#saves money on actually having to write a complete story

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

how are you going to post about protecting trans rights while funneling money to the pockets of the woman who directly helped fund the dismantling of trans rights in the UK. you don't actually support trans people, you can't even prioritize their very real lives over a shitty fictional franchise

First off, I have not given that woman any of my money since I first bought the books 20+ years ago. I never watched the movies, I have no intention of supporting the tv reboot, I have never bought any merch or gone to the theme park(s?). For all intents and purposes, I have been a giant mooch for the past 22 years, since I started reading HP fanfic.

Second off, I support trans people. In part because I fall under that umbrella (nonbinary), but mainly because they're fellow human beings. I want them to live and thrive and have the best lives possible. I donate to LGBTQ+ charities when I can afford to, I support my local queer organization, I am trying to do the work when and how I can. Do you do anything beyond sending anonymous hate online? I hope so.

I shouldn't have to answer to you, whoever you are, but I'm taking this opportunity to make my stance clear.

I do not support JKR nor any of her views. (By the way, she'd also hate me for being ace, apparently. New vileness every day from her, how delightful.) I have wrestled with writing and perpetuating affection for a series she created -- a series which has more than its share of problematic aspects in many regards, even beyond the author's attacks on trans women (and trans and queer people in general).

And everyone is welcome to handle that internal debate for themselves however they like -- I can completely understand wanting to wash your hands of it. But it brings me joy to play in this sandbox and make it hella queer, and work through and detangle the cruelty and hatred that are built into the fibre of the books by the author. I seek to uphold the message that the author forgot: That love can be a saving force. A truly astounding (to me) number of people have commented on my ace fics to say they felt seen and hopeful. I did that with one of my silly HP stories.

And through my interactions with the HP fandom, I have found the most wonderful group of friends -- many of whom fall under the LGBT+ umbrella -- and feel accepted and whole for what might be the first time in my life.

I'm not going to give that up because my activism and attitudes don't match yours. I'll just do the best I can.

[desertdragon]

This shit is so ass I just want it to be over

[scriptseekstories]

Queen Bee’s Hive

Chapter 5- Your Body, Your Choice

A/N: Guess who’s back gang? I legit couldn’t even think of what else to write on this chapter because my brain couldn’t grasp the concept of writing what I need to write lmao

The Wayne Family was not only a powerful family, not only the richest families in Gotham, but the most connected families within themselves.

They pride on despite everything they have gone through, they stuck with one another thick and thin. They cherished each other and never once made one stand out for being different.

Yet, one stood out. Or rather, never did.

Bruce wasn’t young to know what he did was wrong, but he wasn’t wise enough to fully know that his playboy persona should only be a mask and never enact on it.

(M/N) Raine was amongst the faces of one night stands, though Bruce had to admit she was as smart as she was beautiful. She wasn’t a face that grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth, she was one who grew up working hard to escape the low points she started off with.

Her brains got her scholarships, her strength got her rising with the elites, and her charm got her in bed with Bruce. It was Bruce who pursuit her first, it was Bruce was was smitten by her work, it was Bruce who gave in and it was Bruce who gave her what she wanted.

The fundings to her research was a way for Bruce to keep in touch with her, even if it was strictly professional. Little by little, (M/N) gave him a chance, and one fateful night they shared his bed.

But just like any other fling, Bruce waved her off while handing her extra money for herself. It was foolish to have her believe he actually cared, yet it didn’t stop a single tear from.

However, something stabbed Bruce in his heart. The pang of shame wearing him down the days passed when he never returned her calls. It got worse when a crime boss he had been searching for attacked the lab she and her team was in, burning every single part of the lab to ashes.

He couldn’t bear to even see her, not after failing to save years of research, all gone due to his aching heart. He was a coward, despite being Gotham’s Dark Knight, Bruce Wayne was a coward at heart.

The shame and guilt tipped over when Alfred informed him of taking custody to her child. His child. She was pregnant and she didn’t tell him. The hypocrisy didn’t fool him, he knew he was the one who cut contact first, so he didn’t know why he felt betrayed that he wasn’t informed of her pregnancy.

She never asked for child support, didn’t use her baby as blackmail. She simply moved on and took care of her child until she died.

Maybe that’s why he ignored you. Maybe that’s why he avoided looking at you. You were so much like your mother and him combined. Her eyes, the intense stare he always gives, her hair, his nose, everything reminded him what he foolishly lost.

He focused his attention to Jason, trying to fill the void of his own fears towards you. Dick was grown enough to leave for Blüdhaven, so he tried to regain his focus back on training Jason for the next Robin.

But he always stilted his progress when he saw you and Jason reading stories to one another, a big smile on your face when you actually had someone who loved you.

Regret washed over again, and out of his own guilt and insecurities, he pulled Jason away from you. And when he died, you were completely out of his view. Child after child he took in, he forgot about you.

You never complained, you never cried for him, how could he have known you were hurting? But he was immediately scolded by Alfred when he dared have the audacity to blame you. A child.

How dare he calls himself a good father when he had neglected his firstborn? His baby.

The time where Jason punched you? The time when Damien sliced a cut on your forehead, the many times of him tormenting you? He turned a blind eye. He didn’t want to tilt the routine of his life, even if it meant you had to suffer.

Truly, Bruce Wayne was a coward.

It all fell apart when that very day, he wanted to show Steph the importance of gardening, but things got a little rowdy, and Tim tossed a stick at a beehive.

That was when Alfred began to shout at them, that was when you arrived, that was when you finally let out everything that held in your heart. You told Bruce that you hated him, that you never wanted him as a father.

He got angry, appalled that you called him a bad father. How could you ever accuse him of not… not loving you? You were right. Deep down, the Bruce that was young and still in mourning of the life he might’ve had with your mother punched his heart. It was true, that he wasn’t the best dad, but he tried so hard to be one.

Just not to you.

The kids went silent. Dick looking very uncomfortable, yet quietly suggested to go and apologize. “Things just got blown out of proportion, lets show them it wasn’t a big deal,” He smiled, yet it wavered the moment he spoke. It didn’t feel right saying this was all wasn’t a big deal, it shouldn’t. Yet your eyes said it all. You hated everyone in the manor, and he couldn’t stand it.

Bruce was the first to walk inside, ever so slightly stumbling, trying to get upstairs. He’ll apologize to you, take you out to your favorite place… what was it again? Never mind, he’ll buy you all the things you want at the mall, and you’ll forgive him.

“Alfred, I-,” Bruce stopped when he saw Alfred running down the stairs. He looked frantic, terrified. He clutched the top of the stairway as if he had seen a ghost, face pale and knuckles white with how much he was gripping the railing.

“They’re gone!” Alfred exclaimed, “Master (Name)! They had run off! I do not know where they could be!” Bruce’s heart stop when he told him that. You ran off? Why?

He couldn’t even have his mind think properly at the fact he doesn’t know where your room was, he just stumbled backwards before running down the stairs, running past his kids.

“Signaling all Bats, we have a search to enact,” He called into his bat-watch, informing Barbara, Cass, and Jason who were currently working the night shift. The remaining three responded through the watch while the others began to run to the entrance to the cave.

“Missing child? Runaway teen? Kidnapped for ransom?” Barbara pondered while typing away at the computer. Bruce shook his head, as if she could even see him doing that.

“(Name), they ran off,” The moment he said that, Jason immediately scoffed and rambled about how you were probably throwing a tantrum. “Let the brat go, not like they-,” Alfred couldn’t prevent his anger from rising, grabbing Bruce’s wrist and pulled his watch to his face.

“Master Jason, this isn’t up for debate! Your sibling is somewhere within the dangerous parts of Gotham filled with many threats, and so help me if you do not march yourself into the Bat Cave!” He practically shouted in such rage, something they had never heard before.

Getting into the Bat Cave, Barbara was already typing onto the Bat Computer, a furrowed expression on her face as she wasn’t sure on where your location was. She never had bothered to keep up on you, now it was but her on the neck. Where were you?

Alfred, rubbing his face with his hand, paced around the Bat Cave before his eyes stopped at something, or someone. Duke was standing at the side, eyes filled with terror, hands fiddling with each other and breathing ragged.

Those were signs that told him that Duke knew something. Of course, why didn’t he asked him sooner? He has spent his day with you to who knows where? So he grabbed the boy by the shoulders, not caring that it made him yelp, and stared him straight into his eyes.

“Master Duke, if you have any knowledge on where they might be, please tell us!” Alfred was desperate, that he knew. He wasn’t going to let another one of his family members get abandoned, kidnapped, or killed, not Julia, not Jason, not Tim, not you.

Alfred’s shouts caused the others to snap their attention to the poor boy. Duke opened his mouth, yet nothing stammers managed to barely get choked out with how much his heart was racing.

“I-I,” Duke clenched his fists, knowing what he was about to do would break your trust in so many ways, but he just wanted you to be safe. He needed to keep you safe.

“Yes, I know exactly where they ran off to,”

꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁

CRASH

They located the warehouse that Duke said you would be at, which made their hearts race even more. It was reading between the somewhat good part of Gotham and the absolute worst parts. Why would you ever think this place was safer than the manor.

They crashed through the sunroof, slamming into the pavement. What they saw, was nothing they could ever imagine. Bruce’s eyes widened in seeing this… disgusting bee beast. Arms protruding out of its back, wings crooked and limp. It glowed, which showed the many eyes on its face.

It drooling blood, snarling a guttural noise while holding-

Oh god…

“GET AWAY FROM THEM!!” Damien was the first to speak, or rather scream. He lunged at the beats before anyone could stop him. The creature screeched while jumping away, letting out more choked feral noises. Bruce made his move and ordered for the others to surround this thing so they would kill it.

While the others cornered the bee-like thing, Bruce was slowly staggering towards your body. His ears rang and his vision blurred when he saw your gaping ripped back, blood do red it was black.

He shielded you when the beast managed to flee over their heads, grabbing beehive that had fallen onto the floor, before making eye contact with Bruce and flying.

“DON’T!!” He heard Duke shout, before Damien was tackled onto the floor with Duke pinning his wrists down, a terrifying look on his face.

“That’s all they ever had!! Don’t you DARE kill what’s left of them!!” He spat out, before quickly realizing what he didn’t and spluttered an apology, getting off of Damien.

“What the hell, Thomas?! We had it!!” Tim shoved Duke’s shoulder, but before anyone began to fight or argue, Dick stopped them, looking over at Bruce looking down at you.

“No… Not again…” The memories of Jason’s corpse, the memories of Tim being brainwashed, the memories of his children slipping away from his fingers, all of them were memories that forever guilted him.

But you… He never grew a bond with you, he never had photos on his desk when he worked, he never had family portraits involving you in anywhere. His one child that he was meant to love, gone.

“I-I’m… I’m sorry…” Bruce’s voice trembled ever so slightly, yet the way he whispered had his children knew he was breaking. His shaky gloved hands reached down for your corpse, cradling your head.

“We will find that beast that killed them,” Damien declared in a low tone, already staring up at the destroyed rooftop while brandishing his katanas. Yet his words of threat didn’t distract his trembling legs and tears.

Tim’s hands began to shake, heart in his throat as he wanted to shut out the sobs of Bruce. Dick tried to say something to him, to comfort his siblings, but not even himself can bring an uplift to this.

“Yeah, we’ll avenge them,” Steph placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder, attempting to give a comforting smile, yet there was little to no comfort to give right now. She felt tears slide down her face, soaking her mask as she felt dread and regret.

