of holiday spirit in the previous years, “How can you run an organization like this?!” So, on the week before Christmas, you once again strong-arm Sylus into having your festive way at the Onychinus base. 

It begins with you dragging your boss out to the nearest Christmas tree farm. “You’re rich enough to afford a real one,” You decide definitively. He rolls his eyes but drives you there anyway. 

You two spend an hour walking through the farm with mugs of hot cocoa, eventually settling on a tree that you have to lug all the way back to base. You huff as you carry the other end of the cart, your breath coming out in clouds of condensed air ever since you two brought it out of the truck. You wheeze in exhaustion, “Are you even lifting?” You helplessly ask Sylus, who looks too nonchalant considering the literal tree you two were carrying. 

“Oh? My bad,” Is all he says before swooping in with his evol, red tendrils wrapping around the trunk to carry it the rest of the way. You hold in the urge to scream and cuss at him. This man just loves to test your patience. 

Each night on the week before Christmas goes similarly. The moment your work is done for the day, you drag the whole house into some sort of festive activity. Decorating the compound, baking a gingerbread house, making eggnog. Holiday tunes fill the Onychinus base 24/7 and for once, Sylus finds that he doesn’t mind. Not when he sees the way you dance to yourself when you think no one’s looking, the way you know the words by heart and hum them under your breath. But he doesn’t participate much, mostly checking in and making sardonic yet supportive comments before returning to his work.

One evening, he decides to bring his work to the living room while you’re setting up the tree. It was a great source of entertainment to see you struggle on your toes placing the ornaments, hoisting yourself up on whatever nearby surface was available to you. But even he found it a bit too pitiful to watch you struggle to place the star, too vertically challenged to place the finishing touch. Couldn’t you just get a ladder? “Let me help you,” His breath tickles your ear as he grabs your waist, lifting you up with one arm. 

You squeal, gripping to him tightly and kicking at the air beneath you, “Sylus, what the fuck! Put me down!”

“Place the star, darling. While I'm still being nice." In the end, you call it a team effort, despite his only contribution being his role as a human ladder. 

—————————————————————

Your mood has been nothing but jovial the whole week of Christmas, caught up in nothing but festivities in anticipation of the holiday. And so, it disturbs him when the eve of the 25th arrives and you’re downtrodden. A shell of your typical self. He's never seen you like this before— absentminded and listless, it takes you a whole minute to realize he’s calling your name for the grand Christmas dinner you had insisted upon. “I'm fine, just a bit sleepy,” you explain as he voices his worries. He doesn’t believe you, not one bit, judging by the way his eyes continue to follow you through the rest of the night.

You open presents with everyone at midnight, gathered around the fireplace with the whole Onychinus family. This time, you knitted Sylus a scarf; he wraps it around himself immediately, already knowing it’ll be a staple in his closet for the winter months to come. He looks to his right and sees Mephisto with a matching, tiny version around his neck. 

Meanwhile, you were overwhelmed upon unwrapping the large present addressed to you and finding a high-grade coffee machine, one of the fancy ones with a latte art feature. How did he know? You narrow your eyes at him across the room, a satisfied smirk twisting his face. You’ve never said anything about it, only looked at the ads and the site out of boredom and curiosity. (Simple answer: He had Mephisto spy on you when you were scrolling your phone.)

You smile and thank everyone at the right cues, but he can tell your heart’s not in it. Physically, you celebrate and have your childish fun with the twins, dancing to merry tunes and having all-out warfare with the crumpled wrapping paper littering the floor. But mentally, you were far away— your eyes speaking of a grief none of them could begin to comprehend. Once the cookies are nothing but crumbs and the wrapping paper is all cleaned up, he decides to take you to the rooftop to ask what’s wrong. 

“Come on, let’s get some fresh air,” He invites you, donning his coat and boots. 

You throw him a skeptical look, “In this frigid temperature? Are you insane? I'm already shivering here inside,” You fake-shiver dramatically just to prove your point. 

“Well then, isn’t it fortunate you just received a plethora of winter clothes for the holiday?” He gestures to the pile of fancy, designer items you had folded on top of the coffee machine’s box. You’ve long since learned to pick your battles with this man– and it is simply not worth it anymore to argue with how he spends his money.

“Well-played,” You begrudgingly acquiesce, following him up to the rooftop where you sniffle from the cold air biting at your nose. 

You’ve spent countless nights here in the warmer months, the only place where you could pretend the N109 Zone wasn’t the bloody death trap it truly was, shining under the glow of the moonlight and the stars littering the sky. Only from the top– from an untouchable position of power– could this wretched, dangerous city look so beautiful. 

“What's on your mind?“ Sylus asks, breaking the peaceful quiet. “You haven’t been yourself all evening.” It faintly reminds you of those nights in spring, wind brushing against your cheeks as you slowly began to let down the barriers of your heart, the terror of slumber softened by the comfort of company. A lot has changed since then, you think. But at the same time, there’s a lot that hasn’t. 

“I—“ You hesitate, planning on brushing it off like you always do. But then you realize: you trust Sylus, more than anyone else in this world. 

And so, you decide to bare your heart to the only person who holds enough of it to break it. 

It's a bittersweet Christmas for you, the first you’ve ever spent away from home. For the first time since you were whisked away to this surreal world, you speak of your original life. Your family. Your friends. Your dreams. A fragile boundary that you haven’t touched with anyone here, for it hurts too much to speak of what you left behind. (No, not left behind. Taken away from you.) 

You try to string sentences together, try to give justice to the people who brought meaning to your life, to the reckless and stressful and beautiful joy of your old world— but how do you capture all that you’ve lost in mere words? It's too much. You feel your chest cave under the weight of these emotions, far too heavy for one heart to handle. “I miss them so much,” Your voice cracks, small tears streaming down your cheeks— but he offers you a quiet grace and says nothing of it. It’s such a painfully simple sentence to express the torrent that devastates you— and yet, he understands.

The night softens people in ways that can only be done in the haze of darkness, revealing a vulnerability too fragile for the harsh rays of the sun. And thus, it is here beneath snowfall and starry skies, where he sheds his claws and his barriers, telling you of his search for the other half of his soul. He speaks of a similar homesickness, finding kinship with you through loss, as he’s waited what seems like a millennia for the person he calls his home. You already know, of course, that sooner or later he will meet her again. It was inevitable, written into the cards as it was written into code. This world was once your favorite game, and you had shed tears at their loss, at their cursed fate. You stay silent, listening to the tragic tale from the man himself.

His eyes speak of so many more untold truths— of love hidden deep in the crevices of his heart, taking root in his chest for the past millennia and shaping the man he’s become. “I had never known love until I found her.” He speaks of her with such fondness sparkling in his eyes, an adoration reserved for his one and only— his sorceress, his soulmate. It makes you hurt for this man, for the trials he’s endured in the name of true love. But it is also a bitter reminder that you have no place by his side. 

Although you stay by his side and offer him words of comfort, deep inside you also want to claw at him. Force his eyes on you so you can feel even a smidgen of that pure adoration for yourself. But you can only feel bitter guilt taking root inside you. After all, who are you to meddle in their tale? Who are you to rival fate itself? 

It is winter solstice now, a period marked by a perpetual chill and the longest nights of the year. Your relationship with Sylus is one that has prospered in darkness; taking root in the midnight hours, your most tender and vulnerable moments allowed only under the cover of the night sky. But inevitably it will be overshadowed by the return of summer and with it, his soulmate— the woman who brought sunshine to his darkest days.

—————————————————————

On New Year’s Eve, he doesn’t even give you the chance to feel homesick. The moment the sun rises, he takes you on a joyride to Linkon City. It’s rare for you to see Sylus in the daylight; shrouded in sunshine rather than moonlight, surrounded by crowds rather than deserted streets. “I go here every year,” He boasts as he leads you to the temple fair, determined to make your first New Year’s Eve here memorable. 

“Oh?” You’re rather surprised, given that he doesn’t exactly have a penchant for celebrating the holidays. But you smile, walking forward to match his stride, “Well then, I'll trust you to lead the way!”

He takes you around the fair— buying from the various food stalls he says are the best, watching the street performances he’s probably seen countless times before, doing all the festive gimmicks he knows you’ll love, even if it isn’t his cup of tea. He keeps you occupied, making sure you don’t even have a moment to feel sad.

At the front of the temple, you ask him to take a picture of you in front of the pretty backdrop. You pose for a few pictures, guided by his direction until he hands you the phone, “Tell me if you want me to take another.”

What greets you is the blurriest, most unflattering photo of you to exist in both your old and current world. You scroll through the rest of the pictures only to find they all hold the same level of (or rather, lack of) quality. You stare blankly at the screen and sigh, “This is good enough for me.” Everyone has their weaknesses, you suppose. 

Although Sylus mentioned that he’s a regular here, you’re still quite surprised to see his words ring true when all of the vendors greet him warmly, recognizing him from years past. “Let the lady choose one! It’s on the house,” A vendor selling fortune bracelets tells him, overjoyed that he finally brought someone along. You scan the numerous pieces on display, your eyes landing on a small beaded bracelet— the tag marking its fortune for “a safe return home.”

Sylus gracefully does not comment on this as the vendor packs the bracelet, bidding you two a jovial goodbye.

The two of you sightsee for a while before finding yourself sitting across from each other at a caricature portrait booth, directed by the artist to, “Look into each other’s eyes! I’ll make sure to capture the lovely couple you are.” Neither of you step in to correct him. But the artist’s light mood quickly fades as he soon realizes the type of client he’s dealing with. “Miss, please stop moving,” He says for the millionth time, absolutely fed up with your silly behavior.

You cannot stop your smile from trembling, your eyes locked on Sylus’s as the two of you went head-to-head in a staring contest– which you promptly lost five seconds in by bursting into giggles. You’re about to keel over, cheeks puffed up from poorly restrained laughter. Meanwhile, Sylus is comically straight-faced, amusedly raising an eyebrow at your antics, “What's so funny? Is there something on my face?”

Afterwards, he stakes his claim on the portrait, “It’s only right, considering what a hard time you gave the artist,” He reasons, snatching the paper from your hands. 

You slump and walk past him, grumbling, “I'd like to see him try to stay serious with your ridiculous face.”

But behind you, you don’t see how his eyes are locked on the sight of you captured in charcoal and ink, genuine glee transforming your face. You’ve never looked so beautiful, he thinks. Falling into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, shoulders momentarily free of the burden of all you’ve lost. He carefully stows the paper away, making a mental note to tip the artist extra. 

When night falls over the city, he brings you to the tallest building in Linkon for the best view of the fireworks show. Despite the chilly air, his hand is warm in yours, clutching it in a tight grip as he wades through the crowd of people who had the same idea. Fortunately, you find a secluded corner where the two of you sit and sip your milk tea, talking about your new year’s resolutions.

“I don't do resolutions,” He waved a hand, unimpressed. “If I want to change an aspect of my life, I won't wait until the start of a new year to do so.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” You stick your tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes, but he’s internally pleased with how well he’s distracted you thus far. “My resolutions are always the same. Exercise more, eat healthy, and save money!”

“Dear, there is a private gym back home that you haven’t touched even once,” Your heart flutters at the word home. A word that brings you melancholy on most days, but now fills your heart with domestic bliss.

“Well then, it’s perfect! I'll have no excuse not to start tomorrow.” 

He shakes his head in fond exasperation. Your eyes are glued to the magnificent colors soaring through the sky, legs bouncing in time with the countdown. But unbeknownst to you, his gaze is entirely on you. 

The world he lives in is a cruel and violent one, where people’s eyes sparkle with greed, envy, and lust. A part of him doesn’t understand how something as superficial as fireworks can bring people such joy, how holidays inspire a brief kindness in their hearts, as if it’ll make up for their sins the rest of the year. But maybe he can understand it, just a little bit now, he thinks. Because if it means seeing this look in your eyes again, so childlike and enchanted by the sight before you (the first time he’s seen happiness override the grief shadowing your eyes), then he would light the sky every night, just for you. 

When the clock strikes midnight, you jump to give him a big bear hug. “Happy new year, Sylus!”

He cradles you in his arms, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Happy new year.”

—————————————————————

Even the high-paced criminal world of the N109 Zone slows down on New Year’s Day, people burrowing in their homes to ward off the early January chill sweeping through the city. Work inside the Onychinus compound pauses as the world comes to a frosted standstill, and you spend a lazy morning with Sylus under fuzzy blankets and the warmth of the fireplace. 

You don’t know how you ended up in this position. You’d gone straight to bed after returning from Linkon– a mere hour of slumber until you woke up breathless, heart racing from the shadows conjured by your own mind. You crept downstairs, hoping to find solace in the company of others. Of course, Sylus is still awake. “Can’t sleep?” He turns down the volume of the boxing match on the television, so you can settle in peacefully at his side. You stare listlessly at the violent match on the screen, listening to his peaceful humming, until you fall back asleep.

But come morning, you’ve woken up with your legs tangled in his. Wrapped in each other’s arms, his chest rises and falls against yours, your head tucked under his chin as his breath lands right against your ear. 

It’s the first time you’ve seen Sylus in a deep slumber. You’ve fallen asleep countless times in his company, often waking up in your bedroom, carried back by him at some point while you were unconscious. Your heart flutters at the trust he’s shown you, but it also aches. It confuses you more as to where you stand. You know his heart still belongs to the hunter— there’s no doubt about it, with the grief that filled his eyes at the mention of her name, as he told you of the tragedy that befell them. 

But at the same time, you’ve toed the fragile boundaries of your relationship far too much for you to be called just friends. In moments like these, a part of you foolishly believes that maybe you could occupy his heart, take things further without restraint. But neither of you take a step towards confronting it, just living in this in-between of not just friends, not just coworkers, but not lovers in any sense.

You breathe in his scent and painstakingly pull yourself away, trying your best not to disturb him. You can no longer deny how much you want this, how much you want him. You yearn to wake up everyday pressed against his warmth, arms wrapped around each other with distance being non-existent. But a larger part of you, the one with a sense of self-preservation, also knows this won’t lead to anywhere good. And so, you slip away in the early hours of the morning and decide never to speak of it again. Instead, you ponder over your place in his life— and how long it’ll be yours.

—————————————————————

Almost a year has passed since your arrival, and you’ve grown more accustomed to the harsh edges of your new job. It’s not exactly what you had envisioned for yourself. You had once hoped to start somewhere more in line with your aspiring career, somewhere you could make use of your degree. But as you’ve learned, plans don’t always work out. What you do is unorthodox, but it’s fulfilling and allows you to live in this dangerous world from a safe vantage point, almost like dipping your toes into a ten feet pool. 

That doesn’t mean you’re completely sheltered from all the dangers of the job, however. Given the type of clientele you handle, more often than not, you’re faced with threats of being maimed over the phone when you can’t give somebody what they want. Each time, Sylus promptly takes over and matches their energy twicefold with a more heinous, yet very real threat.