Jason didn’t even react the way his gun slid out of his hand, twitching while his eyes began to glow lazarus green. A warehouse… Bruce clutching onto a body… everything became all too familiar to him.

Cass gently lifted the broken frame that held the photo of you and your mother. She wiped the glass away while intently analyzing every single detail she spotted. The way your mother carried you safely in her arms, the way you held onto the golden medal around her neck, happily biting down on it while your mother attempted to prevent any teeth damage made Cass’ heart tighten even more.

You were happy.

You never were in the manor.

She pocketed the photo inside her utility belt, looking back at the others. They somberly looked down as they heard Bruce’s quiet sobs, clutching onto your body as if you were still there, holding him back.

“Call in Alfred…” Was what Dick whispered out. No one dared to call Alfred, not knowing how he would react knowing that you’re…

“(Name)…” Duke felt like throwing up. It didn’t feel real at all. One minute, you were spending time with him inside this lab, and the next…? One shaky hand lifted up and pressed the watch to call in.

They couldn’t bear to listen to Alfred’s cries of despair.

꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁

“Drink up, kid. And no biting this time,” Harvey pushed your hands to tighten your grip around the mug he handed you. It was hot chocolate, something he picked up that was your favorite drink. Your other armed pulled at blanket around your shoulders closer, not saying anything else as you slowly sipped your drink.

It took hours to finally calm you down, but you were now just silent and looked completely lost. Crane theorized your mental self is still somewhere deep inside the conscious of the beast you’re now in. You’re still you, but you’re in a constant battle of human and beast fighting for control.

“It had to be the result of their little research,” Ivy hissed to herself. You had always tanked on about your late mother’s project. You wanted to complete it in her name, but it obviously went wrong.

Nashton tossed a blanket over you before going out to find something for you to eat. Harley skipped over and crouched next to you, tilting my her head while nudging you slightly.

“So ya really don’t know any is us, kid? Not even little ol’ me?” Harley gave a big grin, poking her cheek. Your big eyes flickered upward for a moment, staring at her before pulling away and focused on your mug.

“N-ngh… I…” You croaked out, throat still burning from either the screeching or pain. Harley’s grin faltered before giving a silent nod and patting your knee.

“How did something so horrific happen to such a sweet soul like them?” Selina frowned. She remembered the time you willingly picked up a stolen jewel she ran off with and happily gave it back to her. She was dumbfounded but found you endearing.

“You’d be surprised how many of us were “sweet souls” before life screwed us over,” Nashton called out before returning back to his hunt for food you liked. Ivy pushed Harley to the side so she wouldn’t provoke you and Getty lifted your chin with a vine.

“Hey, Bumblebee, you finally able to talk?” She asked gently. You could only nod before opening your mouth, your fangs sharp and prominent. However it was nothing they’re not used to, as they had villains with sharp fangs.

“S-scared…” You managed to choke out, gently cradling your throat. Ivy nodded, satisfied that this was a process no matter how slow it may be.

“I know you’re scared, Bumblebee, but you just have to listen to us,” She informed you with a gentle yet stern look. She held your large hands in hers, shivering that your other pairs of hands clasped them too, yet she continued.

“The Bats are after you for whatever reason, and we need to know why,” Ivy hates to admit it, but if the reason they’re after you if bigger than them, they cannot keep you here for refuge.

“D…Don’t K-…know,” Your brain could only remember so much, yet so little. You can barely remember the years you spent in a dark place. All you can ever remember is your mother, nothing else.

“H-Hive… I-…It saved me…” You rubbed a thumb over the lines of the hive. One bee crawled out of the entrance and buzzed around your finger, as if snuggling against you for comfort.

“I do-… n-not know why the h… hive chose me, but i-…it did,” Your glow illuminated brighter, “And I… I think-k… that it a-…always had,” A fuzzy memory of you cradling the hive flashed for a brief moment before it went blank.

“M-My fam-…ily…” Yeah, you could remember them, yet barely. There were many, young and old. Parents- no, one parent. Yet the one memory you can recall was- “T-…they made m…me th-this w… way…” Tears formed in your eyes, jaw wobbling from crying.

“Poor honeypot, the world is too cruel for you. You should let me handle your family,” Selina extended one of her claws. She might not know who your family is, but they are horrible people to treat you poorly.

“Seek revenge, kid,” Harvey clicked her tongue, “They’ve done nothing but hurt you, made you feel unseen, have them see you now!” He grasped his brass knuckles so tightly in his hands.

“Have them taste the fear you have endured,” Crane pulled his Scarecrow mask over his face and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Just beat their head open, kid!” Harley beamed while grabbing her baseball bat and slammed it against her palm with a wild grin. Your hands began to shake from the overwhelming suggestions, none that you liked.

“Hey,” Ivy glared at the others before turning back to you, “Bumblebee. Society may have wronged us, but do you really want to be like us?” You looked up at her before the others. They were familiar, your memories were kind enough to let them be remembered.

You can recall skating past them, only blurry visions of them smiling. They were outcasted by the city, yet you knew vaguely why. They hurt people like how people hurt them. They weren’t monsters like you, but they weren’t kind either.

“No…” You shook your head, “I-I j-just want… to… be-… belong,” Ivy rubbed her face before cradling your face, staring into your eyes before resting your head into her chest. You closed your eyes as you heard her heartbeat comfort you in a peaceful.

You were on your own now in this city.

Buzzzzz

You just needed someone to guide you.

A/N: This may be short, mostly because I got more stuff to right in the next chapter, but here you go! Sorry for not posting, but writer’s block is a huge bitch, ya know?

Poor reader, things will get better. Also, Selina does NOT know your family is the Waynes, I’ll get to that later.

Taglist: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star @moon0goddess @bad4amficideas @lettucel0ver @lithiumval @degenerates-posts @ryuushou @deathbynarcisstick @silverklaus @artistwithcreativeburnout @middevil465 @jsprien213 @1abi @oliviaewl @redkarmakai @nxdxsworld @the-dumber-scaramouche @sc3n3mo-t3to @tw-om-gi-hs-56387 @bunniotomia @welpthisisboring @rad4bean @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2

[slut4thebroken]

Idol

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Request: “Milking fic with Crane on his hands and knees gasping and whining as his semen is harvested by an obsessed grad student who idolizes his work and wants his kid”

Warnings | Smut, non con, sedation, prostate massage, milking machine, semen collection, light bondage, noncon drugging, forced breeding??, anal fingering, forced orgasm.

Words | 1.6 k

Notes | yeah.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 30: can you guys help me figure out what I should use pretty please💀

Dr. Crane was by far your favorite professor at Gotham University. He was intriguing and alluring, but also really fucking hot. For a while, he worked at GU and Arkham Asylum, but right before you got your bachelors, he quit his teaching job to take over as the head psychiatrist at Arkham, much to your disappointment. 

You tried to get an internship at Arkham, but you were rejected. It was hard to contain your anger, but you just focused on the endgame, rather than this temporary setback. 

Once Dr. Crane was outed as being the Scarecrow and thrown into the very institution he used to run, things made a lot more sense— like his fascination with fear, the students that would sometimes go missing or randomly drop out with no explanation… The new discovery of his alter ego only deepened your obsession. 

After someone replaced him, you applied for the internship again, but you were accepted this time because, along with Jonathan, a lot of other staff had been arrested for being involved, so they needed the help. 

Then you bided your time. You weren’t actually allowed to see any patients alone as an intern, so you had to work around that…

After hatching a plan, you spent the next few weeks gaining the trust of your superiors and saving up money to buy the right “equipment.” Since this was Arkham, everyone was already far too lax about the rules… So it was no surprise when your plan progressed smoothly. 

“Doctor, I was wondering if I might be able to see Jonathan Crane? I’m writing my dissertation on ethical violations in psychiatric treatment— An interview with him would be invaluable to my research.” She still looked unsure, so you added, “I know it’s unorthodox… Maybe you would feel more comfortable with the idea if you accompanied me?”

“No, I don’t have time for that. Just…” she let out a quiet breath, seemingly coming to a decision, “I’ll set up a private interview for you, but don’t be surprised if he doesn’t talk.”

You weren’t completely lying— an interview with him would be invaluable to your dissertation… just not about that specific topic… Honestly, you didn’t even really need to interview him for your real topic, this was just the cover story you used to get alone time with him. 

Two weeks later, you were walking to the private room to meet with him. 

“Professor.” You smiled, sitting down across from him, setting your bag on the floor and the disposable coffee cup on the table. 

“I’m not a professor.” He said coldly, but you weren’t deterred. 

“Sorry… Old habits die hard.” Your smile turned sheepish and you couldn’t help but blush under his intense gaze. “I can’t believe I’m finally here right now.”

“Are you here to interview me or swoon like a teenage girl?” He asked rhetorically. Instead of frowning, his quip actually made your smile widen. 

“I wish I could’ve worked under you. That was my real dream.” You confessed, getting a little lost in thought before snapping out of it. “Oh! I brought you some coffee. Black— I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I figured that was a safe guess.” You smiled, sliding the cup over to him. “As a thank you for meeting with me.”

“It’s not like I really had a choice.” He muttered, grabbing the cup and taking a tentative sip, making you practically grin— Your plan was going perfectly.  

“I promise I won’t take up too much of your time— Though I can’t imagine you really have a lot going on lately...”

“Perceptive.” He said dryly, focusing on the coffee that he probably hasn’t been able to drink since before he was admitted. 

Soon enough, his movements grew sluggish, his eyes struggling to stay open as he fought the sedative. Once he was pliant enough, you got up and lifted him to his feet with some difficulty, then laid him down on his stomach on the table with his feet still touching the floor. You grabbed the restraints from your bag and extended his arms forward, attaching his wrists to two legs of the table just in case, before doing the same with his ankles. He was grumbling something, but it was mostly unintelligible, so you ignored it.  

When you pulled his pants down to his ankles, he barely reacted and you moaned quietly at the sight of him. His cock was soft, but it was still just so pretty… You ached to taste it, touch it, feel it— but you knew you couldn’t this time.

Because of money and what you’d be able to sneak in here, you were only able to get the milking machine for his cock. So you attached that and made sure the tube and collection jar were secured to it, then grabbed some lube and put it on your fingers. He was already whimpering at the feeling of the automatic pump stroking his cock, but he let out a choked sound when you pushed a finger in his asshole, immediately searching for his prostate. As soon as you found it, you started applying steady pressure in small, circular movements. 

Honestly, you thought it would take a lot longer, but after a few minutes— probably because he’s been stuck in an asylum for months— come was already starting to dribble out of his cock, landing in the pump and trailing down to the collection jar. 

His sounds were making your clit throb, but you ignored it, knowing you had to focus on extracting his seed. Once you managed to knock yourself up with his kid, then you could have some fun with him. 

He was gasping and whining, his hips squirming as the pump relentlessly milked his poor cock while you massaged his prostate. He let out a guttural moan when you pushed a second finger inside, scissoring them a little bit, but mostly focusing on rubbing his prostate to get him to release more come. 

You almost couldn’t believe how easy this was. However, you kept looking over your shoulder at the door just in case, feeling like you should’ve been caught by now or something. But no one came in. You were left completely alone with your favorite professor and future baby daddy. 

The jar was filling up with his seed quickly, but you didn’t stop— how could you when he sounded so hot all drugged out like this, moaning wantonly while you collected his sperm? 

Unable to resist the temptation to taste any part of him, you angled your arm up to give yourself more room, then leaned forward to start lapping at his balls, sucking them into your mouth. They were pulsing with each stream of come that gushed out of his cock, being drained properly and fully. You moaned around him, laving at his balls like they were your favorite dessert, making his cock leak even more.  

A sudden knock on the door made you pull back and freeze, your blood running cold. “Five minutes.” Someone said from the other side of the metal, making you relax slightly. 

“O-Okay.” You replied, then breathed a silent sigh of relief before getting back to business. 

You intensified your efforts, zeroing in on his prostate with your fingers while you sucked and licked at his balls greedily. The pump was still stroking his cock and Jonathan was all but trembling as he laid on the table, spread out for you. His sounds were almost pained, but you knew he was feeling incredible— he wouldn’t be coming so much if he weren’t. 

You couldn’t help it when you slipped a hand between your legs, but you could barely even focus on rubbing your clit so you resorted to humping your fingers. You knew you wouldn’t have enough time to come today, but you could come as much as you wanted while you inseminated yourself at home. 

He was whining even louder and started squirming a little more, so you reluctantly pulled back, now able to see that the trickle of come from his cock had slowed down significantly. So you carefully pulled your fingers out of his ass, forcing a choked sound out of him, then you reluctantly turned off the pump, making him sag onto the table in a limp heap. His cock was still dripping a little, so you leaned forward before you could stop yourself and suckled on the red, swollen tip, moaning at the taste. It was hard to make yourself pull back, already so addicted to his come.

After putting the lid on the collection jar and putting the milking machine back in your bag, you pulled his pants up and removed the restraints, then struggled to get him back in his chair. 

Knowing you didn’t have a lot of time, you quickly grabbed the syringe from your bag— a counteragent for the sedative that was in the coffee— and injected it into his arm, then stood up on shaky legs just as the warden knocked again. Jonathan’s eyes were slowly blinking open, struggling to regain focus. You made sure nothing was out of place, then grabbed the half empty coffee cup and walked over to the door. 

“I’m all done.” You called out, prompting the warden to open the door. You walked through the threshold and he looked you up and down, searching for anything wrong. 

“He give you any trouble?” He asked gruffly, making you smile. 

“He was a little reluctant to talk at first, but he gave me so much to work with eventually.” You said with a knowing smile, your eyes glinting. 

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Last Part

Word Count: 13.8k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: fem!reader, sub!gyu, dom!reader, dom!gyu, sub!reader, fingering, handjobs, missionary, doggy, mentions of previous noncon, yandere behaviour, violence, bodily harm, alienation

You still have the dreams, the memories, the torment. They never went away despite you trying your goddamn hardest. Your brain seems to conjure them up harder and more vividly the more you work to push them away. You don't know if Beomgyu knows this but he's beside you every possible second of every day, keeping you busy and helping to push it all away, or at least distract you from it. 

You've quit your job. Beomgyu isn't unreasonable. He will help you get another job, just as soon as you feel better. But not right now. You're not ready yet. You need rest and he makes sure you get it, devoting every second he's not at his job or getting you food and stuff you need to taking care of you.

He wanted you to move away, just pack your things and get away from this place that had brought you both such grief, but you couldn't go through with it. Not yet. You had freaked out when he suggested it, telling you it would do you good to get a fresh start and get away from Taehyun but you know he wouldn't be the only one you'd be getting away from. All your friends are here. Your family is here. And even though you're hardly seeing them right now, you know it wouldn't be right to completely uproot yourself from everything you've ever known except Beomgyu. Even though you'd promised to completely and fully devote yourself to only him, you know it can't be good for your already unstable mental state.

You tell him that you'd feel so terribly alone if you move away, especially when he goes to work. So he offers to quit his job to spend all his time with you, explaining that he has put aside some savings he could use for the time being but you still refuse. You tell him that you'd be horribly selfish to let him waste the little precious money he saved up just so he can babysit you but you don’t tell him about how much it scares you to cross that last boundary, to let him completely and utterly devour your entire life despite something at the bottom of your soul telling you to just give it to him.   

Beomgyu reassures you that he doesn’t mind. He wants to spend his money to make sure you're taken care of, but you still refuse. You stand your ground and hold onto the last shred of your life that is not his–for what? You don’t know–and he reluctantly lets it go, for now at least. 

Instead, he uses the time he does have with you to pamper you, feeding you breakfast in bed, getting you things to occupy your time while he's away, drawing baths for you when he gets home from work. It all feels so terribly familiar. The sense of deja vu choking you but Beomgyu is determined to mentally and physically push it all out of your mind and take its place instead. 

He only reads you happy poems and stories, only sings you cheerful love songs. You feel like he’s lulling you into a deep slumber. You're still where you've always been–your friends and family are still within reach, your old life is there to reclaim if you want to–but it's like he'd succeeded in putting a wall between you and the world just like he wanted, and it scares you that you can't tell if that is a good or bad thing. Maybe you should just give into him, fall into him and dissolve into his being until no one will ever be able to pull you apart again. 

You feel his fingers knead the skin of your shoulders as he sits behind you in the bathtub–once again using his free time after work to take care of you instead of giving himself a break after working hard all day. Bubbles and candles surround you, the calming scent of them permeating your brain like a drug, aided by the glass of wine in your hand, to lull you further into your slumber. You let out small hums of appreciation under Beomgyu's expert hands that seem to know you better than you know yourself. How does he know where exactly to touch to unwind a particular knot in your back or relieve a certain stress that has been nagging you for a while? All you have to do is sit there and sip your wine, letting the groggy feeling from the liquid combine with the blissful pleasure of Beomgyu's touch to submerge you deeper into a dreamy state that one day you may never wake up from. 

“There is this beach I was reading about online that I'd like to visit.” You tell him lazily and he chirps happily. He always gets so excited when you initiate any outings or dates to go on and it makes that familiar tender spot in your heart ache at how selfish you’re being. He tries so hard to make you happy and fill your life up with fun and exciting things to do to distract you from the loneliness, and yet you so rarely respond in kind. “Sure. Anything you want, my love.” 

You smile, hearing the relief in his voice, and you go on, a little more excitedly. “It's near that old medieval castle at the cliff top. It's very popular.” 

“Oh, that place.” His hands falter and you can feel a sudden strange chill in the air. “It's just an overrated touristy spot. I know plenty of other beaches that are better.”

You pout. You didn't expect his response. He is usually happy to do whatever you want and you had actually been looking forward to going to that particular beach for a while. “But I want to go there. The beach looks really nice and I thought I could even go explore that old abandoned castle with my prince.” You giggle, trying to crane your head back to send him a flirty look but the expression you find on his face wipes all hints of playfulness off yours.

“And I don't want to. Pick literally anywhere else.” His response is strangely irritated and you frown. You should probably drop it. He is right. There are plenty of nice beaches around. You don't have to go to that particular one. But something about his sharp refusal prompts you to dig more. Stupid girl. Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat? 

“Why do I need to when we can just go there?” You huff, tension creeping back into your shoulders. 

“I said no.” He rebuts with no explanation and your fiery temper sparks through the heavy fog that has been weighing on your brain. 

“Oh, you said no? Well then if Master says no then I guess that's the end of it.” You snap, your anger begging for you to let it catch fire.  

“Why are you being difficult? I thought you said you'd listen to me?” 

And just like it, he snuffs it all under his finger. You immediately shut down. How long is he going to hold that over your head? You've quit your job. You haven't spoken to Taehyun since then. You hardly see your friends. You stay home waiting for him like a dutiful little housewife. What more does he want from you? You know you've made a mistake. You know you promised to make it up to him and regain his trust, but surely asking to visit a stupid beach doesn't count as a potential breach of trust, does it? 

“Forget it.” You mumble, deflated. You were really looking forward to going there. The place looked super pretty online. It was one of the few places lately that have managed to get you excited at the prospect of visiting them. It held a certain vibrant draw to it when everything else seemed gray and dull in comparison. But you guess you can’t have even that.

You try to get out of the bath, no longer in the mood for intimate messages, but Beomgyu holds you back. Of course, he does. 

“Wait.” You hear Beomgyu sigh and let his hands drop to the water to circle around your waist and pull your body back against him, his lips kissing the junction between your neck and shoulder gently, apologetically. “I'm sorry, baby. I just have a bad feeling about that place. Can't you trust me on that?”

A bad feeling about the place? What the fuck does that mean? It’s just a beach, what could possibly go wrong there? 

Still, you hesitate. You didn’t think that anything could go wrong by being friends with Taehyun either and that Beomgyu was being overly jealous and paranoid but here you are. Maybe if you go there you'll fucking drown or something crazy like that.

You suppose you can give him that. You know if you had a bad feeling about a place, Beomgyu would not force you to go there. It probably wouldn’t be fun anyway if you make him go and he hates every second of it. You want to do something you both enjoy. 

But you really wanted to visit that place. Maybe you should go when he's at work… 

No. Just the idea of going out in public alone without Beomgyu makes you shudder. You can't handle being around people without Beomgyu's comforting presence to rely on. He's got you right where he wants you.

“Fine.” You say in a small voice, finally relenting. 

“Thank you, princess.” He sighs in relief and the tension in the air begins to dissipate once again. “I know you’re bored. I promise to take some time off work and take you on a nice vacation somewhere. How does that sound?”

“Okay.” You mumble unenthusiastically. 

“Come on. Cheer up.” He holds your jaw gently and turns you towards him, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that slowly turns sensual. 

“Beomgyu…” You whine into his mouth, the water shifting as you rub your thighs together. He will never not have an effect on you. You’re too weak for him. 

“I know, princess.” His hand drops between your legs, loosening you up. “I got you.”

His light touches are as strong as electric currents coursing through your veins, and before long, you find yourself squirming in his hold, pushing yourself closer to his touch while paradoxically trying to get away from the intense feeling at the same time. 

But he doesn’t let you. He throws his other arm over you, caging you into place as he takes a hold of your breasts, kneading them until your nipples have pebbled in need. 

“Baby…” You keen, pushing your breasts further into his hand, and crying out as he pulls one of your perked nipples between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Relax for me, baby.” He hums, holding you in place as he works his fingers inside you. It stings a bit as the water dilutes your arousal but he throws your legs on either edge of the tub to give him more space for his fingers to easily breach your hole, the heel of his palm working in tandem to bring you to the edge so scarily fast that you barely even register the sharp bite of his teeth on your neck as he zealously marks you. “Let me take care of you.” 

It’s a spell–a bid to get you to let go, and it’s so hard to not give in when he makes it feel so damn good. 

You're so exposed like this. Even though there is no one here to see you but Beomgyu, it feels like the whole universe is watching him spread you open to his satisfaction and no amount of faux demurity would fool the universe into believing you're not a willing participant in all of this. It's hard to care about your debauched display when your orgasm was heating you up from the inside so much you feel like you might spontaneously combust. Why is it always so intense with him? How does he do it so well? 

You may never know but what you do know is that your orgasm was rolling towards you like the water rolling over the edge of the tub, sharp and sudden, and when it reaches you it threatens to take you under. But Beomgyu holds your head above the water as his relentless fingers continue to fuck you until you yield to his will. You break apart under his touch, forgetting about everything except him in those few moments, forgetting about the beach, the castle, Taehyun and everything you've lost–the only thing registering in your mind is Beomgyu's touch, Beomgyu's smell, Beomgyu's warmth.  