The worst days are post-missions, when you have to witness your newfound family return bloody and bruised in the name of defending Onychinus. Anxiety fills your mind on the days of their missions, and you become conditioned to waiting with a first aid kit and a change of clothes for Luke and Kieran, patching up their wounds as soon as they step through the front door. But Sylus— you’d think he was invincible, with how he returns from even the most high-risk operations without a scratch. 

That is, until one night when he walks through the front door, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. His evol is working overtime to knit his skin back together, but the blood still pools beneath him on the marble tile. 

It's early January, almost a year since your arrival into this world. But you vividly remember the injuries that plagued you those first months, and the struggle to take care of yourself— washing your hair with a broken shoulder, eating your food with a fractured wrist. Most of all, you remember the loneliness of your hospital room. How you secretly sought his company; because despite your fear, his visits were better than the loud silence that filled your days. 

Sylus has been in this business for decades, has probably been injured like this far too many times to count. You think to yourself— how often has he had to go to sleep caked in blood, far too tired to care for himself? How many times has he faced the aching loneliness after a mission gone wrong?

So, you resolve to stick by him despite his insistence that he can handle it. You know his injuries will only linger for another day at most, but still, you survey him with a keen eye, spotting the flinch of his shoulders when he tries to reach for the painkillers on his shelf. You clock the injury even if he hasn’t mentioned the pain– and it leads to you sitting by the edge of the tub, washing his hair for him.

“I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” He shrugs you off, his words less biting than he intended under the influence of his medication, “This is nothing new to me.”

“I know very well how capable you are, but it doesn’t mean you have to take care of yourself alone.” You pester him some more, and he begrudgingly hands you his shampoo. You squeeze out a dollop and gently run the foam through his hair, thoroughly covering every spot. You hold back a giggle; he looks like a tamed lion, eyes shut in bliss as you massage the sides of his head.

When he comes out of the bathroom, robed and bandaged, he’s just about ready to knock out. You stay by his side through the night as he recovers, listening to hitched breaths and deluded murmurs about a time long past. The whisper of an ever-so-familiar name. The analog clock ticks every second, and it only solidifies the knowledge that your time by his side is limited. Things have been going far too well; but soon enough, your world will be upended again. 

You grip his hand in yours throughout the night. But it’s not your hand to hold. 

—————————————————————

The prophecy fulfills itself on the tenth day of January, marking a year since you first entered this world. The whole base knows exactly what day it is, and you feel them handling you with more care, treating you like a bomb about to detonate. It bothers you. It’s not as if you’re made out of glass (even if you feel you’re about to shatter at any moment). On your break, you decide to leave for the rooftop for a brief reprieve. 

When you return, the phone rings, and it’s as if god has chosen to send a punchline your way.

You wish you didn’t answer the phone. You wish you didn’t speak to the business associate who held the information Sylus was apparently desperate for. You wish you didn’t have to inform him of the cryptic news. You wish you weren’t there in the office when an underling comes to deploy the intel. Because it only confirmed what you knew all along was coming: a hunter with a protocore in her heart.

Her picture is projected in a hologram, and somehow, you automatically know it’s her. It’s uncanny, how alike the two of you look. From the corner of your eye, you even see Sylus do a double-take as the image fully renders. Maybe if the situation was different, you would’ve wondered at the physics of it all. Maybe you would have been more hungry to understand the science behind how you ended up here, to understand the connection between you and the hunter. But your curiosity has been overshadowed by heartbreak.

You know what’s coming. You know the end of your time here is nearing. The past year has lulled you into a false sense of security, one you desperately tried to believe in— but you can’t. You’re no longer the glass half-full kind of person you once were. Life chewed you up and spat you out to fend for yourself in this new world, and you know your hopes will only get crushed. Because seeing the longing and disbelief in his eyes, as he comes to terms with his lover being within reach; it only cements the fact that you have no chance. Never had a chance. 

(Already, you can feel a love that was never yours slipping from your grasp.)

You feel the change in the air the next few days, and you’re suffocated by it. You find yourself growing lonelier; this compound never seemed so large and empty before. Luke and Kieran become busier than ever, collecting information on the hunter while going about their usual responsibilities. Even Mephisto is out on the field, with the new task of following (or rather, stalking) his new target.

Sylus has sent the headquarters into a frenzy for this woman— but you? He has you go about as usual. No extra responsibilities, like he wants you to remain untouched by the business of his past love. (It’s far too late for that.) Rather, it seems he’s actively seeking you out. On days where he isn’t spent with the task of balancing his search with his regular Onychinus duties, he seems to gravitate towards you, looking for any excuse to be in your company.

But you? You try desperately to avoid him. You sneak around him like a mouse in a cat’s territory, stepping around glass and limiting your interactions to work, treating him with an amicable professionalism. It's like a cold glass of water has been poured over him. Even when you two were no better than strangers, you had never treated him so clinically. You can tell he’s hurt and confused by your behavior, but you shove down the guilt— because this is what you need to do to protect your heart. 

At some point, he eventually manages to catch you, pulling you aside with the ominous words no one wants to hear, “Dear, I think we should talk.” 

Your eyes well up in tears but you try your best to blink it away. It’s one thing to know, another to be confronted by it. The knowledge that what you have can’t continue is already ruining you, and you think you might break if he voices into existence. “What's there to talk about? What you’ve always wanted is almost in your hands.”

Sylus flinches at the total defeat in your voice. He can feel that you’re putting up boundaries with him— ones that he should’ve held in place, with how his heart is already taken by another. But little by little you crept into his life, into his heart, carving your place in it. And now, he doesn’t know what to do with the pain of you closing yourself off from him. 

But like always, you smile and try to soften the blow, “It’s okay, Sylus. I'm happy for you. I mean it,” You lie through your teeth. Despite how much pain this forced happiness inflicts on you, you will never have it in you to purposefully hurt him.

—————————————————————

Over the span of a year, you had become one of Sylus's closest confidants. He treats you with all the gentleness and care in the world, revealing to you softer sides of him— ones that you knew existed in the game, and ones that you discovered for yourself. You feel honored that he trusts you with these facets of himself, but you also feel a tremendous guilt. 

Because what Sylus doesn’t know is that he was your favorite. Facing burnout in your final year of university, you began to cope with a game suggested to you, becoming engrossed with one of its newest characters. He'd drawn you to him with his soft treatment of the main character, juxtaposed with his violent nature and line of work. Your heart had fluttered at every tender moment, each call and text message, each appearance in the main story. You had passingly indulged in the delusions of romance with a fictional man, a small part of your day to cope with the struggles of your reality. 

When you landed in this world, there was a cognitive dissonance as you came to terms with the difference between the 2D character that lived on your phone screen and the living, breathing person in front of you. For a long time, you were too focused on your new situation to even think of the implications of your fictional crush being in close, real proximity. He hadn’t trusted you, either. You could feel his suspicion in each interaction, as he contemplated what to make of you. 

At the time, you thought that by now, surely you would have woken up from this coma-induced hallucination already. Surely you would have woken back up in your reality. But as you grew to accept that the situation you’re in is as real as the blood that runs through your veins, came to terms with the likelihood that you may be stuck there for the foreseeable future— before you knew it, he had crept into your heart. 

You don’t know when it started. All you know is that his presence in your life is more than the surface-level distraction it once was in your reality. No, Sylus— the living person who offered you a place in this world, who indulged you in your lowest moments, who makes your heart race like no other— has you wrapped around his finger. He could ask anything of you, and your heart could do nothing but surrender to his whims. 

But in the back of your head, always lurking, is the distant reminder of the main character. The vivacious hunter whose life is tied to his. The other half of his soul. She looms in the background of every moment, a constant reminder of what you cannot have. There’s no chance you could ever come between something destined by the universe itself, so you yield in the face of their cosmic love. You shove away your feelings and resign yourself to finding a way back home, desperately, before this world forces you to lose a love you never even had. 

—————————————————————

What you don’t know is that he’s desperately blocking off every potential lead back to your world, not wanting to face a reality where you are not in his life. 

He finds himself conflicted, because his soul is tied to her. His sorcerer now reborn as the hunter, his soulmate, the one he has yearned for for what feels like a millenia. But here you are, his lovely secretary, the woman who forces him into mundane festivities and stays by his side for all his highs and all his lows. His love for his soulmate was forged in fire and blood; but this? This new love is bathed under golden light, born out of mutual care and an unexpected connection.

He has tried to keep his thoughts loyal and true to the love he has been seeking for centuries— but he can no longer deny the pull he feels towards you. The two images war in his head; the dragon roaring at how distracted he’s become from searching for his mate, and the man, falling fast and hard for a woman from another world, brought to him by pure fate.

His search for his long-lost love continues, but alongside it are his attempts to tie you down to his world, to keep you in his grasp. Because he cannot, will not, live without you.

He will watch the world burn before he lets it take another love away from him again.

—————————————————————

It all comes to a head when you hear a familiar voice raging through the corridors, wrecking a storm through the compound as she is brought here unwillingly. Sylus and the twins coming back with the hunter— bloody and bruised from her disastrous entry into the N109 Zone. Here it is. Your time is up.

For two people who are often so shamelessly true to themselves, both you and Sylus are the type whose true feelings are never encapsulated by mere words, whose eyes speak more of their soul than sentences ever could. Knowing this, you avoid his eyes. You shield your hurt in forced happiness, as he hides his internal conflict behind a cold veneer. 

The two of you continue in this cycle of push and pull, of moving closer but not close enough. You live in a limbo, desperately searching for ways to get home before the main storyline catches up to you. Haunted by the narrative, you two move in and out of each other’s orbit, just out of reach. Just out of bounds.

—————————————————————

for any reveluvs here, i listened to night drive the whole time i was writing the motorcycle scene<33 (for non-reveluvs u should go check it out its an absolute banger) also, SYLUS’S BDAY MEMORY 🥹 his bday scene in the previous chapter is no longer canon-compliant considering the event story… (like UGH ofc this man never told anyone 😩) but i do find it funny how in this story the reader is the one who hides it from him; taste of his own medicine LOL. i headcanon that she remembered his bday from the game and shocked him to his bones when he saw the exact date plotted on their calendar

feel free to dm/comment on the series masterlist if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist 💕

taglist — @mangooes @mentaltrouble2201 @animegamerfox @crazy-ink-artist @phisen @jeondyy @t4naiis @wifunozomi @munimunni @blessdunrest @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @paintedperidot @mansonofmadness @pillarofsnow @sylususeyourevolonmepls @angelichiaro @mephisto-with-a-knife @crimsonmarabou @hikaru-sama @flamedancer13 @tati-the-fangirl @ameili @poptrim @caramelizedpopcirn @cupid-gene @vvonunie @lunia-likes-pomegranet @iamawkwardandshy @tinyweebsstuff @astolary @vyntheria @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @velourmobius @beaconsxd @hon3yydew @kira-loves0905 @codedove @that-lost-one @colonelcalebs-pipsqueak @kaiii07 @bohoooitsme @everythingistaken00 @rmjace @red-raf-sy @goddexxluv @seris-the-amious @stellisangelicus-world @alhaith4ms @young-adult-summer @junrui

comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 .    (  a collection of  dialogue prompts centered around saying "please".   feel free to modify phrasing as desired.  )

please just be honest with me.

oh, please explain how this is my fault.

please don't look at me like that.

please, let's not do this here.

for once, could you please stop pretending?

please just kiss me, i can't stand it.

please don't walk away from this.

all you have to do is say please.

please, i dare you to try and stop me.

please don't tell anyone i said that.

i said please, so technically you have to say yes.

please tell me you brought snacks.

please don't take this the wrong way.

please, i've waited so long to hear you say it.

i said i'm fine, please just drop it.

please don't lie just to make me feel better.

please don't judge me for what i'm about to do.

please just let me help you.

if you love me, say it. please.

just stay here with me all day. pleaase?

please don't ruin this for me.

please just leave me out of it.

tell me you love me ... please.

can you please slow down?

please tell me there's still a chance.

can you please just get some sleep?

please, i don't want to lose you again.

i'm not asking– i'm begging you. please.

please don't make fun of me.

i want you to leave. please leave right now.

please, it's nothing.

i don't like to beg, but... please.

pleaase? i promise it'll be fun.

tell me it's a lie. please.

come on, please? just this once?

please don't jump to assumptions.

please, [ name ], just stay here.

you promised ... please.

please. i need you to trust me.

please don't go.

i know i don't deserve it, but please forgive me.

please, let me fix this.

did i hear a 'please' in there somewhere?

please. one more minute, that's all i'm asking.

oh please, as if you've never done it.

don't ask me to choose. please.

please don't tell them where i am.

saying 'please' over and over won't change my mind.

please? ... pretty please?

please don't make me beg.

please tell me i'm wrong.

can you please give me a hand with this?

[formulaonecrumbs]

thirteen days and my thirteenth reason ✍️

Lando Norris x depressed!reader

summary: she’s drowning under exam pressure, but lando stays beside her through it all.

warnings: established relationship, depression, burnout, academic pressure, comfort

A/N: this is the most self-indulgent fic i have EVER written. it’s based off my exact situation so if it seems specific uhhh that’s why. i literally only have 12 days till these exams start (most imp of my life i think) and i haven’t began studying for a single subject KILL ME. ADHD paralysis is real asf 😔😔 i originally wrote this only so i’d feel motivated to actually study but it didn’t work so now i’m posting it so it doesn’t go to waste ☺️ embarrassing to say but i will be coming back to read my own fic. i need it rn 😕 anyways enjoy lovies!! ❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the curtains hadn’t been opened in three days.

the floor was a mess—scattered notebooks, a few balled-up tissues, a hoodie half-hanging off the edge of the bed. her laptop sat untouched on the desk, still open to a study schedule she’d typed up with shaky hands three weeks ago. color-coded. hopeful. delusional.

it was thirteen days until her final exams. the most important ones of her life. everyone kept saying that. like she didn’t already know. like the weight of it wasn’t the reason she could barely lift her head off the pillow.

she’d meant to start studying two weeks ago. then one week ago. then yesterday. then this morning.

and now the sun was setting again, and she’d done nothing. absolutely nothing. just stared at the ceiling and tried not to cry. or did cry. she honestly couldn’t remember. it all blurred together now—hours and hours of feeling like she was stuck underwater while the world kept going on without her.

the front door opened.

she didn’t move.

“baby?”

lando’s voice was gentle. careful. like he already knew what kind of day it had been.

he was home earlier than she expected. that or her time perception was fairly off (it was. she thought it was sunday, it was tuesday). she heard the shuffle of his sneakers being kicked off, the clink of his keys on the counter, and then quiet footsteps down the hallway. the bedroom door creaked open slowly.

there was a pause.

then the bed dipped beside her.

she didn’t look at him.

lando didn’t say anything at first. he just lay there beside her, head propped up on his hand, eyes studying her profile in the dim light. she looked so small. in a pathetic i-can-barely-hold-myself-up kind of way. like the duvet was the only thing keeping her together.

finally, he spoke. “have you eaten?”

she shook her head. barely.