“Beomgyu, Beomgyu, Beomgyu!” You cry as your whole body convulses in his arms, yet it doesn't slip from his hold for even a second, and when you finally come down from your quaking orgasm, you're still in his hold but half of the bath water had spilled over the edge, exposing your skin to the chilly room air–a stark contrast to the searing heat of Beomgyu’s hard cock pressing against you lower back as he tries to subtly jerk himself off against you, and it's your turn to hold him in the palm of your hand.

His quiet desperation brings even more memories to mind, memories of prince Beomgyu needily humping you in frantic attempt to get off, secret exclamations of desire and forbidden love whispered hotly on the skin of your neck or ears or breasts as he mounts you like a dog in heat in a way that he makes sure to tell you is not befitting the image of a prince like him. 

But when you turn around, it's your Beomgyu you see there, a regular college student on the surface, though nothing about him is regular. Is he really even your Beomgyu? The image of him in front of you shimmering and wavering between the Beomgyu you know and prince Beomgyu, and you're not sure which one is real anymore.

“You’re perfect.” He tries to reach out to you but you put his hands on either edge of the bathtub. “Keep those there.”

“Baby–” He starts to whine but shuts up when you grab his submerged cock and start jerking him off roughly. More water splashes out of the tub but neither of you care. He'll clean it up after anyway and you don’t even feel guilty about it. 

“Please, please.” He cries pathetically as if you're the one in control.

“Please what?” You ask curiously as if you're expecting him to suddenly reveal something that would make sense of the tangled mess you've made of him in your mind. 

“Anything.” 

You snort. “God, if someone is to see you like this they'd think I never touch you. You've been cumming every day, in my hand, my mouth, my ass, my cunt, on my face, my tits, my back…”

“It's not enough.” He shakes his head, looking delirious. “Never enough.”

“Well if it's not enough then what's the point of me doing this?” You taunt, going to pull your hand away from him but his own hands quickly fly out to grab yours and put it back on his cock as his whole body springs forward to get close to you as if he could glue his body to yours so you can't escape. “No! Please!”

“Get your hands off me.” You growl and he quickly puts his hands back on the tub's edge, trying to appease you so you wouldn’t deny him, but it’s not enough. He has to feel as helpless as he makes you feel and so you push him away roughly, his head almost hitting the ceramic as his back meets the wall of the tub. 

“You can't keep your hands to yourself, huh?” You purr, raising your free hand to his chest to play with his nipples, making his back arch and his fingers turn as white as the ceramic they're gripping onto while your other hand twists over his cock. 

“Sorry.”

God, you hate hearing that false word fall out of his mouth. You're pretty sure Beomgyu has never been sorry for anything in his life. 

“Are you?” You challenge, squeezing your hand around the head of his cock tightly. “Are you really sorry?” 

“Princess?” He cocks his head to the side innocently, as if he has no idea what you’re talking about. God, how he drives you crazy. “Please, I’ve been good.” 

Has he? You can’t tell anymore. He's poisoned your mind so much you can't think straight. 

You sigh, jerking him off fast, hard, knowing that the only thing that can soothe your troubled mind right now is watching your tormenter–your everything–fall apart in your grip just like he had done to you over and over again. And he doesn't disappoint. 

“Fuck! Oh, gods, I'm so close.” 

“Gods?” You laugh. That’s new. “I'm your only god, baby.”

“Yeah… only you.” He easily agrees with whatever you say, no thoughts behind his big adoring eyes, his body lying limp in the bathtub, only his hips moving to meet your fist everytime it goes down to smack against his pelvis. “Wanna cum for you. Worked so hard for it.”

“You did, didn't you?” You coo, one of your thumbs brushing against his hard nipples while the other teases the slit of his leaking cock. “Worked so hard to take care of me. Just need a little bit of attention in return, don't you?”

He nods eagerly, his lewd unabashed moans echoing all around the small bathroom as his high builds and builds, not daring to snap without your divine order. “Please, please…”

“Poor baby.” You tsk, looking at the man laid out before you and knowing in your heart of hearts that he was far from innocent. 

Rotten. That's the word that comes to mind when you look at him and you can't put your finger on why. But then why does he still look so beautiful to you? 

“Cum for me, love.”

“Yes! Thank you!” He cries out, his cum shooting out of his cock and immediately dispersing in the soapy water, tainting it like he's tainted you but you can’t get yourself to get away from it, the same way you can't get yourself to get away from him. You're rotten too now.  

“I love you so much.” He slurs as his body sinks into the water. 

“I know.” You do. It's the only thing you can be sure of anymore in the confusing mess that has become your life. That and “I love you too.”

___________________________

“Taehyun, what are you doing here? How did you get this address?” Your slow dreamy life comes into sudden disturbing focus when you see the one person you've been hiding from standing right outside your door. But your barrage of questions can't stop him from pushing past you into the apartment and back into your life. 

“I got your address from Yujin.” He explains once he's in and you look around in worry. He shouldn't be here. You'd barely managed to convince Beomgyu not to hurt him when he found out you had kissed him. What is he going to do if he finds him alone with you in the apartment while he's at work? You can't even let yourself think about it. It's too terrifying. You need to get him out. Why the fuck would Yunjun give him your address? Is she doing this to get back at Beomgyu? To get back at you? 

“Please leave. Beomgyu is going to lose his shit if he sees you.” You tell him as if that's not the understatement of the century. But Taehyun doesn’t appear to be phased. 

“I know. He is very dangerous. That's why I'm here.” He tells you, calmly acknowledging your statement that would have anyone else possibly running for the hills. “I have to tell you something. I think you were right. I think the dreams are memories.” 

You freeze in your spot, all thoughts of getting him out of here suddenly put on the backburner. What the hell is he saying? Has he gone crazy too?

You have secretly, shamefully, been harboring that rotten suspicion for a while now. The dreams just all felt too real to just be dreams. Nothing that vivid, that detailed, could just be the product of a slumbering mind, right? Besides, it didn't even stop at the dreams. You were having these “recollections” even while you're awake now, but you don’t dare believe them to be real memories because what would that mean for you? Best case scenario is that you've officially lost your mind and worst case scenario is that all of those dreams and images actually are real and Beomgyu really did all those awful things. You did all those awful things for him. 

“What makes you say that?” You gulp, asking cautiously. This feels like one of those moments that could forever change the trajectory of your life and maybe if you keep a cool safe distance away, you'd come out of this unscathed.

“I have been having more of them too. They have been plaguing my every sleeping moment, my every waking moment. They’re driving me insane–” He looks up at you and his expression almost knocks you off your feet. You know that look all too well. You see it in the mirror every day now. It’s the look of someone feeling themselves going mad and hoping that they really are because the alternative is just too cruel to consider–all the grief, all the blood, all the loss. No, it’s simply too much to bear, and you can hear the same torment you’re running from twisting his voice as he goes on. “Memories of us together… we were married in your dreams, right?”

His face is afflicted with an agony so raw it lashes against your skin in thick, bitter strokes that leave you gasping.  You never told him that. How did he know that? Okay, calm down. Breathe. This doesn't mean anything. He just had a lucky guess. Nothing more. 

“Yeah.” You admit slowly, watching him cautiously as if waiting for a further attack from him, and he doesn't disappoint. 

“You left me for him.” He says, an accusation in his voice that makes you falter. He is speaking to you as if he’s now fully convinced that the dreams are true, as if you really were married and you’d left him for Beomgyu. 

“No!” It feels strange defending something that a possibly fictional, possibly real version of you may have done because she's not you!--or is she? You didn’t leave him but you did. You don’t have to answer for her crimes but you feel compelled to try to anyway. “I thought I was saving you.”

But that just makes him angry, his fury so deep it couldn’t possibly have just been born today. It feels ancient, the edge of it sharpening over centuries. “Don't lie. That's not why you left.”

“It is. I swear. I just wanted to save you. I wanted to save everyone.” Your words sound insane even to your own ears but they're tumbling out of your mouth before you can even fully process them, again feeling compelled to defend yourself. You don’t even understand half of what you’re fighting about–your only aid in this battle are half-formed images of a fabled previous life you don’t want to remember.

“You’re lying to yourself.” He spits out bitterly, his visage taking on a hue that makes him look much older than he actually is–that makes him look like the Taehyun from your dreams, afflicted by loss and death and forced to grow up way too quickly. And here he is again, aging years in the blink of an eye. “You knew how crazy he was. You knew he wouldn't stop and you didn’t care. You just wanted to go back to him. You never fucking cared.”

“I didn't. I swear to god–” The way his conversation was heading brings a fresh wave of nauseating deja vu crashing onto you. You shake your head, trying to dispel whatever Folie a deux you both seem to have fallen victim to. You need to pull the plug on this insanity before you completely lose your mind. 

“Forget it. This is insane. Those memories aren't real. We're just working ourselves up into a frenzy. My brain has obviously sprung up all that shit out of my anxiety regarding me and Beomgyu's relationship, and after I told you about them, you started dreaming them up too.” You narrow your eyes at him as you attempt to rationalize your way through this mess, “Or you're taking advantage of my obvious mental instability to convince me to ditch my boyfriend to be with you.”

That must be it. It's the only explanation that makes sense and you try to hold onto it like a woman drowning, but Taehyun refuses to let you. 

“For fuck's sake, woman, wake up!” He grabs you by the shoulder and shakes you as if he could forcefully shake off the walls of denial you’ve been trying to build around yourself. “It's me. We've been reincarnated again for some sick reason and we're forced to relive everything we've done again, just in a different setting. Maybe it's a punishment. Maybe it's a test to see if we would choose differently. Choose right.”

“And the right choice is you?” You ask and he scoffs, looking affronted by the mere idea of there being a question about it. “It clearly isn't him. After all he's done to you. He imprisoned you. He raped you… He killed you.”

He looks as if he doesn't fully realize what he'd said until he’d said it, as if the returning memory was compelling his tongue to speak before it's been fully realized in his brain, and as the memory passes through him to you, you suddenly feel a sharp, piercing pain in your abdomen. It only lasts for a second but it draws the breath right out of you. For that second it feels like your soul is being carried away on that breath and you panic at the terrifyingly all too familiar sensation of dying. No. No. No.

But just as suddenly as that breath was exhaled, it was shoved back into your chest when Taehyun covers the phantom wound with his hand. Your own hands quickly clasp around his, and your eyes widen in a gruesome realization. 

“He killed our baby.” You whisper, your face suddenly wet with tears you didn't realize were there. Oh god. You're the dead ex-girlfriend, aren't you? There was never anyone else. It was always you.

“He did. He wasn’t going to let anyone have you if he couldn’t. Even your own child.” Taehyun says, allowing a painful melancholy back into his voice. “So he stole you from the world.” 

You and Taehyun slowly and fearfully piece together this traumatic past life you seemed to share, some details you had already recalled before while others were triggered by Taehyun’s own mad recollections. It's not a perfect story. There are many gaps in it but the main frame is enough. 

You were a Lady at Prince Beomgyu's royal palace. You loved each other but couldn't be together because he was betrothed to someone else, couldn't even tell eachother. But Beomgyu was secretly plotting to keep you bound to him, and it was working until Taehyun came into the picture and you developed an interest in each other. Beomgyu didn’t like that and he went crazy and… he hurt you. That pushed you to finally escape from him and marry Taehyun but your marriage wasn't perfect and Beomgyu took advantage of that. He threatened the lives of thousands, including Taehyun, if you didn’t go back to him. Taehyun told you not to but you did. You thought you'd be saving him and everyone else but you had just stupidly walked into Beomgyu's trap. He never intended to let Taehyun live. And when you finally realized your mistake, when you saw Taehyun's life on the line, you acted in a moment's frenzy to save him, plunging your knife right into Beomgyu's heart and ultimately succumbing to a fatal wound he dealt to you in response with a kiss and a promise that he'd find you again.