“studied?”

another shake.

lando sighed softly, but not in a disappointed way. more like it physically hurt him to see her like this. like the girl he loved—his girl, the one who once made him laugh so hard he spilled water out his nose—had been replaced by this quiet, heavy version of herself who barely spoke anymore.

he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. his fingers lingered against her cheek.

“talk to me,” he whispered. “please.”

her throat tightened.

“i can’t,” she said hoarsely. “i don’t know what to say.”

“say anything.”

“i feel like a failure.”

lando’s chest ached.

she blinked up at the ceiling, eyes glassy. “i have thirteen days. and i’ve done nothing. nothing. i’m so behind. i’m going to fail. and i don’t even care. that’s the worst part. i don’t care. i should care, but i just… don’t. and then i hate myself for not caring. and then i just lie here and do nothing again.”

her voice cracked on the last word.

lando didn’t try to fix it. not yet. he didn’t offer solutions or motivation or some inspirational quote he found online.

he just reached for her hand under the covers and held it tightly.

“you’re not a failure,” he said quietly.

she shook her head, tears slipping down her temples.

“you’re not,” he said again. “you’re burnt out. you’re exhausted. you’re scared. you’re human.”

she didn’t respond. just squeezed his hand tighter.

“you don’t have to pretend with me,” he murmured. “you don’t have to be okay.”

“i’m not.”

“i know.”

they lay there for a long time. eventually, he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his chest. she didn’t resist. just let herself fall into him, cheek pressed against his hoodie, fingers gripping the fabric like it might anchor her back to the world.

“i’ll help you,” he said into her hair. “we’ll figure it out. we’ll make a plan. we’ll break it into little pieces. you don’t have to do it all at once.”

she shook her head weakly. “i don’t think i can.”

“then we’ll start with something small. just one thing.”

she didn’t say anything.

“we’ll do it together,” he promised. “and if all you can do today is brush your teeth or drink some water, that’s enough. you’re enough.”

she exhaled a shaky breath.

“i’m so tired,” she whispered.

“then rest,” he said. “you’re allowed to rest.”

he didn’t leave her side. not for the rest of the night. he ordered takeout—her favorite. he brought her a glass of water and sat beside her while she drank it slowly, like every sip was a mountain climbed. he helped her brush her hair when she couldn’t lift her arms without trembling. and when she finally crawled out from under the covers to shower, he waited outside the bathroom just in case.

the next morning, he woke her with a soft kiss to her forehead and a sticky note stuck to the lamp that said:

baby steps.

she sat up.

she opened her laptop.

and for the first time in weeks, she tried.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

four days in, she was already starting to fray at the edges.

it wasn’t that she wasn’t trying. for the first time in a while she was. she’d stuck to the plan—lando’s plan, the one he’d helped her make with gentle hands and sleepy morning kisses and a color-coded spreadsheet that didn’t feel like it was out to kill her. one subject per day. built-in breaks. kind reminders written on sticky notes in his handwriting like: you’re doing amazing and five minutes of dancing > five minutes of crying.

but trying didn’t mean it was easy.

especially not tonight.

she’d been sitting at the kitchen table for two hours now, blinking at the same paragraph in her textbook without actually reading a word. her brain was buzzing, her back ached, and the weight of everything—every page she hadn’t read, every topic she didn’t understand, every second slipping by too fast—was pressing against her chest like a vice.

her eyes burned.

her fingers curled into fists in her lap.

and then, just like that, it snapped.

a single sob cracked out of her like a warning shot, and then the floodgates opened.

she pushed the textbook away with trembling hands and dropped her head onto the table, tears slipping fast and hot down her cheeks, shoulders shaking. she didn’t even try to stop it. she couldn’t. all the pressure she’d been holding in for days, weeks—it came pouring out like it had been waiting for this exact moment to break her.

“fuck,” she whispered. “fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“hey—hey, hey.”

lando’s voice was soft but immediate.

she hadn’t even heard him come in.

he crossed the room in two seconds, dropping to his knees beside her chair and cupping her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears even as more fell.

“what happened?” he whispered.

she tried to talk, but it came out in a choked sob.

“breathe,” he said, gently. “deep breath. c’mon, baby. with me.”

he inhaled slow and deep. she tried to follow. couldn’t quite get there. tried again.

“that’s it. good girl. again.”

a few breaths later, her chest started to ease—just a little.

“i can’t do it,” she whispered, voice shaking. “i can’t—i don’t know anything, i’m so behind—“

“hey,” he interrupted, rubbing her arm. “no. don’t say that. you’ve been doing so well. i’ve seen you.”

“but it’s not enough—there’s too much—and i’m so tired, lando. i can’t think straight. i feel like my brain is broken—”

“it’s not,” he said immediately. “you’re not broken. you’re overwhelmed. you’re exhausted. and you’ve been pushing through it like a fucking warrior.”

she sniffled.

“you don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” he added. “not to me. not to anyone else. not even to yourself. you’re already enough, just like this.”

“but the exams—”

“will come. and we’ll face them. one question at a time. one hour at a time. but not like this. not when you’re this close to burning out.”

he pulled her into a hug—tight, grounding, real. she clung to him like a lifeline.

“you’re not alone, okay?” he murmured into her hair. “you’ve got me. always.”

they stayed like that for a while, her tears slowly soaking into the shoulder of his hoodie.

eventually, she pulled back just enough to whisper, “i’m sorry.”

he frowned. “for what?”

“for falling apart.”

“baby,” he said, brushing his nose against hers. “falling apart doesn’t scare me. not when it’s you. not when i love you.”

her lip trembled.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time,” he whispered. “sometimes being strong is letting yourself break and asking someone else to help you pick up the pieces.”

she nodded, barely.

“come on,” he said softly, standing and tugging her up with him. “no more tonight. you need rest.”

“but—”

“i’ll quiz you in the morning,” he promised. “i’ll make flashcards and everything. but right now, you need to lie down. cuddle quota’s running low.”

she cracked the tiniest smile through the tears. “that’s not a real thing.”

“sure it is,” he said, leading her to the couch and pulling a blanket over the both of them. “mandatory. doctor’s orders.”

she curled into his chest, still aching, still overwhelmed—but held. safe.

and for the first time in hours, her breathing slowed.

lando pressed a kiss to her temple. “we’ll get through it, baby. together.”

THE END :>

[mimikittysblog]

♡09:32♡

Pairing: Poly! Ateez x Fem! Reader

Genre: Super duper fluff!

Warnings: Besides being barely proofread and having some slight MxM, nothing really. Though if I miss anything please let me know!

A/N: Sooooo it was my birthday a few days ago! And I’ve made other birthday stories before with other groups I decided it’s time Ateez gets one too! This is 10000% just a writer insert lol but I do still hope you can enjoy it! (Also not the biggest fan of the ending hehe but oh well 😅) Thank you all as well for getting me to over 500 followers! I love you all so so much 🥹💕

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Okay breakfast is ready! You can wake her up now!” Wooyoung announced.

“I’m sure she’s about to wake up soon.” San replies, reminding his boyfriend that you are usually up by now.

“Hmm I wouldn’t be so sure, I went back to the room like ten minutes ago and she’s still conked out.” Yunho says softly.

“She did have a rough day yesterday.” Jongho reminds them.

Yesterday for work you took the children of your school on a field trip. While almost all of your students were absolute angels, when it comes to field trips, their adrenaline gets heightened drastically. Which results in them being a lot to say the least.

“And on the day before her birthday too.” Hongjoong chuckles.

Yes!! It is in fact your birthday today! And since it’s your first birthday together with all of your boyfriends, they wanted to do something super special for you. So they all were able to convince the company to give them a day off today, as they have finished their tour too.

It’s because not only did they want to spend the entire day with you, they also planned you a surprise birthday party! First Wooyoung made you your favorite breakfast, then Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Mingi are gonna take you out on a shopping trip. After that they’re gonna escort you to lunch with your best friends.

Once lunch is over Yunho and Yeosang are gonna show up and take you to get your nails done. All of this is so the rest of them can spend the whole time getting the apartment decorated for the party. Perfect plan! Nothing will go wrong! First you need to wake up!

“Sooo who’s gonna wake her up?” Seonghwa asks.

“God she must be so tired.. maybe we should let her sleep more?” Mingi suggest.

“Noooo the plaaaann…” Wooyoung pouts.

“What plan?”

Your boyfriends then quickly whipped their head around to see the cutest sight ever.

You standing there in one of their hoodies, while rubbing your eyes with your sweater paws. Your hair was slightly messy and your cheeks flushed clearly you just woken up not even 3 minutes ago.

Oh their hearts could burst at how cute you are.

After the slight cuteness attack they all snapped back and realized you’re finally awake.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY!!” They cheered.

At the volume of their cheer it did cause you to jump back a bit. ‘Causing all of them to giggle. You recovered quickly though and then smiled at them.

“Hehehhe thank youuuuuu!!” You say before jogging to them with your arms open. Very clearly wanting a big group hug. Which they’re more than happy to give you.

“Heheh it’s our pretty princess’s special day!!” Wooyoung exclaims.

“Mhm! That means special breakfast!!” Yeosang added.

“Special breakfast?” You tilt your head.

“Made by yours truly!!!” Wooyoung exclaims once more before dragging you to the kitchen.

Your eyes widens to see all your favorite foods and just how much there are. Seeing it all and you turn to you boyfriends seeing their happy excited faces you knew this will be one of your best birthdays ever.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Will you pleaaaaseee tell me where we’re gooooing?” You whine playfully from the backseat.

Then nudging Hongjoong’s shoulder with your head with a soft bonk.

“You’ll see soon birthday girl.” Hongjoong laughs keeping his eyes on the road.

“Hmph!” You pout.

“Oh don’t be so grumpy! You’re gonna love it!” Mingi then scolds as he squeezes your hand softly.

Soon enough you see your favorite mall in the distance.

“Oh ohh!! Are you taking me shopping?” You ask excitedly.

“Bingo!”

You cheer loudly as it’s been a while since you had the time to do so. And you knew your fashion forward boyfriends would absolutely love helping you pick pretty outfits.

“We have more planned for you too but you’ll just have to wait and see!” Seonghwa tells you.

After parking the car, you four all went inside and immediately took you to your favorite stores. Plus some new ones that have just opened up. For the next few hours your conversations mainly consists of:

“Oh darling you would look so pretty in this!”

“Honey this is so your style!”

“This would look so good with the top you just got!”

“Wahh you’re so gorgeous in this dress!”

And hey you’re not complaining. Well… you did complain a bit at how they’re constantly paying for you (like they almost always do.) But they and yourself reasoned it was your birthday so you deserved it. To them you deserved it much more than you usually do. ‘Cause they almost never let you pay. But especially not on your birthday.

“Hungry darling?” Seonghwa then asks you after leaving another store.

“Hmmm yes! Very!”

“Then let’s go get lunch!” He says as he takes you and the rest to your favorite restaurant.

“Ah yes my favorite!” You giggle as you approach the restaurant and when you entered it you gasped.

“Surprise!!!! Happy birthday!”

There you see, your group of friends all sitting there at a table waiting for you.

You were so incredibly happy to see them. You’ve all been so busy with work that you just never had the chance to meet up. You excitedly ran to them and gave them all a big hug. Where they all wished you a happy birthday once again. You then turned to your boyfriends where they all had a big prideful smile.

They soon approached where you thanked them profusely.

“It’s no problem darling. Okay so we are gonna take most of these new clothes home, and after you’re done with lunch Yunho and Sangie are gonna pick you up okay?” Hongjoong explains.

“Oh? What about you three? You’re not eating?” You pout.

“Don’t worry darling we’ll eat at home, we want you to enjoy your time with your friends.” Mingi added.

“Thank you thank you!! Absolute best boyfriends in the world!” You say proudly giving them all a sweet kiss.

“You’re welcome princess. Enjoy your meal and time!” Seonghwa tells you before turning to your friends. “We’re gonna leave now, take care of our girl for us!”

“Don’t worry lover boys we wiiiill!” One of your friends reply.

“I love youuuu!” You say one last time as you hugged them goodbye tightly.

They all told you they loved you too and left with the majority of your bags of new clothes.

“Oof girl you’re one lucky bitch to have them wrapped around your finger.” Another friend of your jokes.

“All eight! Of them!” They all laugh.

You can only giggle as you watched from afar as your boyfriends walked away.

“Yeah. I am.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“We’re hooooommeee!” Seonghwa announced.

“OH GOOD! Help Sannie with the decorations pleeeaseeee!! He’s being too indecisive.” Yunho pleads as his three boyfriends arrived home.

“IT NEEDS TO BE PERFECT!” Sannie whines somewhere in the apartment.

They all laugh at their boyfriend’s silly antics before Seonghwa rushes to wherever San is to help, yelling out a sweet “Comiiiingg!”

“Wow she bought a lot huh?” Jongho says as he notices the tens of bags that they have.

“Correction! They bought a lot.” Yunho counters with a cheeky smile.

“Like hell we’re only getting her a couple of things for her birthday!” Mingi argues.

“And she looked pretty in all of them! How could we ever just leave them at the store?” Hongjoong added.

“SHAME ON YOU FOR NOT SENDING PICTURES!!” Wooyoung chastises suddenly from the kitchen. “AND MINGI GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE I NEED HELP!”

Yunho then takes the bags from Mingi’s hands as he gives him a kiss on the cheek and tells him to ‘go help the chef.’

Mingi chuckles as he jogs into the kitchen.

“On my way darling!”

Yeosang then showed up and helped all of his boyfriends carry your new clothes to your room. They all rearranged the bags to make sure it wasn’t a mess but you could still organize the clothes how you wanted. While doing so, Hongjoong finally took notice at the outfits Yunho and Yeosang were wearing.

“Oh you two look really good.” He comments.

“Hmm? Thank you hyungie!” Yeosang says with his adorable smile and a twirl.

“Thank you hyung.” Yunho says as well. “We wanted to look the best for our princess.”

“You do. You two always look handsome. But yeah Princess has mentioned that you look the best in these outfits.” Hongjoong comments.

“Mhm! And hyung you’re also always handsome.” Yeosang mentions before giving Joong a kiss on the cheek.

Hongjoong can only blush before Yunho leans down, kisses his other cheek and whispers, “Always so handsome.”

Which only causes him to blush more.

“A-alright alright! Thank you, now go. Don’t you dare make her late for her nail appointment!”

The two chuckled loudly at their boyfriend’s red cheeks and starts walking hand in hand to the door.

“Wouldn’t dream of it our handsome hyung!! We’ll be back soon!” Yunho calls out.

“Remember to let us know when you’re on your way back!!!” Jongho reminds them. Yeosang then yells out an ‘okay’ and his parting words too before they leave the apartment.

Hongjoong can only chuckle before going around the apartment to see who else needs his help.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

You had a wonderful time with your friends. Catching up with all of them over some good food? What’s not to love? Once everyone was finished with their meal you flagged your waiter down to pay for the bill. Only for him to inform you that it was payed for. When you asked by who, he simply pointed to the register. There you see your two boyfriends were standing patiently waiting for you.

“Guess that’s your cue to leave.” Your friend chuckled.

“Damn girl they really spoil you huh?” Another joked.

“A little too much I would say.” You giggle as you touched up your make up before getting up to leave.

“Oh hush!!! Let them! The more they spoil you, the more you spoil us!”

You all laugh with you rolling your eyes sarcastically.

Your friend then wish you a happy birthday once more before bidding you a goodbye. Not wanting to keep you away from your boyfriends any longer. Soon you were skipping happily to your boys then engulfing them in a big hug.

“Hi birthday girl. Enjoyed your lunch?” Yunho asks.

“Mhm! So much!”

“We’re glad.”

You giggled before giving them each a kiss.

“So you’re taking me home now?”

“Not quite!” Yeosang says. “We’re actually booked you a nail appointment! So we’re gonna take you there now!”

Hearing that you squealed in happiness and thanked them repeatedly. It’s been so long since you had a proper manicure and some pretty nail art so you were beyond excited!

They then happily took you to your favorite nail salon. They actually helped you with choosing a design as well. The salon was almost empty actually so they could sit next to you throughout the entire process, conversing with you throughout.

Though without you noticing the rest of your boyfriends that were at home were asking of your whereabouts.

Jongho: Is she almost done??

Wooyoung: Show us the nailsss!!!

Yeosang: [sent 1 image]

Seonghwa: Oh she looks so happy 🥹

Yunho: She is! 🥰

Hongjoong: Be safe when coming home and let us know when you’re arriving!

Yeosang: Yes yes we will! We’re about to pay and leave now!

“Thank you soooo much my loves! Look at how cute these areee! Thank youuuu!” You thank them again. So incredibly happy at the results and just at the day in general.

“You’re welcome sweetheart.” Yunho says softly. Your boys then went to go pay before leading you back to the car ready to take you home and to the final surprise.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Okay! They’re here!! In positions everyone!” Jongho announces as he gets into his hiding spot. Everyone then follows suit and waits patiently for you to enter the apartment.

Soon enough they hear the door start to unlock and the excitement in the room skyrockets. So as soon as the door opens and you enter first they all burst out of their hiding spots.

“SURPRISEEEE!” They yell. Along with some throwing confetti in the air while others were holding balloons.

When you saw them you smiled so brightly and giggled.

“Oh my booooyyys!!! Thank you so so muchh!! Omg the apartment looks so cute!” You say full of joy. You then sprinted into the apartment to get a better look at all the decorations. “Aaahhh!! I love it!!! Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome princess. You deserve the best!” San says.

“Oh I’m so hap- FOOOOD!”

As you were speaking you took a glance into the kitchen and saw the array of your favorite foods once again and a big birthday cake in the middle.

“Oh my sweet, sweet boys… Thank you!!”

“Oh enough thanking us! Lets eat hmmm? Then lets put on some music and celebrate!” Seonghwa says before pushing everyone into the kitchen too.

At that you all sat down where you lovely boyfriends all made sure you tasted everything and that your stomach was as full as it could be (without hurting you.) In the middle of eating San then turned to you.

“Were you expecting us to do this for you? Were you that surprised hmm??” He asks just wanting to hear they all did a good job at surprising you.

You giggled at his adorable face and even gave his cheek a light pinch before nodding. “Nope! Well I was hoping you guys would take me out to dinner or something but I didn’t expect all of this! So yes I was surprised.” You explain.

Though while thinking back Jongho, ever the observer, noticed that when you walked through the door you weren’t that surprised. You were happy! But it looked like you were more curious rather than unsuspecting.

“Really?” Jongho then asks. “Cause you didn’t look as surprised as you usually are love.” He added.

“Hmm? Oh well! I’m surprised you planned all this out for me! And how much effort you put into this party hehe! I expected a balloon or two but this is a lot. Though I kinda figured out you were planning something like this when- …nevermind.” You cut yourself off.

“Wait What?? Did someone spill the beans?!” Wooyoung accuses.

“No no it’s nothing!” You try to save yourself.

“Alright who gave it away??” Mingi asks.

“Guys it’s fine!!!”

“Noooo! Who did it?” San asks with a pout.

“Well… uhm…” You try to find a way out of this but then sighs. “Just.. check our group chat.” You finally revealed with a soft chuckle.

They all rush to take out their phones to open the group chat. The one with you in it.

Yeosang: Okay we’re about to reach the door! Get ready!

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that, that probably was meant for a group chat I wasn’t in.” You say softly with a little giggle.

Suddenly you hear a thump. It was Yeosang who flopped his head down onto the table in embarrassment.

“YEOSAAANNGGG!” Wooyoung whines loudly.

“Oh leave him aloneeeee!!”

“He ruined the surprise!”

“He didn’t ruin anything! I told you I was still surprised didn’t I?? And I only saw that messaged like minutes before we reached the door so it didn’t make that much of a difference! Please don’t be mad at our sangie!” You say as you rush to where Yeosang was sitting and giving him a hug from behind. “He was just excited and texted the wrong chat.”

He then sat up with a big pout and nodded.

“I’m sorry guys..”

“Hush! No apologizing! You did nothing wrong okay?!”

San then reached over to pat Yeosang’s head. “It’s really okay sangie.” He says softly.

“Okay okay, no more chastising Yeosang hyung per request of the birthday girl!” Jongho then says.

“Thank youuu!”

“Besides you still have to blow out your candles and cut your cake baby!” Hongjoong tells you.

You quickly nodded and sat back down. They then lit the candles as they sang happy birthday to you.

That’s when you closed your eyes to make your wish.

A happy life with them until my very last birthday. No matter what comes my way I want to have them by my side. Always.

As you made this wish a single tear rolled down your cheek before you opened your eyes and blew out the candle.

“Oh darling.. what’s wrong?” Yunho asks as he softly wipes the tear away.

You smile at him and then at all of your precious boyfriends. Your precious boyfriends who took the time and effort out of their unreasonably busy schedules just to make sure you had a wonderful birthday.

Lord how lucky you are. You actually get so emotional that more tears start to flow and you let out a small sob. Your boys quickly coo you and move closer, worried they’ve done something wrong.

“Happy..” You whisper slightly before asking them all to give you a big hug.

They all chuckle at how precious you are and just so relieved to realize that the tears are happy tears.

“I love you all so much. Thank you for everything. I couldn’t have wished for a better birthday.”

“We love you too.” Seonghwa whispers.

After the long hug you tell them you’d like some cake now and then night continues on with some drinks, music, dancing and laughs. You truly couldn’t be happier on your special day and it was all thanks to your 8 special boys.

This was indeed the best birthday you’ve ever head.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

© mimikittysblog 2025

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[keijisdolll]

#K. AKAASHI |

NSFW ( ＾◡＾)っ✂╰⋃╯

blurred lines . . . ❤︎

(i wrote this rly late at night so it kinda switches between second and third person + its my first time... dont mind pls ⛄︎)

to say you and keiji were just friends was a little... vague to say the least.

not even a little, absolute bullshit.

you two go way back; always at one another's homes every saturday or friday night, playing games with kotaro or just binging movies together- all that cute stuff. obviously, you two love each other, dare i say are in love with each other, but it's just never been a point of discussion. despite all the stolen glances, his obsession with kissing the top of your head or holding your hips, you guys have just … never talked about it.

it's not that you didn't want to talk about it, you wanted more than anything to do unspeakable things to that man for years now...who wouldn't?

but of course, all you could do every passing day was pray that something could magically change and you'd have his affection and sweet words to yourself every day. he probably has his reasons too for not just folding and confessing already. hopefully if he even reciprocates.

but when he asked you to be his roommate and share a dorm with him two years ago at the beginning of university, how could you tell someone so pretty no?

that pretty much never helped the increasing tension between you both - sexually, or romantically.... but hey, the no confessions game was still going strong.

even now, when keiji just returned back to your shared dorm from one of his later classes, he found you laid out on the plushness of the couch, your cutely decorated laptop resting on your bare thighs as you were wearing a cute pair of pajama shorts. a few short sentences on the illuminated screen of your laptop which screams to him that you were probably just assigned a research paper.

"new paper assigned n/n?" he hummed softly as he rested his bag on the floor near the door and taking off his shoes.

"mm yeah... only thing is that it's due in 2 days.." she huffed softly with a little pout, a face he knew meant she was stressed.

"yeah? how much words is it?" he hummed softly, sitting next to her laid body on the couch.

y/n turned her laptop to an angle keiji can see it, an email from her professor which explained her prompt and the word count.

damn.

"only two days? that has to be a mistake." he raised his brows, adjusting his glasses.

"its not..." she sighed softly. "i asked him about it in class. he was dead serious keiji...my grade is so done. i don't even know what to write about. all i got done was the context." y/n turned to him, a pout on her lips.

he sighed, "calm down, okay? stressing out this much isn't gonna help you n/n." his hand went to her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the apple of her cheek. damn him and his charm.

"come here, i'll help you." he murmured, his arms gently taking her arms to help her sit up and come up onto his lap.

and around 3 hours later, despite the evident exhaustion in both of you from this damn essay, you were a little more than half way through the word count.

"god...you're the best keiji..." she sighed softly, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

he chuckled, a familiar one that never really failed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach. "can't have my favorite girl stressing now can i?" he ruffled her hair gently.

holy fuck.

why he made her sit in his lap was beyond her. all she knew was that his little name that he just called her made her clench around absolutely nothing, and she was so sick of this back and forth of trying to act like he didn't have an effect on her.

so she purposely squirmed on his lap while pretending to read an article, her ass moving teasingly but in a subtle way. she knew her subtle grinding didn't by any means go unnoticed by him, not how his slender fingers dug a little harder into her hips, and definitely not how his breathing grew more ragged.

"hey... n/n... you're squirming a little...please... it's distracting me..." he spoke with a strained voice, trying not to breathe noticeably.

"hm..?" she looked back at him, who knew how worked up subtle grinding can get him, his cheeks were insanely flushed, his fingers uncontrollably going on her bare thighs.

"come... get off n/n-" he panicked a little, his arms pulling up her torso to pick her up and trying to place her back onto the couch, but she went right back down, on his fucking bulge.

"oh fuck.." he choked out quietly his head going back against the arm rest.

"you're that hard from me barely even grinding?" she started. no turning back now for her. and to her surprise, all those years of chasing and wondering if he wanted her back... she felt so relieved from his next words.

"i can't fucking help it with you.." he swore helplessly. his needy hands guiding her hips to rub herself against his obvious bulge. "all this time and you don't think that i've been wanting to kiss you senseless since highschool..?"

and from that, her lips were on his, sharing wet and sloppy kisses that were making him leak pre cum into his sweatpants. grinding on his lap so nicely that she had him cursing into their sloppy kiss.

they eventually pulled away, a thin string of saliva between their mouths as her arms came up around his neck to steady herself as she ground on his bulge. gosh, his fucking print was so visible to her too from his sweatpants.

"fuck...i love you keiji.."

and within less than two minutes, your cute pajama shorts laid on the floor of your bedroom along with his sweatpants.

his hand held a handful of your hair while his other rested on the plush curve of your ass. his hips were thrusting so good into your drenched cunt, the room practically filled with the sound of your plush ass slapping against his hips and your muffled moans as he just sweet talked you.

damm him.

"god... you dont know how long i wanted to fuck you.." he panted into your ear, his skin slick with sweat

"keiji..." she cried helplessly beneath him.

"mhm baby... i got you...taking my cock so well." he murmured, his large hand squeezing her ass softly.

"you're so fucking pretty n/n, you know that?" he mumbled, placing sweet kisses and sucking hickeys onto her neck, his thrusts getting harder.

she couldn't even form a coherent sentence anymore. it's not like he was being crazy rough, but his cock was fucking long. and at a moderate, more fast pace like what he was doing, she felt as if she was seeing stars.

"ah...mmph..." she moaned sweetly into the pillow, knowing he was about to cum from how sloppy his thrusts were getting.

"mmh... there you go... oh fuck baby.." he panted, pulling out. his hand that was holding your hair let go, pumping slowly as thick and hot cum landed on your plush ass.

she panted softly into the pillows, her hips lowering from where he held them up as she rolled onto her back, his cum on her skin getting onto the sheets.

he panted soflty, pulling her into his arms and pressing a gentle loving kiss on her shoulder, while mumbling a soft, "i've always loved you baby."

its my first time writing so pls leave tips jjfnjjngjngjngjtn

[hyperions-light]

(This is not a post about hating Solas, I love this character choice— it makes him so interesting! He is one of my faves— if you hate him, that’s fine and cool, but please don’t tell me about it on here. Thanks! )

Thinking about how good the consistent characterization of Solas as like

Apologizing and trying to fix things for /himself/, and to assuage his own (sometimes outsized) guilt is, and how it’s carried so effectively through the narrative in big + small ways

He apologizes to Imaginary!Varric, even though he knows it doesn’t mean anything. Lace has a banter with Taash where she says that he apologized to her for the dwarves not being able to dream during Inquisition, when she absolutely could NOT have known what he was actually doing

And then at the end, when he’s trying to take down the Veil, he’s doing that to assuage his own guilt, too— all of his arguments are about his own regrets. “If I stopped now, I would be dishonoring all the people I’ve wronged”—> the Inquisitor shows up and tells him that’s not the case. “If I stopped now, I would be destroying what Mythal wanted, and I would killed her for nothing”—> she shows up and tells him that’s not what’s going on. There’s a dialogue option for Rook where they say something like “tearing down the Veil is what YOU want. Making amends isn’t about what YOU want.”

He says he’s doing it for other people— and I think part of him believes that— but he shows over and over again that he’s doing it to make himself feel better about the things he’s actually done AND the things that he believes are his fault erroneously.

He says it was his fault Elgar’nan destroyed a type of spirit, because he failed to convince them to fight. He says it was his fault the Evanuris started using the Blight, because he was opposing them. He says it was his fault that the Evanuris killed Mythal, because he told her what they were doing and she confronted them.

But all of those things were the CHOICES of other people/beings. Mythal chose; the Evanuris chose; those spirits chose. By taking the blame for those actions he’s removing their agency in their own existences. (It’s the same thing Varric warns Rook against doing in the regret prison— he tells them that he and Harding/Davrin knew what they were doing, and CHOSE to do it. It isn’t Rook’s responsibility to take, because it’s insulting to them to remove their agency and to act like they didn’t make the sacrifice willingly.)