And he did. Gods help you, he did. 

It's a horrific story, disgusting, cruel, and you don’t want to believe it. It can't be. 

“We have to go. We have to leave before he comes back.” Taehyun pulls on your arm but you hesitate, automatically digging your heels on the ground and not letting him move you. He stares at you in shock. “You can't be serious? You're choosing him again after everything?”

You shake your head, panicking. “No, Taehyun–”

You want to tell him that you haven't chosen anything. You just don't know enough to make a decision. You still don't know if any of this is actually real or if you're both just mad. Even if your brain tells you it is, your heart tells you that it can't be true. This is ridiculous. Beomgyu loves you. He would never do this to you. And who is to say that he even knows any of this himself? What if he's just like you and Taehyun were at first, only feeling an inexplicable sense of love for you and hatred towards Taehyun that he doesn’t even understand the source of? Is that why he had been acting so irrational and scared to lose you? Because he has all these emotions he can't explain? 

And what about Taehyun? Yes, you had something maybe in a past life but does any of that translate into right now? Can you abandon Beomgyu and the real love you have for each other in order to build a relationship based just on memories of a previous life that ended tragically for all of you? Did that past Taehyun even love you?

You want to explain all of that to him but you don't even get the chance to before you're interrupted by the sound of keys turning in the front door's lock. 

Your eyes widen and fear grips your heart. Despite what you tell yourself about none of this being real, you suddenly fear for Taehyun's life. 

“Hide. Please, hide.” You try to tell him but he's not listening to you. He has no intention of hiding and you can see that when he grabs your hand and pulls you behind him roughly. 

When Beomgyu steps into the house and sees you, all doubt in your heart about the memories being false dash out of the room with the first word out of his mouth. 

“Again?” He asks coldly, viciously. “I knew from the moment you met him that this would happen. Even centuries later you can’t fucking help but act like a slut when he's around, huh?”

“You knew.” You croak, throat closing up to try to prevent that breath from escaping once again, fear shaking you to your core. “You always knew.”

You were too kind. Too stupid. He wasn't acting crazy because he loves you so much and was afraid of losing you. He wasn't acting crazy because he didn't understand his own feelings. He was acting crazy because he's done this before and he’ll be damned if he lets you ruin it again. 

"Of course I did. I have to find you every time.” 

“Every time?” The shaking spreads to your heart, weakening it, throwing off its rhythm. Your poor, naive heart that doesn’t know what to do with itself when the one person it loved and trusted in the world has been lying to it this whole time. “This happened more than once before?”

He laughs cruelly. “This, something else, the details differ but it's always us. Me and you.” He turns to Taehyun with rage that could hardly be contained in the small room. “Not him. I haven't seen him since that first time. The gods really wanted to piss me off this time.”

“Or maybe they wanted her to finally break free from you.” Taehyun's grip tightens around you–to hold you back or to protect you, you don’t know–something that Beomgyu doesn’t fail to notice, his upper lip curling in a snarl, clearly displeased that Taehyun even dares to touch you. But before he can act out on his rage, you speak up. 

“So what? We just keep getting reincarnated and reliving this misery over and over again?” You’re surprised he hears you when you can hardly hear yourself. 

“You do. Not me. I was only reincarnated once, right after we died. I spent many lifetimes in your tomb, mourning you. I thought that was what I was brought back for and I would've stayed there forever but I was drawn out by the gods who wanted me to realize they’ve sent you back again and again for me to find you. It's amusing to them, to see me suffer and lose you.” 

He knew from the beginning. He knew lifetimes ago and he lied to you from the start, made you feel crazy for having these dreams, tried to gaslight you into believing it was all in your head all while working to put distance between you and everyone else so he can have you all to himself. How long was he going to keep up the facade for? Is this what he did every time or does he always come up with new cruel and unusual ways to break you just like he did that very first time? 

“Why?” You ask lowly and he stares at you in confusion, not understanding the question so you gather up your strength and speak louder, more clearly. You need to finally get answers. “Does it ever work?” 

“Sometimes it does. For a little while anyway, before the gods decide we've had it good for too long and tear us apart again.” He scowls, blasphemously enraged at those mythically evil gods. “At first I thought they were giving us second chances but they're just laughing at us, watching us get together before ripping us apart like a child ripping the wings off a fly.”

“Then why let them? Why keep doing it?” You ask again and Beomgyu directs his anger at you. 

"Would you have been able to have all those memories of us, not just of our first life but every single one after, all these fragments of our infinity together and just ignore it and move on, just pretend like you don't know the other half of your soul is out there waiting for you to complete them?"

You shake your head. No. You've fallen for it before you'd even regained your memories. You can't imagine how brutal it is on him. God, to imagine him scouring the earth looking for you only to lose you again and again in horrific ways… it made your soul ache for him despite everything. 

"I have to keep trying. We were so close this time. We were fucking happy. I worked so hard to make everything perfect for us but you had to ruin it. You had to let him in.” He growls at Taehyun who was unimpressed with his entire confession. 

“If my mere existence was enough to ruin your happiness then maybe it wasn't real from the start.” He challenges, not letting you go for a second. He'd learned his lesson. His hold on you hurts, turns your hand cold and blue but you dare not protest. “You've lied to her, manipulated her and blinded her until she bowed to your twisted will and even then she was still struggling against you every step of the way. If you really loved her, you would let her go. I bet she was the most happy during those lifetimes when you were under the ground in her tomb where you belong. You killed her. You deserve to mourn her for eternity. You don't deserve to get a second chance with her.” 

“It doesn’t matter what I deserve. I know she wants to be with me, which is more than I could say about you.” Beomgyu’s face twists in a sadistic grin. “Despite everything, she still can’t live without me. You know, because you've tried to make her. She never loved you and it kills you to know it.” 

That works. Taehyun lets go of your hand and lunges at him. Beomgyu is on the ground before the scream leaves your tense throat. He didn’t stand a chance. You’ve seen Taehyun fight before, and Beomgyu–immortal being that he is–still is not able to weather the flurry of punches Taehyun’s trained fists are raining down at him. 

Taehyun pummels him to the ground right in front of your eyes and you can’t bear to see it. Yes, Beomgyu has hurt you. Yes, he has been lying to you and manipulating you all this time. Yes, he's done unthinkable things for you, to you, but you still can't just stand there and watch him get hurt. You're sick of all the pain. You want it to be different this time. Maybe that's the way to break free of this curse. 

You try to tear them apart but Taehyun is like an unstoppable force that has been dying to be unleashed. You cry and pull and plead but he doesn’t stop, slowly reducing the love of your life into a bloody, gory crime scene before your very eyes and you don't know what to do to stop him. 

It’s only when you see the glint of a knife as he pulls it out of his pocket that you’re able to finally do something to stop the carnage, and you throw yourself over Beomgyu in order to protect him. 

“Please!” You cry out, inconsolable. “Please, stop hurting him.”

Please, don’t take him from me again. You hear her sob from deep inside your soul, getting louder and louder by the second as she struggles to finally break through the rusty door of memory and time. 

“He has to die.” Taehyun growls, looking crazed. “He won't stop until he’s dead.”

No. No more death. That can’t be how it ends again. 

“I can't let you hurt him.” You sob, shielding Beomgyu with your life. You don’t know if this Taehyun would kill you–You don’t know if past Taehyun would’ve killed you–but you can’t let him do this. 

“I knew you would choose me, princess.” You hear Beomgyu’s muffled voice from beneath you and look down to see a demented, bloody grin on his face before you and Taehyun are thrown off him. 

He does it so easily, leaving you to gape at him in shock. If he could’ve done this from the start then why did he let Taehyun beat him up? 

You watch in horror as the tables quickly turn and in the blink of an eye it’s Taehyun that is on the floor and Beomgyu is on top of him with his hands around his throat, choking the life out of him. No matter how hard Taehyun tries to push him off, he does not budge. 

You try too. Beomgyu was never heavy, even you are usually able to throw him around if you really wanted to, but now he is like a rock that can’t be moved. You rip at his clothes and nothing. You claw at his skin and nothing. Nothing happens except the slow snuffing of Taehyun’s breath under him. 

“No. Why are you doing this?” You wail, tears burning on your cheeks. “Just stop. Please. I can’t lose either of you again.” 

But you should’ve known better. You should’ve known that would only make Beomgyu angrier. "This is why he has to die. We were happy before he came along and we’ll be happy again once he’s gone.” 

You can see Taehyun’s face turn blue as he struggles and fails to push Beomgyu off him, the only sound coming from him are his thrashing limbs, no air able to escape from under Beomgyu’s death grip. 

The view is enough to suffocate even you and you quickly say everything you could think of that might persuade Beomgyu to spare Taehyun, even if spelt your own doom. “Don't hurt him. I'll go with you. I swear I will go with you and I won't try to fight you ever again. Just let him go. Let him go and I’ll be all yours.” 

“Your promises mean nothing to me when you’ve broken them so easily before. It doesn’t matter. You’re mine anyway.” He answers, unimpressed and you shake your head. “I will fight you every day if you hurt him. I will never forgive you. You may have me physically but my heart won’t be yours anymore. You’ve fucked up so much Beomgyu. You owe me this.” 

He grunts, his hands tightening around Taehyun’s throat for a second–the poor man’s face almost turning purple now–before he loosens his grip enough to allow a thin, raspy breath of air into Taehyun’s lungs. 

“What does it matter anyway? He'll be reborn again. Away from us.” He spits out angrily, his fingers twitching–dying to resume their vice grip on Taehyun’s throat but thankfully holding back.  

"It matters to me. If you want me to let you have me, you’ll spare him.” 

To your surprise, it is not Beomgyu but Taehyun who speaks up, his voice so uncharacteristically weak coming out of his almost crushed windpipe. “Let him kill me. Maybe then I'll be rid of you.”

The coldness in his voice freezes the air in your lungs, forming jagged icicles that tear you apart from the inside. 

“You've made a fool of me too many times before. I will not live out another life as a fool. Free me of you.”

You hold back your tears. “Taehyun…” 

“You'll never escape from him because you deserve him.” 

Beomgyu looks torn between his fury at Taehyun’s vicious attack on you, and his relief that he’s ruining whatever goodwill you’d built up behind his back, but he seems to settle on the latter, a slow unkind smile warping his lips. 

“See what he is? He was never the better option. He would never love you like I do, unconditionally and forever. Let me kill him. It will do us all good.” His voice turns fearsome on that last appeal and you struggle to remain unshaken in the face of it. Yes, you deserve this. If all the little and big pieces of your past life that have come back to you are real then you deserve to live in a world bound to the monster you nurtured and hated by the one man who tried to break you free from him. 

“Let him live.” You insist, fighting both men for Taehyun’s life now. “Let him live or I’ll make sure that all that you’ve worked for this time will have been for naught. You may as well kill me after him because you’ll never be able to have me in this lifetime again.” 

Beomgyu bares his teeth at you like a feral dog, unhappy about your demands of mercy for the sake of the man who in his eyes was the reason he lost you–and by the sounds of it is intent on doing it again.

“If you keep me alive I will hunt you both down until I kill you.” He warns and Beomgyu looks at you in a silent plea, like a child begging to pour salt on a slug, but you shake your head at him. 

Do you not care about his threat? Of course you do. Do you not believe him? Of course you do. But just like before, you've got no one to blame but yourself and Beomgyu–Beomgyu because he forces the strings of fate to weave to his will and bring you together no matter how ugly and knotted it ends up making your lives, and you for always stringing along innocent people into it, tying them up into a mess that isn’t their own. 

“Come on, Beomgyu.” You put your hand out to him. “Let’s go.” 

You see the vitriol in his eyes soften at the extended hand. You know he wants to take it. He wants nothing more than to take your hand and disappear forever with you–Taehyun is an afterthought to him, this entire life just a distraction in the grand scheme of things–and so he does. He reaches out to take your hand, but not before he grabs Taehyun’s head, smacking it against the hard ground and knocking him out. 

You gasp at the violent action, withdrawing your hand in shock but Beomgyu doesn’t let you, reaching out to clasp it tightly in his own hand, reminding you that once you give him something, you can never have it back. “Beomgyu!”

He rolls his eyes, standing up and pulling you flush against his body. “He’ll live. Might take some time to recover, or better yet he’ll be dumber for it, but he’ll live just like you wanted. Now forget about him and just focus on me.” He grabs your chin and turns your gaze away from the unconscious Taehyun and towards his own face. “You have to hold up your end of the bargain now princess or you'll pay with his life.” 

Of course. Even this small act of kindness couldn't be selfless. He only did it in order to ensure your good behavior. As long as you live, you’ll have to appease Beomgyu's demented whims or Taehyun’s life will be on the line. A deal with the devil.

Your lips tremble and you ask yourself. Is this really what you deserve after all? Were the sins of your past life so offensive to the gods that the only way to pay for them is through eternal damnation with your monster? Was there no hope of salvation for you? And would you have taken it if there was? 

“Where are you taking me?” You ask in a shaky voice as he pulls you after him and away from the flat, leaving every part of this temporary life behind. 

"Somewhere no one will ever find us.”

__________________________________

The journey to this place in the middle of nowhere lasts longer than you could’ve imagined, longer than you could stay awake, that it feels like he was really taking you somewhere at the edge of the universe where no one can reach you ever again. You doze off as the adrenaline that had kept you going until now leaves your body, and Beomgyu is more than happy to let you rest in the backseat of his car as he takes you through dark remote areas you wouldn’t have been able to keep track of even if you were awake. 

When you finally reach your destination and groggily step out of the car with his help, you almost think you’re still dreaming, because in front of you is a massive mansion you’ve never seen or heard off before. All the way around was nothing but empty woods, the imposing and impressive structure seemingly completely cut off from the rest of the world. 

You look at Beomgyu in shock, the sleep flying off your eyes at the unexpected sight. 

Beomgyu grins–or at least attempts to through the swelling of his lips, his bloody teeth barely visible underneath. Oh, your poor beautiful boy. He looks like a mess. “Do you like it, princess?” 

“H-How?” You ask cluelessly as he pulls you towards the entrance. “Being immortal has its perks. I knew I needed to make myself a small fortune to show off whenever you were ready to come back to me.” 

You’re in for a bigger shock when you finally step inside the mansion, because everyone and everything here–all the decorations, furniture, servants and household staff gathered around to greet you–are all styled in a way you only recognize from your dreams. The entire mansion looks as if Beomgyu had plucked it straight out of your first life. 

And yes, there are people there. You had been fully expecting this grand building to be running on magic or something ridiculous like that. After all, if immortality and vengeful gods are real, what makes the thought that stupid? But no, there are people here and you honestly can’t tell if they belong to this era or if Beomgyu somehow stole them from your previous life. 

“Welcome home, my lady.” A woman who you presume to be the head of the household staff bows towards you. You just stare at her, mouth agape. She didn’t look like she was wearing a costume or putting on an act. She looked exactly how you remember the staff at the old palace looked like.  

And what did she say? Home? Is this really home? It looked like it–definitely smaller than Beomgyu’s old palace despite how big and opulent it is by modern standards– but you’re scared by how your guards are already going down by the familiar sight. 

Beomgyu nudges you as the woman straightens back up and stares at you in expectation. 

“Uh, yes, thank you.” You chew on your lip and Beomgyu chuckles lightly. “You’ll have to forgive my princess. This is all a bit of a shock for her. I am sure once she goes back to her old self, she’ll be much more mannerly.” 

“Ah, yes, of course. Silly me.” The woman laughed graciously in turn, “The poor dear must be exhausted from all that travel. I know we have all been waiting for her to finally arrive but I suppose our welcome party will have to wait for the morning when she’s properly rested.”

They have been waiting? They knew you were coming. Beomgyu was always going to win, wasn't he? It was just a matter of time. He always does.

“That’s right. She can hardly stay upright from the fatigue.” He pulls you towards him, and you realize belatedly that he’s holding you up by the waist. “Pray tell me that our bath is ready.”

“Of course, my prince. And a fresh change of clothes too.” She chirps happily, proud of her immaculate service. “It’s all waiting for you upstairs.” 

“Wonderful.” Beomgyu turns towards you and smiles, “Let's head to our chambers, love, shall we?”

Your spacious bedroom has an almost equally large ensuite attached to it where some servants were still fussing about, putting extra oils and salts into your bath to make it gentler and more calming, before Beomgyu dismisses them and goes about his familiar habit of bathing both you and himself. You barely register any of it, too preoccupied by the overstated luxury of the place around you to pay much attention to him undressing you and pulling you into the large tub–the water a perfect temperature, the smell heavenly, his touch both gentle and purposeful as he attempts to cleanse you of your previous life. 

You feel both out of place and right at home, the two very different sides of you pushing and pulling as you look around the room. The way this bathroom is decorated and even the products he’s using look and feel more expensive than your entire life had been so far, and Beomgyu appears well aware of that fact and quite pleased with it too–happy that he could finally show off what he’s been dying to for so long. You always had a feeling he wanted to shower you in the finer things and you never understood or accepted it because you thought he was just another broke college student making stupid rash decisions in order to impress his love, but now you get it. 

He makes sure to explain to you the source of everything he’s using and the rare ingredients that go into it, trying to appeal to that old part of you that had apparently yearned for spoils and riches. Of course these weren’t just simple shower products that normal plebs use. These were made specifically for you, just waiting for your arrival. He points out every aspect of the bathroom and the room attached to it that seems to be catching your eye at the moment and tells you how he chose them and where he got them from–how he chose the golden and brown accents because they’re reminiscent of the sunflowers you so adore–how he had the ceiling decorated in shining stars to resemble the stars you would see when you laid in each other’s arms in the palace gardens. It was all so meticulously planned and decorated just for you. 

Is it really for you though? It may have been for a past you but are you still her? Can this extravagance be for you when you never even realized that anyone would ever care to spend so much money on a place that everyone else uses only to get rid of their waste or wash off the dirt and grime off their bodies? 

But as Beomgyu continues to flaunt it all to you, you realize that even a room as ordinary as a bathroom is another space where the rich and powerful can show off their wealth. It’s a room where they go to shed the filth of the outside world away and relish in their highly curated luxury and beauty just as Beomgyu is doing right now–diligently scrubbing that real world off you and washing it down the drain until this fantasy mansion looks like it could be where you belong. 

If just the bathroom was hard for you to wrap your head around, you can’t even begin to describe how lavish the connected bedroom is, but one thing that catches your eye amidst the exuberance of it all is the portrait in the middle of the wall facing you. It’s a portrait of you and Beomgyu, or rather prince Beomgyu and the person you were back then. He is standing behind you in all his royal garb and you’re in front of him dressed in the finest silks and jewelry money can buy, shining like his most prized possession as one of his hands rests on your shoulder and another is seen wrapped around your waist possessively.  

“Do you like it, princess?” He asks after he dries you off with the softest towel you’ve ever felt on your skin, his hands almost mirroring the portrait as his slightly bloody lips follow the curve of your neck, not caring if he leaves small crimson streaks on your skin. “Does the place suit your taste?” 

“It’s…” You utter slowly, eyes jumping around the room as Beomgyu stares at you with hopeful anticipation, waiting for the realization of all his effort, but as you say your next words, his expression falls. “It’s a lot.” 

“A lot?” He scoffs, offended. “The you I know would never say such a word.” 

You gulp. “Well maybe that person isn’t here anymore.” 

Why would you say that? Why would you purposefully upset him when he’s shown you time and time again what he’s capable of? It’s a lie of course. She has always been there deep inside, slumbering but not dead, just waiting for him to come back and awaken her. 

“Not there anymore?” He growls, pushing you onto the impossibly soft bed and climbing over you, not as gentle as he had been so far. “Bullshit. You just need a little reminding.”

He kisses you roughly, angrily, with the weight of centuries of longing that had turned sharp and tender. You can’t help but respond back. Despite your words, she claws her way out of the abyss at his beckoning. 

“Why do you always have to make me work for it?” He growls, nipping at your neck while his fingers find their way between your legs, the easy practiced way he can get you dripping no longer such a mystery to you. He has honed it over lifetimes. “Why do you love torturing me?” 

You? Torturing him? He has controlled you in this life and the first one and probably all others in between. He has manipulated and hurt you in countless ways and yet you’re the one hurting him? 

“Because you deserve it.” You breathe out mournfully, “We deserve it.” 

His swollen lips curl in distaste. “I don’t care. As long as I got you, I don't give a shit about anything else. Let me be damned for all of eternity as long as you're mine.” He kisses you again, the metallic bitter taste of blood combined with his natural sweetness so fitting for him, your corrupted angel. “Always mine.” 

He pushes his fingers inside you and your pussy takes him easily, knowing who it belongs to before even you did. 

The way he has you on your back with your legs open and your feet in the air is a scene you’re sure has recurred over and over again across your centuries with him, repeatedly laying his claim to your pliant body until you can no longer rebuke him, your body knowing what to expect now even if your mind still struggles to catch up. 

You feel Beomgyu pull on your hand to wrap it around his cock, the silent order from him not needing to be said out loud for your body to start acting, your grip on him turning firm as your hand moves in that practiced way over his cock that has his jaw hanging open and his back arching into your touch, his eyes hungrily feasting on the sight of you splayed open and ready for the taking.  But he waits, letting both your desires build up to an unbearable heat. 

“Fuck, Beomgyu… just do it already.” You hiss, sick of the wait. He knows you're his. You've always been and always will be so he should just get it over with. But of course Beomgyu can't let it be that simple. He has to force you to say it. He has to rub your face in it so you won't dare disobey or deny him again. 

“Is my princess in there?” He cocks his head to the side, his thumb flicking your swollen clit, making you bite down on your lip. You can’t bear the way he looks at you. It makes your skin burn. 

“Yes.” A few hot tears fall down the sides of your face. Why bother fighting it anymore? He has won. 

“Does she want me?” He continues, pulling his fingers out and making you whimper at the emptiness as he takes your hand off him so he can replace his fingers at your entrance with the head of his cock, hot and thick, taunting you with what he could give you if you bend to his will. “Do you want me?”

He leans down to press his forehead against yours, locking eyes with you and looking right into your core, forcing you to face him as you give in. 

You let out a pathetic cry. “Yes. I want you. I will always want you.”