I think he’s probably not even thinking about it like that, because he perceives the fact that he contributed to the initial circumstances being what they were as him being completely responsible for everything that happened subsequently. And it’s easier for him to add that guilt to the rest of it and use it as more reason to keep going with his plan.

Varric says that he wants to be the hero, but it’s easier for him to believe he is the villain, because that means he hasn’t failed. If he’s the villain, then it’s okay for him to do things he views as objectively wrong in order to reach the end goal of making things “right”.

It’s okay for him to kill Felassan. It’s okay for him to use blood magic to manipulate Rook. It’s okay for him to lie to the Inquisitor; to kill Mythal, to kill Varric. He already feels so bad about so many things— what’s one more?

And tearing down the Veil is going to make it all worth it. I don’t know if he thinks it’s going to make him stop feeling guilty. I don’t know if he thinks of it as a sort of encompassing apology for everything he’s done. But I think that he’s doing it for himself, ultimately, and that the atonement ending is about taking away all of the excuses he’s built up— refusing to let the god of deception continue to deceive himself.

[lethalovers]

don’t leave , hamzah

warnings : angst & swearing

part two

enjoy !

“hamzah, please, you can’t just leave like this,” you sniffled, watching your boyfriend pack the remaining bits of his closet into his suitcase.

he said nothing, ignoring you as if you weren’t there, as if you were invisible. “hamzah, baby, please just talk to me,” you sighed while moving over to where he was seated on your shared bed. the closeness of your bodies made him visibly uncomfortable, quickly getting up and walking towards the closet.

prior to this, hamzah had sat you down, telling you that it was best for the both of you to break up. truth be told, the past month had been extremely rocky. the “i love you’s” had lessened, the physical touch had completely disappeared, and it seemed as though the only time the two of you spoke was when you asked each other if your cats, red and blue, had eaten.

you knew that the break up was coming, you mentally prepared yourself for it, but you didn’t expect for it to hurt as much as it did. the silence he gave ate you alive. it hurt knowing he couldn’t even look you in the face.

“for fuck’s sake hamzah, you can’t even look me straight in the fucking face. it’s like i don’t mean anything to you, like everything we shared meant nothing to you.” you stood up from your seat, crying out to get his attention. he stopped what he was doing, chuckling dryly as he turned around.

“what do you want me to say y/n? we both knew this was coming.” he sighed as he tilted his head to the side, clearly uninterested in having this conversation with you, or any conversation at all for that matter.

“tell me that it wasn’t nothing to you. just tell me something!” you wiped your tears, feeling a tug in your heart seeing how nonchalant he was acting throughout this entire ordeal.

“you know the answer to that.”

“do i? do i really?” you sobbed, the weight of the situation finally settling in as the suppressed emotions finally came out in the form of a sob. for a moment, you swear you saw whatever wall he had put up come down, his face falling as he watched you, his girl, crying.

“y/n, please don’t make this harder than it already is. please.” he looked down at you, pulling you into his embrace. you sobbed into his chest, gripping onto his shirt, not wanting to let go because you knew when you did, he would leave.

he looked around your shared bedroom, stopping to stare at the picture of the two of you taken in paris. life seemed so simple then, you both seemed so content with each other. the memories of when you both started dating, when you both had sex for the first time, when you met each others parents for the first time had all resurfaced at once. his eyes swelled with tears, but he quickly blinked them away. “i don’t want you to go.” you croaked out between sobs.

he cleared his throat, pulling you away from his embrace. he picked up his bags and began walking out of your shared bedroom. he didn’t even look back at you, he couldn’t find the courage to face you as he heard you cry. “hamzah,” you cried out as you quickly followed behind. “hamzah, no.”

hamzah never turned around, his gaze fixated on the door to your shared apartment. your sobs seemed to have no affect on him, not like how they did before. before he would have done anything in his power to make you feel better, but now it’s like he was a completely different person. he dropped his keys into the small basket located right next to the door, right next to your keys, and before you could even react he was out of the door before you could protest any further. the door slammed in your face and all you could do was sob.

the man you loved was gone. it seemed like he had no remorse for your feelings. he made leaving seem so easy. but, deep down it was eating at him too.

[prettycalla]

|| adversus ||

Pairing: Caracalla/Reader

Summary: Caracalla discovers that you bleed. He is fascinated by it.

Word count: 799

Tags and warnings: Light smut, reader has a period, Caracalla is a little freak about it (big surprise) but it's all consensual, reader and Caracalla are soft for each other, no use of Y/N. 18+!! Minors, please do not interact!!

(This GIF (the whole scene, really) is to blame for me writing this and I'm not apologising for it. I could have gotten a Lot nastier with this, honestly, but I'm always so embarrassed writing smut, so here we are!)

Caracalla understands the importance of rules and tradition, but he does not see why he, as the Emperor of Rome, should have to adhere to any of it if he does not wish to. He flourishes in chaos, relishes in doing the opposite of what is expected of him.

It is no great secret that he carries a fascination for blood. It is something you are very aware of, and as a result, have done everything in your power to keep this one little thing as far from his eyes as you are able.

It is only a matter of time before he finds out.

You awaken one morning to find the sheets stained with blood. Fear takes hold of you. You must have miscalculated the days. Caracalla is still asleep by your side, and you desperately pray to Somnus that he will remain so until you are able to hide the evidence of what has happened.

The Fates are against you as Caracalla stirs, reaching for you even as he is between waking and dreaming.

"Come back to me," he mumbles drowsily, his sleep-warm fingers grasping at your wrist.

"I will return in a moment, I promise," you say, trying to pry yourself from his surprisingly strong grasp.

Caracalla moves to sit up, rubbing at his face with his free hand.

"You will-" he begins to say, when he falters.

His eyes widen as he sees the blood, tracing its path to your skin.

"You are bleeding," he says, his voice a mixture of concern and something else.

Something darker.

"It is nothing to concern yourself with," you tell him as he moves closer to you. "It is my mensis. It happens at the turn of the moon."

Caracalla does not answer, instead reaching out to trail his fingers across your thigh. Something in you wishes to stop him, but something else - something far stronger - wishes to urge him on.

He looks at the blood on his fingertips, his lips parted and pupils dilated.

"So much, and yet still you live?" he asks, his voice rough with arousal.

He looks up at you, his eyes narrowing. It is a look you know all too well. The very same one he always has in the midst of the gladiatorial games. The same one he has levelled on you, time and time again.

Lust.

"Does it hurt?" he asks as he leans closer to you.

"It will pass," you tell him. "As it always does."

You can feel his breath, shallow and warm, against your skin. You should feel embarrassment, or shame perhaps, but right now, all you can feel is the desire emanating from Caracalla in waves.

It is overwhelming. You do not wish for it to stop.

"You can help me," you tell him softly, surprised at the boldness of your words.

Caracalla suddenly looks ravenous.

"Show me what I must do," he replies in a rushed breath.

How you adore him like this. So ardent, so eager to please.

You take his hand and slowly drag it up along your thighs. He keeps your gaze the entire time, teeth worrying at his bottom lip until his fingers press against you, exactly where you need them.

A soft sigh escapes you at his touch. Encouraged, he keeps it up, finding the rhythm he knows you like best. Quick little gasps escape you as you begin to unravel. He should not be as good at this as he is.

You reach up to the back of his neck, pulling him into a bruising kiss. He is not to be deterred from what he has started, his fingers quickening their pace as his teeth nip at your lower lip.

You cannot last at this pace, and you tell him as much in a shaky breath.

"Let me see you fall apart," he murmurs against your lips. "Please."

The urgency in his touch and the desperation in his voice are too much for you all at once, and you feel yourself tip over the edge at last, wave after wave of pleasure thrumming through you.

Only when you push him away does Caracalla finally stop, his hand coming to rest once more on your thigh.

"Pulchra," Caracalla says softly with a wide smile that has your pulse stuttering more than it already is.

Your rest your forehead against his for a moment, before the discomfort begins to build once more.

"I must clean myself up," you tell him reluctantly.

Caracalla presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. "The baths," he replies. "I will accompany you."

You know exactly what allowing him to do so will lead to, but you do not mind in the slightest.

Caracalla finds himself impatiently awaiting the next turn of the moon from then on.

(banners by @ cafekitsune)

[tennessoui]

Sooo I know you have another essay to write buuuut when you have time, could you do #25? Please and thank you!!!

Good luck with getting your essay done!! 🥰

here you go!

[from this list of prompts]

[2. 'have you lost your damn mind?' - 5. 'are you jealous' - 13. 'kiss me.' - 14. 'hey, i'm with you, okay? always.' - 18. 'this is the stupidest plan you've ever had. of course i'm in.' - 19. 'the paint is supposed to go where?' - 22. 'i've seen the way you look at me when you think i don't notice' (LATEST) - 24. 'you're the only one i trust to do this' - 27. 'i'm pregnant' - 28. 'marry me?' - 29. 'i thought you were dead' - 32. 'i think i'm in love with you and i'm terrified' - 37. 'wanna dance?' - 44. 'if you die, i'm gonna kill you' - 41. 'you did all of this for me?' - 46. 'hey, have you seen...? oh']

25. 'i can't believe you talked me into this.'

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Barriss mutters under her breath, far too loudly for Ahsoka's comfort.

"If you keep grumbling, he's gonna hear us from parsecs away," Ahsoka snaps, pushing against her arm. "And I didn't talk you into anything. We're just bringing Master Kenobi a slice of honey cake for his Temple Day."

"You talked me into wearing this stupid hat," Barriss points out, gesturing up to the cone atop her head. "And waking up at 0500 to do this."

"It's not my fault he likes to wake early," Ahsoka sniffs and adjusts her own coned hat. She'd looked it up. It's a Stewjoni birthday tradition, and since Jedi don't really mark their birthdays, given that many birthdays aren't known or precisely documented, she thinks it's alright to mix traditions in the name of celebration.

It's Master Obi-Wan's Temple Day, which means that one hundred years ago--or, apparently, thirty-seven to be exactly--on this day, Master Kenobi was brought to the Temple and adopted by the Jedi.

"I don't even like Master Kenobi all that much," Barriss says, and Ahsoka elbows her.

Probably the first and most important lesson her master ever taught her is that everyone likes Master Kenobi. To suggest otherwise is highly dangerous if Master Skywalker's in hearing range.

"Shut up, yes you do," Ahsoka says and pushes the cake plate into her friend's hand so that she can study the lockpad outside Master Kenobi's door. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be bringing him cake at 0500 on his Temple Day. Now be quiet, I'm trying to remember what digits Skyguy uses to gain access."

It'd help the most if Skyguy had answered the twenty comms she'd sent him last night, when she'd thought up her surprise for Master Kenobi's Temple day. But he hadn't even opened them. If it weren't for their training bond, Ahsoka wouldn't even know he was alive. They've been on Coruscant for three days, and she hasn't seen him since de-boarding.

She thinks maybe he and Senator Amidala made up, though she's not supposed to know about that. Not about their fight, not about their relationship. Her master thinks she's too young to hear about any of it, even though she's still got eyes.

It'd surprise her if they did get back together, from what Ahsoka's pieced together, but nothing else explains Anakin's absence.

But anyway.

It would be so much easier if Anakin were with her, because Anakin knows the code to get into Master Kenobi's quarters like he knows everything else about Master Kenobi.

But part of the reason Ahsoka's gone to all the trouble of finding the coned hats and making the honey cake--from scratch!--and roping Barriss in to help her with the whole thing is that if Anakin has gotten back together with Padmé, he's liable to forget all about Master Kenobi's Temple day, and Master Kenobi is liable to get really sad about it.

So Ahsoka is here, just in case Anakin remains...indisposed. It's what Master Kenobi deserves. He's a great Grandmaster. Some would probably even say he takes on a lot of master-like duties when it comes to teaching Ahsoka, and Ahsoka wouldn't argue. It's sort of nice to have two masters who look after her and encourage her to become the best Jedi she can be, even though that also means she has two masters who enjoy nagging at her all the time.

"Oh!" she says as the lockpad beside the door flashes green and opens. "Huh. That's funny."

"What?" Barriss asks, holding the cake plate in front of her like it's a shield.

"Oh, the doorpad code is Anakin's Temple day," Ahsoka says as she steps through the door. "It's ironic is all, that--Skyguy?"

"Ahsoka!?" Her master is in the kitchen unit. In Master Obi-Wan's kitchen unit. At 0500 in the morning.

And...shirtless?

"Master, put on a shirt!" Ahsoka yelps, turning her face away and covering her eyes. Beside her, Barriss makes a noise of disgust. "What are you even doing here? Naked?"

"Me?" Anakin's voice is high-pitched and far too loud for what had been a quiet morning. His words are accompanied by the sounds of a scramble around the area. Ahsoka doesn't even want to know what her master is doing. "Me--what are you doing here? It's not even 0600!"

"It's Master Obi-Wan's Temple day!" Ahsoka cries back, risking a peek over her fingers. Anakin has found and clothed himself in a striped and frilly yellow apron, which--well, it'll have to be do. "But why are you standing naked in Master Obi-Wan's kitchen unit?"

Barriss coughs. "Ahsoka, I think--we should probably..."

Anakin's face is beet red, and it grows to a worrying shade of purple when there's a clatter from further in the quarters. "I'm...uh. I was making Obi-Wan breakfast," he says.

"There's no food out," Ahsoka points out.

"I spilled it on myself," Anakin snaps. "So obviously, I took off my shirt because it had food on it, and how do you know the code to Obi-Wan's quarters anyway, padawan?"

Ahsoka glares back at him. "Show me the shirt," she demands.

"Ahsoka, really, I think we should go," Barriss says right as Anakin begins to bluster about laundry chutes and steaming clothes or something.

"Anakin?" Master Obi-Wan's voice calls, sounding confused. "What's taking so long, darli--"

"Your grandpadawan's here!" Anakin sounds shrill. He looks--

Ahsoka peers closer at him now that the shock of his presence has begun to wear off. He looks relatively freshly mauled.

"With her friend!" Anakin adds. His eyes dart between Ahsoka, Barriss, the cake, and the door. "They wanted to surprise you!"

Five long moments pass before the door at the end of the hall opens and Master Obi-Wan emerges, sleep clothes clearly rumpled and robe thrown on in a hurry. There's a worrying flush on his cheeks as well, and Ahsoka has never seen his hair so mussed up. "Oh," he says, looking between Ahsoka and Barris, and Anakin and his...apron. "Well, I am. Ah. Very surprised, padawan. Thank you."

Ahsoka nods at Anakin: this is more the reaction she'd expected. "Happy Temple Day, Master Obi-Wan," she tells him and then blinks at him, as he comes further into the light. "You have a bruise on your neck, Master," she tells him. "Was it from a fight?"

Barriss makes a distressed sound at the same time that Anakin does.

"Oh," Master Obi-Wan says, hand flying unerringly to the spot and covering it with his fingers. "It must have been, yes. I was in the training salles yesterday. I'll apply bacta on it this morning."

"I didn't want to do this," Barriss informs them, thrusting the cake plate back into Ahsoka's hands. "And I apologize for being here."

"I'm sorry you're here too," Ahsoka thinks her master mutters.

"Nonsense," Master Obi-Wan says. "Cake, anyone? It looks lovely, Ahsoka."

[arvhangel]

𐙚 ‎‎‎  oneshot.   Can you just shut him up for me, baby?

read with caution: violence, description of blood, miscommunication, season two rafe vibes, dealer!rafe, aggression, jealous!rafe, possession, fluff, murder, ends in a cliffhanger unless i get enough requests for a part two synopsis: reader has a obsessed ex, who's always texting her, she tells rafe "can you shut him up for me?" and he most literally shuts him up. my inspo for this was one of @bunnitalksxoxo's ai bots, but the obsessed ex idea is mine, pet names, the only description about the reader is that she wears pink and gets her nails done a lot.

The party was in full swing. Kildare's usual house parties, where no one really cared who was a Pogue or a Kook. Everyone was here for one of the many: to get wasted, high or laid. Sure, they say they're here to chill, not to have too many drinks. But that changes after the first shot or two. Solo cups and cheap beer that has a better affect than most. There was no music. Just a whole lot of chatter on sync. Nothing new. I wish I hadn't convinced Rafe to come here. But staying indoors was so boring. Now, he was nowhere to be found. I was sat alone, in a pink lace halter top. Sulking to myself, I hadn't seen my boyfriend in an hour. I had been taking shots of cheap ass beer out of boredom, which I stole from the kitchen. I didn't even know who's kitchen it was. My skin felt heated, like the sun rays had seemed itself into my skin. What was I, some sort of burning star up in the sky about to burst? My vision was blurry, my eyes felt so droopy. But I kept my eyes wide open, I wasn't planning on passing out. I didn't trust anyone here. So I walked around, and all of a sudden, I wish I hadn't worn such long inched heels. I convinced Rafe I could walk around in them. Now, I just have to convince myself. My manicured nails, that were dripped in baby pink scraped the walls, just so I could stand up straight. I peek over, my head tilting to see what was going on. I see Rafe there, sitting next to Barry. I didn't really know Barry, and Rafe didn't really let me know him either. Always rambling on about how he's not a good person, how I shouldn't talk to him when he's around. My eyes squint because my double vision was killing me right now. Rafe doesn't see me, not yet anyways. He's just talking to a few guys that look a bit old. There's coke, and I finally started getting the hang of what it looked like after dating Rafe for a few months. By instinct, my feet started moving towards Rafe, as I sat beside him, as he spoke to the other dealers. I cross my legs, my usual posture, then I rest my head on his shoulder. In an instant, his arm wraps on my shoulder, as he spoke, running his rough edged fingers into my hair. I felt relaxed. Knowing he was still attentive while talking, was aware of my presence. He kisses the top of my hair absentmindedly. It was one of his habits, I don't even think he realised it. But it never bothered me as such. As I scroll through Instagram, I kept getting messages from my ex, Eli. I let out a huff of annoyance, my eyes narrowing, as I roll my eyes. This was the fifth time this week, and I was so over it. At first, I found it funny. But he's been bothering so much this week. No matter how many times I blocked him, he always found my accounts on social media. This time, it was Instagram. First message? Fine, I ignored it. After a few minutes. Another one. Okay, I have patience. I'll ignore it. I tell myself after the next five messages he's sent me, and then I finally text him.

What I didn't know was that Rafe was silently reading all of this. I didn't know what he was feeling. Anger? Jealousy? Possessive? Was he finding this amusing? I didn't know. I glance over my shoulder, and I could see his eyes narrow at the particular message Eli sent: You're such a bitch. I sigh, already exhausted with the whole situation, and I hand Rafe my phone. "Can you just shut him up please? He's really getting on my nerves, and I've already got a headache." I mumble, my head buried in his chest. What I also didn't know that my simple question, my simple question which I had no violent intention inside it, was a loaded gun to Rafe's twisted mind. One hell of an opportunity for him. He gives a wide grin I didn't even see, my eyes were so droopy that I didn't even see that twitching glint in his eyes at my words. I don't know what he did with my phone after. I thought he sent a few threatening messages, nothing less. Or simply blocked.

HOURS LATER, RAFE'S BEDROOM. [mentions of blood] The sun was setting, I was so bored after that party, and I was slouched on my bed in Rafe's shirt that wasn't even my size, but it was warm and with Rafe's cologne smudged all over it. Gave me enough warmth than an actual bed. I was watching The Conjuring, that's how bored I was. Resorting to horror movies. That's when I hear, someone entering the house. A smile reaching my lips in an instant, as I thought of Rafe. But then it got eerily quiet. Maybe it was just that horror film feeling. Then I hear someone in the kitchen, cleaning up something. Out of my own boredom, and my own intrigue, I left my room, barefoot. My heart stops, and I scream so loudly, like the banshee type. I see Rafe, my boyfriend Rafe. Drenched in blood, the bangs on his face sticky on his skin, and he's draped in sweat and blood. His skin glistened, and the scent of blood was awful. His hands are bloodied and veiny, the veins look like they're about to burst if he doesn't stop clenching his fists. He's wiping a knife, and there's a trail of blood on the floor. "What the hell are you doing!" I scream, stepping back, and I feel blood on my feet, and I just wanted to run back into my room and turn off the Conjuring. There's this glint in Rafe's eyes that I never noticed before, and he's smiling. Usually, I love his smiles. It was adorable. Now it was just downright terrifying. "You told me you wanted me to shut him up for you, baby." He says.

written by @arvhangel™ please do not claim, steal, copy or repost my work as your own.

[whyamiherewhosummonedme]

potentially stupid question but i have a migraine and your virus drinking exploits got me thinking about bactiraphages (sorry if misspelled) and if they could be a potential solution to antibiotic resistant infections? or are they SO different that they couldnt see bacteria targeting human cells as a target? please feel free to disregard some of your qna tag seemed like you would be receptive to these kinds of questions

Congratulations on stumbling upon the purpose of most current bacteriophage studies, including my own! Yes, the usage of bacteriophages as an alternative to antibiotics- specifically to treat antibiotic-resistant infections - is a major, cutting-edge topic of study right now, spurred on by a landmark 2017 case study that used an experimental bacteriophage treatment on a man who was dying from an infection that nothing had worked on. And amazingly, after just a couple weeks, the infection was gone.

So, you know, something like that sparked a LOT of interest. Bacteriophage therapy is still a cutting-edge experimental treatment and a lot more research needs to go into it before it can be considered on a wider scale, but it's massively promising. Some studies are showing that bacteria exposed to phages, as they attempt to develop resistance to the phage, will actually lose resistance to antibiotics!

This video by Kurzgesagt is a very good overview, even if it's outdated by nature of being 6 years old and a lot of research has been done since then. Highly recommend checking some stuff out!

But yeah dude, do not apologize for coming into a scientist's askbox and asking them questions about their field. Every scientist I know including myself will take any opportunity to infodump

[riddikulusravenclawbelle]

guilty as sin?

plot - sneaking into a kook party was mistake #1. talking to rafe cameron was mistake #2. catching feelings? that was the beginning of the end.

trope(s)- enemies to lovers & forced proximity if you squint.

characters - rafe cameron x oc! belle maybank.

wc - 1.9k (longest work yet, woo!)

warnings - curse words.

creds - ty to @aquazero for making this pretty divider!

final notes - this is the first part of my ‘ruin me gently’ series so i hope u love it! <3

Belle Maybank always grew up on the cut. She was a pogue, a proud one at that. Naturally, she gravitated to her brother’s friend group, which consisted of John B, Kie, Pope, Sarah, Cleo, her brother JJ, and herself.

She didn’t know much about the Kooks, except that she hated them. Especially Rafe Cameron. Sarah had told enough stories — stealing gold from the Pogues, framing John B for Sheriff Peterkin’s death — to make sure of that. Belle could tell JJ and the others were selective about what they told her, even though she was only two years younger. But they’d told her enough. Enough to know Rafe Cameron was trouble.

“JJ please!” Belle pleaded.

“No, B. We’re sneaking into the party and out. No drama. You aren’t going.” JJ replied, firm as ever.

“But-”

“Listen. You’re my little sister. I said no. End of story.”

“Fine.” Belle said out loud. In her mind though? She was already planning how she’d get there.

She couldn’t quite remember how she snuck in. But luckily, it was out of sight of JJ’s protective brother radar.

‘Oh shit.’ Belle audibly whispered as she saw Kiara and Sarah walking towards the drink table she was currently occupying with some other randoms. The closest hiding spot? Running upstairs.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Belle was on a balcony, safe in the shadows. Watching the Kooks was like observing a different species. They had nothing to worry about. Trust funds, yachts, endless summers. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little jealous.

“You look lost,” a voice cut through her thoughts. It caused her to turn around.

There he was, Rafe Cameron. Belle had never spoken to him. Her mind scrambled for words. ‘Shit.’

“You’re not supposed to be up here. It’s off limits to guests.”

“I was just getting some fresh air. Sorry, I’ll just-”

“Wait,” he said, stepping in front of the only exit. Something about that voice made Belle listen to his command. “You hang with the Pogues right? With Sarah?” Rafe asked but it felt like he already knew the answer. She silently nodded.

“So. What’re you doing at a kook party?” He asked, but this felt like a warning.

“Um, Topper invited me.” It’s the only other Kook name she knew.

“Mm, weird,” he pursed his lips into a thin line. ‘Cause this is my party. And I don’t remember Top saying he invited a pogue. ever. “

Damn it. ”Excuse me.” Belle said. She again was looking for any way out of this tense encounter.

“Your friends waiting for you?” He inquired. She shook her head no.

“Then why the rush?”

“Because I don’t trust you, Rafe. I’ve heard the things you’ve done.”

“Let me guess — JJ told you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he doesn’t know shit.”

Belle was stunned he even knew who she was. But her pride held firm.

“Goodbye, Rafe.” She sidestepped him, only to feel his hand close around her wrist.

“You’re a little too close to danger here, Pogue. Sure you want to talk to me like that?”

“Yo, Rafe! Shots!” Kelce’s voice rang out nearby. If Kelce saw her, the whole island would know. And JJ… she'd lose everything.

“Be down in a second,” He announced. Then he turned his attention back to Belle. “We’re not done here, princess.” He lets go of her wrist, his gaze lingering on her just a second too long for her liking.

“Actually we are. Have fun counting daddy’s trust fund and having anger outbursts, Cameron.” She left, heart racing, somehow making it home before JJ’s crew.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Her wrist still tingled, like Rafe’s grip had left behind an invisible brand she couldn’t wash off. She wishes she could deny feeling anything, but secretly? She enjoyed his touch.

“What’s got you all flustered Belle?” Sarah asked, with a smile on her face.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. I don’t know.” Belle replied as the group was sitting out on the porch of the chateau.

“It’s nothing or you don’t know?” John B playfully teased.

“Oh my gosh,” Belle said, covering her face in her hands. “I am going to the bathroom.”

She got up and as she entered the bathroom, she got a dm from Rafe.

Rafe: i was serious. We aren’t done. meet me at my place. one hour.

Every possible red flag that existed was popping up. But Belle’s a Maybank. Red flags were her comfort zone.

Belle: fine.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

She knocked, texting: im here.

The July heat pressed down hard. When the door didn’t open, she retreated to her car, grumbling.

Belle: ummm hello? It’s hot as hell rafe.

Belle had no ties to him. She had no reason to stay. She should leave. But curiosity — and maybe something else — rooted her in place. So, after a few more minutes pass, she gave it one more try and walked toward the door. Her hand already balled in a fist to knock before she hears Rafe exclaim “I’m sorry! Okay?”

“You understand your tarnishing our family name, Rafe! Everything we’ve built you’re carelessly destroying! For once in your life have a brain!” Belle heard someone yell, it sounded like his father, Ward. Belle knew she’d be more than lucky if she never had to see Ward Cameron face to face.That man was like a politician, full of lies and deceit. He moves in the shadows, and everyone knows it.

After a few minutes it seemed like the voices had died down. Belle felt a knot form in her stomach. Nothing but silence was left, before her phone dinged. The harsh words she had overheard—cut deep. She stood frozen, trying to reconcile the Rafe she knew, the angry, volatile figure, with the vulnerable one she had just overheard.

Rafe: mb. coming to open the door right now.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

When Rafe opened the door, his eyes were swollen and red. Belle could tell he had been crying. She thought it best not to bring it up now. She almost felt bad for him? Sure, he was a monster. A liar with anger and family issues. Belle couldn’t help but think, if she grew up in that environment, would she turn out the same way?

“Are you gonna come in or keep staring at me, pogue?” Rafe asked, rhetorically. To which, she just walked in and he held the door for her. She tight lines her lips as she walks through the door.

“So,” she said as she sat on the couch nearest to the exit. She knew she needed a quick escape, just in case.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. No, I don’t”

“Okay.”

“D’you want water? Or tea, something?” he asked, in a firmer tone. Seemed like he was regaining his hard shell. It seemed like it.

“Water, please.” Belle replied, with a slight smile. Rafe chuckled, Belle was unsure why. “What?”

“Nothing it’s just-I didn’t think you pogues had manners.” To which Belle rolled her eyes.

“Yeah. I guess some things make it to the other side of the island, huh?” she jokes as Rafe is grabbing her water from their fridge.

“See, that's why I like you, pogue. You have a sense of humour, unlike your brother and his friends.” A beat passes, Belle feels something heavy consume all the air in the room and sees a shift in Rafe’s demeanor. “And, you're the only person who doesn’t pretend I’m someone I’m not.” His eyes soften, only for a moment, but Belle catches it. The room falls silent as Rafe walks over and hands her the water bottle. Their fingers brush each other's, only just. His hands are unusually soft. It’s a feeling Belle wishes she could replay over and over. It’s electric.

“You know- you throw people off sometimes with the whole ‘I have feelings.’ thing.” She said, intending for it to be a lighthearted joke.

“Don’t get used to it, Maybank.” He said as he scoffed and walked behind the couch on the opposite side of the room from her. His hands gripping the top of the couch, just inches away from the kitchen he was just in.

“I wasn’t planning to. Honestly, I would be more surprised if you didn’t punch a wall or scream at someone today.” She chuckled. Rafe didn’t find that as funny as she did though, his jaw only tightened.

“You are really confident for someone who’s sitting in more than a shack right now.” Belle chuckled at the comment, this time, out of anger.