“Good girl.” He pushes inside you, letting out a heavy sigh of relief, like coming home after being lost for so long. “I missed you so much. I always knew you'd come back to me.”

He did. This entire mansion is a testament to it. And so you lie there on your back and take it, getting fucked open by Beomgyu, his beat up face not taking away from his beauty. If anything, his bruised and bloody visage contrasts with the backdrop of the elaborate and extravagant ceiling above him and serves to drive home the lengths he’s willing to go–the ugliness and horror he’s willing to let come pass so he can have you, so he can steal you away and keep you as a good, pliant fucktoy for the prince who had always been greedy for more than his fair share. 

“Maybe I should thank the fool for getting you back to me.” He murmurs, making your eyes jump from the glittering chandelier above him to his sparkling eyes that cannot be dimmed even by the blackness around them, that have only been put off once by death itself before he revolted against it and came back for you. “Getting you to remember us.” 

You frown. You know what he means. You were together before Taehyun came into the picture but not fully, not the way he wanted you to be. But now he's slowly getting back the you he's always been chasing, the you he may have only reunited with a few times over centuries. You understand that. Still that doesn't mean he can disparage Taehyun, and it doesn’t mean that you want to be reminded of him. 

“Don't speak of him.” You don't want to hear it. You're here, aren't you? He won and you’re here. He should just let you forget what that has meant for you. 

He smiles, more than happy to not speak another word of Taehyun ever again, and rewards you by bending down to kiss you as he fucks his cock ruthlessly in and out of you, fully devoted to helping you forget. 

“Fuck, I really missed you.” He groans against your lips before pulling back so he can feast his eyes on you. “Now that I have you back I don't think I can give you a break until I show you just how much I missed you. Gotta make up for all our lost time.” He drills his cock faster and harder into you, the wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh ringing around the room so loudly you're worried that all other occupants of the house can also hear it. “Not gonna rest until all your holes are filled to the brim with my cum and you remember just how much I love you.” 

“Gyu…” You whine at his loud promises, fearing the rest of the household is hearing his filth. “Keep it down.”

He laughs, fucking you harder. “Why should I? Everyone here knows who you belong to. They know their master will be fucking his princess every night. Every day. They may as well get used to it now because I don’t intend on hiding any of it.”

“What?” Your cheeks flush bright, surely he is not suggesting what you think he’s suggesting. 

“This isn't our old palace, princess. I don't have to hide what is mine anymore and I expect you not to either. And if that means they can hear or even see me claiming what is mine then so be it. It’s what I always wished I could do anyway.” 

Yes, you know that very well–images of Prince Beomgyu’s attempts at inappropriate touches in public flitting through your brain. You shake your head, whining. “Not hiding, just common decency…” 

“Fuck that. Gonna show the whole universe who this pussy belongs to.” He growls, and you feel one of his hands move between your bodies to reach your pussy, his fingers easily rubbing your soaked lips and making your thighs tense up. 

“Beomgyu!” You cry at the sudden spike in pleasure, your pussy clenching around him when you get no escape from it, his hips incessantly thrusting against yours and barreling you towards what you know will be a blinding orgasm. “It’s too much.” 

He shakes his head, fingers going faster. “Not enough. Never enough. Now cum for me, princess. Make a mess on my cock.” 

As if you could have stopped it even if you wanted to. Your orgasm causes your whole body to seize up–your thighs crash around his thin waist, your pussy spasming on his twitching cock, your nails digging down into the flesh of his back as you throw your head back and cry out loudly, the irony of you asking for decency not lost on your grinning lover. 

“That’s it. Good girl. Now take it. Take all of me.” He grunts, spending himself inside you, the first of the many times he promised you he would. The first of your lifetime together. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

In the heat of it all, it takes you a second to respond, a second too long for Beomgyu’s liking, and he grabs your face and makes you lock eyes with him. “I love you.” He repeats, continuing to fuck his cum into you as he waits for your response. 

“I-I love you too.” You gasp out, your nails digging even deeper into his skin, begging him to give you a break, the overstimulation ruthlessly gripping your own flesh. “I love you. Please.” 

He finally slows down. It takes him a minute to completely stop, and you can see that he didn’t really want to but he does iit for you. “Did you miss me?” He asks, doubt and insecurity plaguing his swollen features, silently asking you to put his troubled soul at ease. He may be a cruel and calculating being sent back to punish you for your sins, but underneath it all he’s still your lovesick boy, your prince whose soul yearns for yours, and it would be the cruelest thing of all to deny him that one thing that keeps him from perishing.  

You nod, reaching out weakly to play with his hair, your muscles cut down by fatigue then completely turned to mush by pleasure. “Yes, I did. I missed you even when I didn’t know who I was missing.” 

He smiles gently at that, letting out a small breath of relief that conveys all his vulnerability before bending down to give you a sweet peck on the lips. “I’m right here. I promise to keep reminding you..” 

You don’t know if he’s promising this to himself or to you, but it leads your mind to troubling questions. 

“Are they going to let us stay together?” You frown, suddenly apprehensive at the thought of those cruel gods he’d spoken of. Now that you have him–now that you know exactly what you’ve been missing, it petrifies you to have him ripped away from you again so soon. If you must be damned to be with him, then let you be with him, damn it!

“For this lifetime, maybe.” He answers hoarsely, uncertainly. “Every time you choose me, we're doomed further. They're just letting us rack up the debt.” 

“Choose? Do I ever have a choice?” Your question is innocent, your mind too scrambled to come up with an intentional attack, yet Beomgyu still perceives it as such. 

“Of course you do. You always do. If you reject me enough times, you condemn me to a hell like no other, to being cut away from you forever.” He answers defensively, needing you to know that you’re not blameless in any of this, and you know you’re not because your heart spasms painfully at the thought of being forever severed from him the same way an artery spasms around itself to keep from bleeding out. “If I force you then it's the same. You have to choose me yourself. That's the only way we can be together.”

A sick feeling of realization hits you. You suddenly get it–why he let himself get beat up by Taehyun. He had to wait for you to choose him. If he had just killed Taehyun and took you away, it would’ve tallied up against him. He had to let you doom yourself. Even if all you’ve done to earn damnation is to hesitate when Taehyun asked you to run away. Even if you did it to save Taehyun, it didn’t matter. You choosing him will always be your sin.

He's right. These gods really are wicked and unjust.  

“Do I choose you every time?” You ask in a small, shaky voice and he frowns, your question prompting what must be disturbing memories to spring to his mind. “Not always but most of the time.”

“What happens when I don't? Do you let me?” You hold your breath, anticipating his response. Does he let you be? Does he force you? Does he hurt you? Is every time you choose him similar to this time and your first life? Could you be pardoned by pleading that you’ve been forced into it or is the sheer amount of times you chose him enough to prove your wickedness beyond a shadow of doubt?

“Why are you asking about that now? You chose me in this lifetime. The rest doesn’t matter.” He brushes you off, goosebumps prickling your skin at his diversion. In his nonanswer lies the truth. No, he doesn’t let you. He doesn’t accept defeat. He never did and never will. 

“Doesn’t that bother you, what they’re doing to us? Forcing us into this cycle over and over again?” You push tentatively. “Don't you want to be free?” 

If you stop choosing each other, will you break this infernal cycle? 

“From you? Never.” He tells you with all the certainty and conviction a man can hold, forehead pressed against yours, your breaths intermingling as if your souls are greeting each other. “Darling, if they give me the choice between heaven and you, I would choose you every time. My existence is meaningless without you, salvation is nothing to me if I can't be with you. I would go through this hell again and again just to spend these precious few moments with you. Let me suffer alone for lifetimes if it means I get even one day like this to feel your love once more.”

Your heart swells, different emotions warring inside of it–eternal love for him, happiness that he is so devoted to you that even death can’t keep you apart, anger that he won’t grant you salvation, hate for everything he’s put you through, horror that you will never escape, soul deep fatigue at the weight of it all–but you can’t even begin to untangle them from each other because he doesn’t let you. This is your reunion and he won’t let it be ruined by your doubts. 

Instead, he flips you over, pushing you onto your tummy and pulling your ass up, the sound of him jerking his drenched cock to hardness the only thing you can hear over the ringing in your ears before you feel it breaching your pussy to fill you up again. He lays himself over you, his hips immediately go to work fucking you, making use of every moment he has stolen with you. 

“Gyu…” You whine, mind too fried to care much about the way you’re drooling over the expensive sheets. “Too fast.” 

“I’m sorry, princess. Just wanna make up for all the lost time. I promise I’ll be gentler later, will take care of you so well.” He babbles, the strain of the pleasure he’s getting from your tight walls evident in his voice. “Promise. Just be good for me tonight. Okay?”

You get it–his desperation, his insatiability. This is one of the only few times in his long, lonely existence when he gets to be with you and have you fully in this way–his princess brought back from the unfathomable and untraversable void of death and lost memories for him. And you can’t find it in you to deprive him of you right now. You’ll think about it later. You’ll worry about what this means for your soul’s eternal damnation tomorrow, but for tonight, you’ll let him have you. You’ll let your rotten souls rejoice in the company of their other half. 

“Okay.” You mumble dumbly, letting him take you like a bitch as tears of overstimulation line your lashes and your fingers clutch tightly onto the sheets. You can’t even pretend that it doesn’t feel good, every thrust of his hips, every touch of his hands, every filthy word he says, every load he release inside you–it all shifts and molds you into the wretched lover he’s been searching for, the walls you’ve built up to contain her getting torn down with every position he takes you in until you lay limp with no fight left in you and it’s revealed that there is no one behind those walls. There never was. She was always you. 

When he’s finally has his fill, and you’re more dirty and ruined than you ever were before the bath, he lays down next to you and takes you in his arms–his tight embrace suffocating and hot after what he just put your body through but he doesn’t care. You don’t care. You’re with each other, and that’s how your story always ends and begins. You've been here many times before and you'll be here for many more to come. 

You are at the edge of sleep, almost falling over, when you hear a small sniffle and feel him shake ever so slightly under you. You look up to see his teary eyes and you lift your hand to his face to brush those very costly droplets away. “Why are you crying, baby?”

“I'm just so happy. I missed you so much.” He whimpers, his hold on your getting even tighter. “I love you.”

You know. You couldn’t have understood it so fully before but now that you know a fraction of what he went through to get here, you know that his love is not a mere mortal love. It has defied fate itself and it will live on for eons to come. As long as you're on this earth, he'll stay here to find you, and when you leave, he'll follow you wherever you go, be it heaven or hell or the unfathomable unknown. As long as you're together, his wretched and weary soul can find its peace. 

“I missed you too. And I love you.” 

And I'm sorry it has come to this. I'm sorry I let our once precious love grow so gruesome and hideous that this twisted ending is our only version of happiness. 

_______________________________

A/N: aaaand that's the end of this portion of the story. let me know what you think of this ending. less death than usual lol.

would you rather get tyun's ending (mostly tyun focused) or continue the story from where this chapter leaves off (mostly gyu focused)? Or would you rather a new unrelated story entirely?

Here are some teasers for the two ideas

Tyun's ending:

“Where do we go from here?” You ask defeatedly and he narrows his eyes at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re clearly angry at me. You don't trust me.” 

“Yeah, and?”

You frown too. How can he not see where the problem lies? “How are we going to stay together like this?”

“Are you thinking of leaving again?” Now he starts getting angry, vindictive, the wrath of the warlord in him cutting through the centuries. 