“I’m confident because I don't scare easily. And when I do, I don’t run behind daddy’s money to fix it.” She sips her water, maintaining eye contact with Rafe Cameron.

“Jesus,” Rafe said breathlessly, now standing up behind the couch. “You really think you’ve got it all figured out huh?”

“No. I just think it’s pathetic when you project your insecurities on others when you’re miserable.” She stands up to match his stance.

“Oh and what because you’re so happy? You live in a house with your brother and his gang of idiots that looks like it gets hit by Hurricane Katrina daily. You’d kill for what I have.”

“Rafe, I don’t really think you want to talk about family. Because then what do you have? A dad who is so disappointed in you that he yells so loud I can hear outside the door. Please. Everyone knows he’s more proud of Sarah then he’ll ever be of you.” Belle scoffs, crossing her arms. That’s enough for Rafe to take a few steps toward Belle. Belle steps even closer to Rafe. She knows she crossed a line. But she's too far in to back down now. So much for her escape plan.

“Shut up.” Rafe said, his eyes filled with fury and his jaw tight. To say the air was heavy would be an understatement. To say that Belle wanted to slap him in that moment, would be a valid statement.

“Make. me.” Belle immediately snapped back staring back into his eyes, replying in his same low tone.

Just then, thunder claps as the lights in the mansion flicker off. A few seconds passed before “Backup generator,” Rafe muttered, clearing his throat. He clears his throat before he steps back. As Belle turns to leave, the rain pours harder but she opens the door to go anyway.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“You’re not driving home in this.” He says as he closes the door. One hand on the door keeping it closed. He’s towering over her now.

“Oh so now you’re in charge of what’s right and wrong?” Rafe lets that one roll off his back.

“You can stay here for the night.” Rafe sighs as he offers. His body language indicated he did not want to offer that.

“Hard pass.”

“Belle,” That’s the first time he’s addressed by her name. Ever. It made her pause. “You know you can’t drive in that.”

“Watch me.”

“If the roads are not flooded already, it's about to be. It only takes like 5 minutes. ” He was right. She knew he was right. And that was the most frustrating part. “Just stay here. We have a guest room down the hall. I don’t care if you hate me just– don’t be stupid.” Rafe explains.

“Why do you care if I make it home or not?” She inquired.

“I don’t.” There’s that hard shell again. He looks away, almost like he’s unable to look at her without feeling something. “If my sister knew you were here and I let you go in this weather, she’d actually kill me.”

She hesitated before saying “Thanks, I guess.” Belle turned to go to the guest room.

“You should get some sleep, Belle.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Belle said as she rolled her eyes.

She hated Rafe Cameron. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

[felassan]

This post is a follow-on to [this post].

Some more Bluesky posts by David Gaider:

David Gaider: "The Road to Summerfall - Part 3 I haven't talked a lot about the two years I spent at Beamdog (between 2016 and 2018) mainly because, well, ultimately nothing came of it. I worked on two projects, both of which ended up cancelled. Still, I think the time I spent there was ultimately worthwhile." [x]

(Rest of post is under a cut due to length.)

"After leaving BioWare, I was understandably in a bit of a funk. I talked to my friends at length about how I wanted to start a studio, but for that you really need two things: someone to handle the biz dev side, who can start the company and talk to publishers, and someone to work on the project." [x] "I was the latter, certainly, but even then my options were limited. I could put together a design, but I couldn't *make* a game on my own without engineering and art skills, and I had neither. So whatever design I made would need to be pitched to publishers, and for that I needed the biz dev person." [x] "Yet I didn't know anyone like that yet. And this really is a case where you either do or don't, because you can't just *join* a start up as a co-founder unless you know someone involved first. The only other way is by being hired as an employee. Nobody *hires* co-founders, unless you're truly lucky." [x]

"Around this time, I ran into Trent Oster at my local gym. Trent used to work at BioWare (as a co-founder, and was, at one time, one of the Project Directors on DAO) and left to found Beamdog - a small Edmonton studio which, at that time, had mostly done re-makes of BioWare's Infinity Engine games." [x] "He told me Beamdog was starting to do their own projects. They were finishing Siege of Dragonspear, an expansion for BG1, but more importantly were also up to something else: a sequel to Planescape: Torment, for which they had Chris Avellone on board as a consultant. Now THAT caught my interest." [x] "After all, making a sequel to one of the most beloved Infinity Engine titles? In the Planescape setting, which I adored, and which gave license to break all the "standard" rules of CRPG's? Yes, please! Under that premise, I warily agreed - and by March of 2016 I was Beamdog's new Creative Director." [x]

"Initially, I was diverted onto doing a treatment for a possible BG3 - which I did, but we quickly learned that Wizards of the Coast (WotC) had already passed this onto a triple-A developer. We *suspected* this was Larian, and at that point: fair enough! There was no way Beamdog could match that!" [x] "Thus, I spent the next year training a pair of brilliant young writers and (with Chris Avellone's help) put together a plan for what ended up being called Planescape: Unraveled, where you played one of three aspects of Ravel Puzzlewell racing against time to solve the mystery of your own existence." [x] "I was proud of this one, let me tell you. It was sharp, it had great NPC's, WotC was so excited about it they were willing to move up their plans for 3rd edition Planescape and include some of the characters and seismic events from the game in the setting reboot. We were ready to start writing!" [x]

"The problem? Funding. WotC wasn't in a place to do more than give a stamp of approval, and the publishers we met... well, Trent knows more than I do, but I think there was a perception that Planescape wasn't very successful or commercial. Or maybe they just didn't have confidence in Beamdog, or me." [x] "Whatever the problem, we couldn't sell it... and by the end of 2016, we had to put Planescape: Unraveled on the shelf and start something new. Which killed me, and I almost moved on right then, but then Trent gave me license to move onto a pet project of mine: a game which became Cold West." [x] "See, I had a long-standing itch to make something Weird West. I'd pitched an idea for an Old West exorcist game to Bio back in the day (to blank stares and "thanks for the pitch"), but here I had the chance to actually develop it into something? OK, yes. For that, I'll keep going. And I did." [x]

"Thus, we made a game that took place in Alberta (the Canadian province where Edmonton is) in 1881, but with demons and magic and dark fae. It gave me a chance to do history research about Canada's Old West period and especially its aboriginal history, something home-grown, and it felt REALLY cool." [x] "Even with a great playable prototype showing off the turn-based combat, however: we couldn't sell it. Weird West isn't a popular genre, I suppose, but whatever the problem was once again the publishers Beamdog spoke to all passed. Once again, we were all ready to start writing and had to shelve it." [x] "I was gutted. Two cancellations in a row? I always had the feeling Trent didn't think either of these games had much commercial appeal, but - to his credit - he let them happen. Now, however, it was time to make something more conventionally commercial. Time for Beamdog, perhaps, but not for me." [x] "I would have left by this point anyhow, I think, but it just so happened I'd recently made a friend who was maybe that very biz dev-oriented person one needed to start a studio... and who wanted to do just that. So, as I left Beamdog at the start of 2018, this time it was with a plan. Maybe. 😅" [x]

[original thread, following thread, latest thread]

Follow-up and other recent Q&A Bluesky posts:

Mike Laidlaw: "Dave’s making me blush in [this thread]. Happy memories working together even if the entire writing team would wince every time I walked in their room and said, “Soooo…..” and clapped-clasped my hands. It was and still is my “bad news is a-comin’” tell." [x] David Gaider: "I still tell tales to the youngins about your "So!" power move and the sheer terror it would inspire in me each and every time. 😅" [x] "And the grin. The grin that contained a self-awareness of the pain he was about to inflict, and which he took no personal joy in, but By God it was going to happen anyhow." [x]

DG: "While I was at BioWare, EA *always* preferred Mass Effect, straight up Their Marketing team liked it more. It was modern. It had action. They never quite knew what to do with DA, and whenever DA outperformed ME, ME got the excuses. If you ask me, it was always just shy of the axe since DA Origins." [x] Allan Schumacher: "I felt this percolated down to people in studio as well. ME was the prestige franchise, while DA was the plucky one that was too wild west and had low standards." [x] DG: "It was kind of hard to get away from the feeling that the Dragon Age team was BioWare's "B team", wasn't it? Even when Mass Effect didn't do as well as Dragon Age, there was a kind of certainty that this was a fluke and Mass Effect ultimately had more *potential*." [x]

User: "I've always wondered how close Beamdog got to doing BG3 and if there was anything planned in advance before it ended up with Larian." DG: "I answered this in the latest thread. Beamdog made a pitch for a BG3, but it was already in Larian's hands by that point. So never more than a pitch." [x]

[original thread, following thread, latest thread]

[versevibess]

Commandress

Cassian X Reader

PART ONE

Summary:

Multiple part series. You lock eyes with the Lord of Bloodshed on the battlefield during Hybern’s attack and later his High Lord and Lady offer you a bargain you cannot refuse.

WARNINGS:

Later parts will contain more explicit content. Read at your own risk. Descriptions of violence and gore.

Please note:

This is my first time writing on tumblr! Please hang in there whilst I get the hang of things! :)

Bones cracked and crumbled beneath my feet, the battle field now paved with corpses; to the point that the mud beneath them was a sickly mixture of soil and flesh. I could hear the blood rushing to my head, my heart pounding so loud I could hardly hear my own self scream at my soldiers around me.

I could see the distaste on the many male faces the moment we stepped off of that ship, yet it did nothing but make me fight harder. A point needed to be proven, and I had done exactly that, my dagger disemboweling yet another of Hybern’s soldiers before me. I took a moment to catch my breath as his body turning into a sack of lifeless muscle, slumping to the ground, adding a tally next to the rest of them.

My surroundings were absolutely chaos, males bursting with red hot fury as their swords and shields clashed repeatedly against one another; no rhyme nor reason to their movement, just raw, unforgiving rage. Everything inside my body burned with fatigue, but I couldn’t let them know that, couldn’t prove them correct in saying that the battlefield was no place for a woman.

So I heaved for breath, unsheathing my sword from my side and hauling the heavy steel over my shoulder; waiting in anticipation for the next screwed up face to charge at me. I wouldn’t have to wait long, a large male clad in the Kings colours running towards me with a harsh snarl, his teeth grit. I paid it no thought as I swung my sword, once, twice, the metal of our weapons gleaming as they clashed, just before I took a brutal swing at his neck.

Clean. His head slid from his neck, a perfect seam of blood spilling from his throat and onto his armour before his legs finally caught up and collapsed from beneath him. Another mark next to my name.

Perhaps I had been too caught up in the brutality of it all, perhaps I simply couldn’t see through my white speckled vision as to what was happening before all of our armies - the King was dead. So I kept fighting, and fighting. Each body which fell to the ground was a reminder to my body to keep pushing, one more became two more, two more became three.

I may have become too confident as I took one more moment to catch my breath, hands still clenched around the silver handle of my sword which was hovered above my shoulder. So caught up in the middle of two thoughts - the disbelief that the King had been slain and the disbelief of how many dead bodies were trampled at my feet - that I hadn’t noticed the dagger which flew towards me.

The weapon cut through the air faster than light, the entire thing as if it was a dream that I didn’t quite have a grasp on. All I felt was pain, soaring, boiling pain from above my eyebrow, all the way down to the corner of my mouth. I may have been in a state of shock, my hand loosening around my sword as I screamed in agony, metallic tasting blood pooling between the seams of my lips as I screamed.

I hadn’t even seen the dagger come at me for a second blow, straight into the left side of my stomach.

Blinding red flight burst around me, and for a moment I believed this was it; that the red light consuming me was in fact the underworld I was undoubtedly destined to be sent to once my soul left my body.

This was it, I thought.

Yet I could feel my body hit the ground. My face pillowed by cushions of mud, or perhaps a corpse. And once my eyes peeled open from the sheer pain of it all, they met the man who delivered the blow, being cut into ribbons by an Illyrian soldier.

No, not an Illyrian soldier.

My eyes drifted open and closed, and in what may have been my final moments, I watched as he scorched my attacker with his wrath, with siphons so bright they were almost blinding. He towered over the rest of his men, a beacon of power, destruction. I didn’t have the mental capacity to note the look of terror twist in everyone else’s faces, but I was sure I would remember it for days to come. If the gods allowed it.

Darkness consumed me once more, and for slightly longer this time; yet the adrenaline that soared through my body overpowered deaths calling.

My eyes shot open, the ringing in my ears now drowning back into the battlefield cries. I managed to press my hand into the mud and haul my weight onto my single arm, the other hand clutching at the weeping wound purchased to my side. My eyelids fought against me, squeezing closed at the mud and blood which burned through my vision. Yet I still found my feet, stumbling backwards slightly through the thick wet soil, my sword digging into the ground beside me.

I watched the man’s heavy wings flare, so wide, a pang of bitter jealousy hit me deep in my chest. I wanted to do the same, the sharp jagged lumps of carved bone in my back itching to mimic his movements. Sorrow washed over me, no matter how many bodies lay before me on the battle field, I held no where near as much grief for them as I did my wings.

He turned, his broad chest heaving, his bearded jaw jutted out ever so slightly as he gasped for air, for regeneration. His hazel eyes held mine, a face so beautiful, carved from the gods them selves before me, yet in such a horrible wicked place. My eyebrows furrowed as his eyes narrowed at me.

And then he pressed his lips together, giving me a short, sharp nod before turning his back to me and bracing what was left of the war.

•

I tried to think back to that time as little as I could.

A thought alone was enough to make my stomach churn, enough to make me spill the contents of my gut onto the floor before me at any given second.

I had lost many of my women, and with such a small army left, it made our training days shorter, our help lesser. It was ultimately down to me to cover all bases now.

My heart twisted as I observed the many tent archways which hadn’t been opened since we returned; snow had began to build around the entrances due to a lack of disturbance. My eyes would often well as I thought about the untouched, cold beds which still remained inside - the belongings which now belonged to nobody.

I tried to convince myself that it was the whole point of this secluded place. Women with no safety could seek comfort in knowing they would be fed, trained and live their life with purpose other than to be bred and wed, and when the time would come, they would put up their fight. Yet it didn’t make it easier, even time its self seemed to make it even harder.

It wasn’t often that a new presence could be sensed among the camp. Under the glamours which cloaked Cretea, the land in which we stood was deemed practically nonexistent.

That was until today.

I stood inside of my tent, leaning over my wash basin and listening to the quiet crackle of my fireplace when the archway of my tent rustled open. My teeth clashed together at the abrupt burst of noise, clutching my damp wash cloth with a white knuckle as I washed the days debris from my skin.

“Commandress-“ the young, female voice called from the archway of the tent. I turned, still scrubbing away at my forearm as I silently prayed for a day where I received a moment of interrupted peace. “There are some people here for you.” She declared.

I continued to stare at the girl through my lashes, harshly digging away at a dried patch of mud which clung to my skin. I almost paid no heed to her, usually when someone was here for me, it was to tell me that I was doing my job wrong.

“Who?” I asked, looking back down at the patch of red skin which I had rubbed raw.

She didn’t answer straight away, instead I watched as her mouth opened and closed without a word. I raised my eyebrows, flinging the cloth into the basin and bracing my hands at my hips, holsters still strapped to my fox fur lined leathers.

“The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.”

•

The High Lady stood proudly in the snow, wrapped in bundles of fur and shawls; a long, deep navy dress cascading into the white fluffy ice. A crown of silver stars, incrusted with more jewels than I had ever laid eyes on in my life rested atop of her head of thick golden-brown hair. I hadn’t properly had chance to observe her striking beauty during the war, yet I could see why she was well matched, mated, to the winged male who stood beside her.

I was in no state to be seen by a Lord, nor Lady. Only partially clad in my leathers, I hadn’t properly had the chance to dress accordingly for such a visit before I threw myself out of the tent. My empty holsters still strapped to my hips, with a lousy black long sleeve which did little to fight the brutal cold; I simply couldn’t fight the anticipation as to knowing why on earth they were here.

My face feigned confidence as I braced myself before them, feet planted firmly in the snow as I stared at the two with questioning eyes. Not only did they have little reason to be standing in my camp, but they also shouldn’t have been able to find it.

“The Commandress“ the High Lord announced, hands pressed into his pockets as one foot waded carelessly through the snow. “It is a pleasure to put a name to the face.”

My lips pressed together firmly, arms crossed over my chest as one thousand questions threatened to spill from my tongue. Instead, my eyes trailed to his gracious wings, pain twisting deep in my heart until I met the soft smile of the High Lady.

I could tell she could sense my discomfort, my uncertainty. “Perhaps we should go somewhere warm, I would love to discuss a few things with you.” She offered kindly.

I hesitated for a moment, eyebrow twitching upwards before my eyes trailed their way to the dining tent. Curiosity coiled within me, not particularly willing to wait the walk to the warm shelter to know what their intentions were.

“Why are you here?” I asked, perhaps a bit forward. I was as taken aback by my abrupt words as the High Lord was.

The High Lady, Feyre, followed my eyes, slowly and cautiously wading through the snow towards the warm hue of the fire and the smell of roasting meat. I followed, as did Rhysand. My frozen hands clenching and unclenching at my sides, phantom wings tucked so tight, as if I was a hound with their tail between its legs.

We walked in silence to the tent, irritation slowly beginning to creep up at me as no words were exchanged any further. Part of me wondered whether they must have wanted me seated for whatever it was they had to declare.

Yet we sat, the mated fae side by side, myself opposite them and still not a word giving away their purpose. Rhysand’s violet eyes were so intense it was almost painful to bare them, Feyre’s equally so.

I took a deep breath in through my nose, staring down at my clasped hands before meeting their faces once again. “My Lord, Lady, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I tried a more formal approach, earning a brief scoff from Rhysand. Feyre simply smiled, glancing at her mate.

“I don’t think I had ever heard an Illyrian speak with such formality.” He remarked and my eyebrows furrowed.

“How do you know that I am Illyrian?” I asked. I certainly didn’t have the wings to prove it.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, bright violet eyes clearly tracing over the scar which was now embedded into the soft skin of my face. A permanent reminder of what our people endured. A wicked reminder.

“Illyrian woman are a different kind, different to us males.” He inhaled a sharp breath, his ankle crossing over his knee as he clasped his hands in his lap infront of him. I watched as his wings flared with his movement. “Stronger, driven.”

“I do not need your praise, just tell me what you need.” I pushed firmly.

His eyebrows raised, Feyre’s hand sliding over his forearm, a silent gesture for him to just get to the point.

“The war was brutal for all of us, as you know.” His head nodded towards the few remaining woman of the camp who had began to rustle around outside, undoubtedly eavesdropping on the conversation. “Yet once we grew brave enough to share our own stories-“ he paused for a moment, glancing at his mate. “The commander of my armies could only ask about one woman… one which he did not know the name of, yet fought as if she had something to prove.”

I swallowed dryly.

“He said she lead an army of woman, not just Illyrian, but from every corner of the immortal lands and she bought many men to their deaths effortlessly.” He continued.

“I believe you have the wrong person.” I bit.

Feyre’s lips rolled inwards, her eyes not meeting mine as she toyed with the sapphire and silver ring on her slender finger.

“He told us that if we were to ever find her, she would have a scar; one from the top of her brow to her lip.”

My eye twitched slightly, my hands gripping the wooden bench with enough force to snap it. Not only fear, but disappointment washed over me. I had kept us hidden for so long, my people hidden for so long, with only one promise to protect the scarred souls who lived here from the cruel outside world. Yet they could find me from something so small, as insignificant as a scar on my face.

“What do you want?” I asked, the quiver evident in my voice.

I had heard stories of the High Lord, whispers from Pyrthian; that he could turn an immortals mind to mist with as little as a thought. He could make them think things, whatever he pleased. I knew I had to be careful, perhaps more careful than I had ever been.

He feigned a look of thought, his lip curling outwards as he picked at a silver thread on his dark velvet tunic.

“Your guidance, in exchange for whatever you please.”

I prayed to the gods that they couldn’t hear the skipped beat of my heart.

I remained silent, peering slowly between the two as I waited for a catch to follow their offer. Regardless of whether it came, I knew my answer already. I had dedicated what little life I had experienced to helping less fortunate women, to ensuring they had another path. That couldn’t stop now, now that I had been offered a higher duty.

Silence continued to consume the High Lord’s offer, my eyes narrowing with thought as one of my soldiers who was tending to dinner, Synthia, brought over three cups of boiling tea. I only just managed to mumble a thank you in return, my vision now strained on the tumbling streams of steam emitted from the cup.

“I’m afraid I must decline.” I finally answered.

The two looked at one another for a few seconds, until Feyre’s gaze fell on me. She simply took a sip from her tea, with much more grace and elegance than anyone on this camp had ever managed, before settling the cup down in front of her softly.

“It is entirely your choice, but may I ask that you listen to our reasoning and in return, we will listen to yours.”

I hesitated but nodded, slightly taken aback by her response. I doubted that the High Lady often heard anyone decline an offer that her and her mate had composed, yet she handled it with grace.

“I understand why you took all of this on, the camp, the role of commandress…” The High Lady’s eyes trailed to where my wings should have sat proud. “In our Illyrian camps, the girls now train, learn to fly-“ her eyes lit up at the words alone, “yet you know how these Illyrian men can be, stubborn -“ her mate flashed her a look, although almost appeared as if he agreed. “- stuck in their old ways. The general of our armies expressed his admiration for your skill on the battlefield, and it was my idea to seek you out and ask if you would be willing to help.”

I let the words settle before I spoke, sparks of nerves erupting in my gut. My heart was beating so wildly in my chest that I thought it may tear through the muscle. Yet they remained the epitome of calm and composed.

“My wings were carved from my body long after the practice was banned, before I had even bled.” The words rolled from my tongue with such hatred and disgust, yet they both knew it wasn’t intended for them. “Woman still arrive to this island with their back and bones in bits-“

“Then help us put a stop to it.” The Lords words were cold, firm.

“May I ask why you do not wish to help?” The High Lady followed.

I had began to chew on the insides of my cheeks, my lips twisting as I let the question stew in the air for a moment.

“How could I live with myself, if I left this land for a fancy court and a new role after leading dozens of women to their deaths.” My words were laced with a raw sense of guilt. The thought alone twisted my chest, a dreaded sickness settling in the pit of my stomach as the scene played out behind my eyes.

“Your army will be cared for, and if they wish they may join you on whichever camp you reside on. We will have our finest Illyrian warriors continue to train them in the meanwhile - until you are settled in.” Rhysand followed, a tiny spark of hope igniting inside of me.

Perhaps I could end this once and for all. Without the sick evil bastards shredding fae women of their wings, draining them of the power in which they possessed, then there wouldn’t be a need to keep them secluded. The battle which shredded throughout my mind was enough to make me become nauseous, ‘what ifs’ plaguing my rational train of thought.

“You have my word, your people will be cared for, safe, they will never worry about seeking out a warm bed or a cooked meal again. They will receive whatever education we can give, whatever expertise we can pass on and you will receive whatever your heart desires.” The High Lord continued.

I watched as Feyre’s expression perked at the end of his generosity.

“What is it your heart desires, Commandress?” She asked.

“Happiness.” I breathed.

[aristaspark]

My opinion on Sammy's reaction to Brooklynn

Chaos Theory : Season 3 part 6

This post will just be me trying to figure out my on thoughts on Sammy's reaction to Brooklynn because while I understand where she's coming from, something bugs me so yeah.

I said it in a previous post: when it comes to the campers' reaction to Brooklynn, funnily enough, I find Sammy and Kenji's stance to make MUCH more sense than the others. With how Brooklynn has been treating them, it's to be expected that they'd react that way. But as I also said, the reason Sammy and Kenji refuse to go after Brooklynn is different, and I found myself leaning more towards Yaz's side on the debate she had with Sammy about Brooklynn.

Kenji is justified in his refusal to go after Brooklynn: he has seen countless things that have shaken his trust in her (her going to see his dad, the bag full of money, the secret appartment, all the lies when they were living together), and then he found out that not only was she capable of all that, but she was also capable of making him believe that she was dead for several months AND to reject him coldly afterwards, him, the man she was supposed to love. Kenji has absolutely no reason he should trust Brooklynn, going after her would straight up be masochism with how much she's caused him suffering and anguish. Brooklynn actually wronged him even though she hadn't intended to, simply by virtue of him being her boyfriend.

But Sammy is slightly different.

It's not to say that Brooklynn's actions haven't caused her suffering, they have, they were friends, family as she put it. But I believe the reason Sammy is so mad at Brooklynn finds its root in a fondamental difference between them: to Sammy, family is everything, it has always been, but Brooklynn has always been "on her own", a loner living her life independantly. And you know what? Both are fine.

Neither should have to change to please the other, because friendships don't work like that. And so, my point is that Sammy's anger towards Brooklynn is rooted in something that isn't inherently bad, it's like she's angry at Brooklynn because she doesn't value family the way she does. It was a flaw she already had in camp creataceous, a flaw that makes its return here. She struggles to accept that other people don't live the way she does and it makes her look like she really lacks empathy.

As I said, Brooklynn actively hurt Kenji, he was a direct - dare I even say the biggest - victim of her actions, so in their case she's the one who has to show empathy to him (and even with that being the case, Kenji STILL showed empathy towards her when he looked at her arm at the end of last season, despite everything she had done to him).

But Sammy, while being hurt over Brooklynn's lack of care for her family, puts that above everything else to the point where she doesn't even stop to wonder why she does what she does, or what she has been through. I repeat myself but Kenji and Sammy are not the same, Kenji is hurt because of the things Brooklynn did to him, while Sammy is hurt because she assumes Brooklynn doesn't love her family simply because she doesn't treat them the way Sammy expects people to treat their loved-ones. I get that she wants to protect herself and that she has her own exterior reasons for feeling like this, but they're exactly that, exterior reasons that have nothing to do with Brooklynn. Brooklynn isn't responsible for Sammy's fall out with her family and neither is she for Sammy's initial fall out with Yasmina, but because of these two factors, Sammy immediately gives up on Brooklynn. She's only focused on the hurt she feels and never even tries to wonder if Brooklynn could have a reason to be doing what she's doing or what she's been going through. Brooklynn has lost an arm and, as Yasmina reminds Sammy, she has been all alone for months, but Sammy is too focused on her feelings and on her pre-existing struggles to even care about what could have been going on in Brooklynn's life. Sure, Sammy said it, she deserves better, but just like Sammy had stuff she had been going through, Brooklynn also did. I think what I'm trying to say is that Brooklynn at least deserved Sammy to give her the benefit of the doubt. She at least deserved that Sammy asked herself what had happened to her. But Sammy didn't, because of what happened with her family and Yaz, and instead redirected all her anger at Brooklynn.

Simply because Brooklynn doesn't treat her family the way Sammy wants to be treated doesn't mean that in her lonely, traumatized and socially akward mind she doesn't consider them family, but Sammy never considers that, she doesn't care about that.

But this isn't me saying that Sammy isn't justified in her anger. Brooklynn IS a shitty friend. But she's not being a shitty friend on purpose. She's just being her obsessive, unsensitive, clueless self who struggles and has ALWAYS struggled with her relationships. Sammy has always known that Brook was a shitty friend, but she only has a problem with it now that she has been wronged by other people.

[horseb0y]

Hey everyone, I wanted to inform that Siraj's original account, @siraj2024, has been inexplicably disabled by the site. It no longer appears when your search for it and he isn't able to do anything with it. All his posts have been wiped.

Here are the screenshots he sent me:

[Image ID: Two screenshots from active log-ins of Siraj's disabled account. The first shows a screenshot of his activity site, being completely blank, with two notices at the bottom:

The first, faded out, reads: "Authentication/Login is required to access this reso..."

And the second one, in red, reads: "We could not complete your request at this time".

The second screenshot shows Siraj's blog. His header, profile pic and description are visible, but all of his posts have been erased. The app states: "There's nothing here". /end ID].

He also told me he didn't get an email or any sort of notification by staff about this. It saddens him and he's worried his alt-accounts are at-risk of being closed too.

I'm not too sure what could be done to reverse this decision. Please let me know if there's a way we could remedy it.

In the meantime, he has asked me to tell everyone that his new main account is @siraj0. He made a post about it here.

Please remember to share and donate to his campaign. It's vetted by Gaza Evacuation Fund (#219.)

Currently at €7,184/€67,600, the last donation came in 2 hours ago.

Tagging for reach under the cut

@rhubarbspring @buttercuparry @feluka @appsa

@schoolhater @sayruq @tamamita @wellwaterhysteria

@comrademango @colombogramme @a-shade-of-blue

@watermotif @dykesbat @batricity @bixels

@is-there-a-filipino-legend-yet @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @prisonhannibal @akajustmerry

@mistress--kanzaki @junglejim4322 @queerstudiesnatural @skatezophrenic

@awetistic-things @autisticmudkip @belleandsaintsebastian @flower-tea-fairies

@tortiefrancis @theropoda @toiletpotato @tsaricides

@riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @virovac @acehimbo

@4ft10tvlandfangirl @ear-motif @khizuo @kordeliiius

@depressedthembo @killapunk @bandzboy @the-bastard-king

@thephenotype @memingursa @komsomolka @3000s

@mavigator @kyra45-helping-others @good-old-gossip @divorcedyaoi

@transmutationist @aristotels @ankle-beez @deepspaceboytoy

@voxaris @gayos-emerald @starry-system @nogender-onlystars

@murderbot @purplehikari @thegreatdemonzhuyan @butchmagicalboi

@feralparsnip @freedomfromtherivertothesea @oediex