“No–”

“Because I won't let you. All your bullshit excuses are gone. there is no war. You can't pretend you're going back for the greater good.” His voice is mocking on the last part, and you feel your face heat up.

“It was not an excuse!" You sputter. You can't believe he's saying this to you. "It was real!” 

“You’re my wife. That's what's real and you should've stayed loyal.” He tells you unkindly, not interested in your explanations.

“So you want me to stay just out of principle even if you're just going to hate every second of being together?” It would be funny to see the way he has completely not changed even in this new life if it wasn't so painful.

“Maybe. But I certainly won't be made a fool of again and maybe it's high time you experience some consequences for your actions.”

Gyu's ending continuation:

“How could you do this? How could you be so stupid?” Beomgyu's response to you slipping out for the day seems like a wild overreaction. You know he insists on controlling every aspect of your life so you won't leave him again but going out to walk through the surrounding small village for a few hours could hardly have many consequences. Not when he apparently controls the whole village. 

“You’re overreacting.” You roll your eyes at him but that just makes him freak out more. 

“You don't know what you're risking. He could have found you! He could have taken you away from me!” 

“What are you talking about?” You push him off you. “How would he do that when you know exactly where he is at all times?”

You scoff at him but the scared look on his face makes you falter. “You've lost him, didn't you?”

He doesn't answer you, and you watch his face grow paler. “What is he going to do? You’re immortal.” 

“But I am not all powerful, and there are beings out there more wicked than me.” He tells you fearfully, reaching out to hold you once more. 

Unrelated fic idea:

“Fuck, this feels amazing.” He groans and turns to you, “Can I use him every day?” He asks you cheekily and you grin as you hump against Beomgyu harder. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Look at him, he’s soaking my hand with precum.” 

You hear Beomgyu garbled moans around Soobin’s cock and you question him. “What’s wrong, baby? Is Binnie using his big cock right this time?” 

Beomgyu whines again and you laugh at him, but Soobin doesn’t find it so funny, not with his cock getting the full brunt of all of Beomgyu’s vocalizations. “Oh god, I’m close. Can I cum on his face?” 

You grin widely. “Of course, Binnie. I’m sure Gyu wants to help out his hyung any way he can. He’s so needy he’ll let you cover his pretty in cum because he knows that will earn him a reward. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Also you can send and ask for any of the characters and I’ll answer as the character

[level2janitor]

Introduction to the OSR

what's an OSR? it's a game that's kinda like old-school D&D. or is old-school D&D. or is compatible with old-school D&D. an OSR game generally has some or all of the following principles:

low character power with highly lethal combat. in old-school D&D a 1st-level fighter has d8 hit points and a longsword does d8 damage, and you die at 0HP. this is not to ensure characters die all the time but to emphasize the next bullet point:

emphasis on creative problem solving. most situations cannot be solved by straightforward use of your abilities (such as charging into every situation with swords drawn, if a fighter), so the game tests lateral, outside-the-box thinking.

emphasis on diegetic progression. spells are found, not obtained automatically on level-up. you get XP by finding gold more than killing monsters. most of your cool abilities come from magic items. making alliances & hiring followers is encouraged.

focus on managing inventory, resources, risk, and time. the players are constantly faced with meaningful decisions; this is the heart of the game.

very sandbox-oriented. the focus on creative problem solving means the game must be accommodating to players taking a course of action the GM didn't plan for. use lots of random tables to generate emergent story. some elements of new simulationism.

high tactical transparency, i.e., the optimal course of action is rarely system-specific, and ideally very possible for a new player to intuit.

usually semi-compatible with old D&D, but not always. usually rules-lite, but not always.

what does the OSR mostly NOT do?

focus on character builds. these change the focus too much to be on the rules than the fiction, can create situations where stuff everyone should be able to do is an ability locked to one class, and impede tactical transparency.

resolve everything with a die roll. combat uses dice to be scary, unpredictable and most importantly not your default course of action. everything else should bring up dice rarely - dice are your plan B when your plan A fails. the best plans need no dice.

use linear storytelling or put players into a writer/GM role. linear storytelling gets in the way of the decision-making so core to the playstyle; letting players write details into the setting is mutually exclusive with them discovering it.

rules for everything. 400 pages of crunch is worse at simulating a believable world than the GM and players' shared understanding. OSR games rely constantly on GM ruling.

mostly still applies to all the above. making your system a "pure" OSR game comes second to doing what's best for your game.

System recommendations

old D&D or a retroclone

old-school D&D - or old school essentials or basic fantasy or swords & wizardry, which are old D&D's mechanics repackaged with quality-of-life tweaks (and the upside of not giving WOTC your money) - are usually the go-to when recommending someone's first OSR game. they're actually not my first pick, though!

PROS:

very complete, with more robust rules than a lot of the lighter games on this list.

100% compatibility: most OSR adventures are statted for old school essentials. converting them to other OSR systems is usually simple, but not 1-for-1.

easier to find games for. anyone interested in the OSR space knows what old school essentials is.

CONS:

jank. these games largely still have weird saves, level limits for non-humans, some still have descending AC, etc etc. it's not that bad but it is there

i hate thief skills. lots of essential dungeoneering actions are locked to the thief class as abilities, with abysmally low success chances. this is stuff i prefer being handled without a roll. thieves in this system suck and make everyone else worse at dungeon crawling by existing.

there's just lots of really cool shit in other systems i'm about to go into that you just don't get here

Knave 1e and its various hacks

this is a 7-page super-lightweight system that boils everything down to just the essentials.

rolling a character takes like 5 minutes. roll stats, roll gear, roll traits, go. done. it's great.

characters are defined entirely by stats and gear, no classes. wanna be a fighter, have high strength and carry a big sword and armor. wanna be a wizard, have high intelligence and fill your inventory with spells. item slots are elegant and pretty limited.

initiative is instant: roll d6. 1-3, monsters go first. 4-6, PCs go first. swingy, but god it is so smooth and shaves like the most boring 5 minutes off of every combat

monsters are so very elegant. old D&D gives monsters a "hit dice" rating to determine their HP, e.g. a 3HD monster rolls 3d8 for hit points. knave takes this number (HD) and uses it for attack rolls and saves (aside from exceptionally bad/good saves), so a knave statblock looks something like this.

spells are all one or two sentences long & extremely easy to remember.

7 pages is so light. i have the system basically memorized.

DOWNSIDES: there's no dungeon crawling rules (standard for meatier OSR games & something i consider essential) and no real bestiary, though the second point isn't a huge deal cause they're so easy to make. it also kinda assumes you already know how to run OSR games, so there's very little real advice or guidance.

KNAVE HACKS

knave 1e is in creative commons & comes with an editable word doc for you to publish with modifications, so there's a ton of variants (there was a spreadsheet of them somewhere, but i can't find it).

Grave is a favorite - i'm two years into a grave campaign and it's fantastic. it's a dark-souls-y version of knave with some really elegant innovations.

you have a set number of deaths before you for-reals die, as every character plays an undead as is dark souls tradition. makes it good for OSR beginners! being able to tell when you're close to your final death is really good - it lets you emotionally prepare for losing your character & raises the stakes more the more you die. (though honestly you should probably cut the number of extra deaths in half, it's super generous)

XP and gold are combined into one resource, souls. legendary creatures drop big souls you can make into magic items. this has ended up being the coolest thing in my current campaign. my players love finding powerful souls to make into magic items it's so fun

uses preset packages of stats/gear instead of knave's rolled ones, filling the role of more traditional character classes. has the wonderful side effect of not making you get stuck with low stats cause you rolled bad one time.

you have stamina equal to your empty item slots. you spend stamina on spells if you're a caster, or free maneuvers (on top of your attack at no action cost) if you're not. it's super elegant.

there's 3 classes of spells: wizardry for intelligence, holy magic for wisdom, and witch stuff for charisma. nice and intuitive.

there's a page of 50 magic items each a couple sentences long. this PDF is worth it just for the magic items.

DOWNSIDE: see the downsides for knave 1e. all still apply.

i enjoyed grave so much i made a variant of it with the dark souls bits removed (and some dungeon crawl rules added!) to use for my standard fantasy campaigns.

Knave 2e

sadly knave 2e is not purchasable yet (i backed it on kickstarter so i have access, though). but when it comes out i highly recommend it.

much larger and denser than knave 1e. it finally has dungeon crawling rules, it has GM and player guidance, everything is refined and the layout is so so nice and readable.

combat is a bit more interesting than 1e. you can break your weapon against an enemy to deal max damage. you get a free maneuver on high attack rolls.

there's rules for stuff like alchemy, warfare, building a base. it all kicks ass.

there are so many goddamn tables. i rifle through it anytime i need inspiration.

DOWNSIDES: some of the new rules are a little untested & wonky. introducing randomness into how often your rations spoil or your lights go out can cause issues.

Mausritter

you play tiny little mice! in a world full of big dangerous things that want to eat mice. cat = dragon. you get it. what more could you want

the mouse thing is just super intuitive. you get the dynamic between you and the big scary lethal world. fantastic OSR game to introduce kids

nice and robust ruleset; nothing feels missing

tons of super nice GM stuff! faction rules, tools for rolling up hexcrawls and dungeons, plenty of tables

super clean readable layout. font isn't too small to avoid being intimidating. guidance is really nice and clear.

combat is autohit. super fast & lethal.

100% free

look mausritter is just. good. i wanna run it so bad someday

Worlds Without Number

sort of a middle ground between OSR stuff and 5e. paid version here free version here

lots of classes, at least in the paid version. the free version comes with just the warrior, expert and mage. there's feats and more of a focus on builds than most OSR games. if you like more mechanical build variety than a typical OSR game, this is a great game for you!

extremely good multiclassing. y'know how in most games if you just mash together two classes you think are cool you'll end up with a total mess? not here! every combo is viable and works fine! easily the best multiclassing of any game i've touched

an absurd amount of GM stuff and tables. easily more than any of the other stuff i've praised for also having them. but personally i haven't dug into them as much, so i can't really comment on them

skills the way modern D&D has them. you roll dice and try to beat a target number. i don't tend to like rolled skills, but most people do, so if that's your thing WWN has them

DOWNSIDES

the layout is terrible. everything is a huge wall of text with very little use of bold text or bullet points to draw attention to the important bits. the table of contents has like 15 things in it for a 400-page book! i couldn't find any of the paid-version-exclusive classes for like a month after i bought it! looking up rules is a nightmare.

the way the default setting handles "evil races" is like an exaggerated parody of all the problematic aspects of how D&D handles it. like, it wants so bad for you to have an excuse to genocide sentient free-willed people. but at least the default setting is easy to chuck in the trash

Dungeon Crawl Classics

the goal of this system is to take all of the crazy gonzo moments people remember playing old-school D&D in their childhood and turn all of that up to 11 while cutting the stuff that doesn't add to that. i think a lot of its innovations have ended up kind of standard in newer OSR stuff (like fighters getting maneuvers with their attacks), but it still has more to offer.

the funnel: you start the game with four randomly rolled dipshit peasants that you then throw into a meatgrinder to get horribly killed. you pick one of the survivors to be your 1st-level character.

maneuvers: fighters roll an extra die with each attack that gets bigger as you level. if it's a 3 or higher, you get to do a cool thing on top of your attack. pretty standard for OSR games, but this game popularized it!

crit tables: fighters also get more crits and nastier crits as they level. every crit, you roll on the crit table. maybe you chop off a dude's arm. maybe you just knock them over. maybe you shatter their shield. it's very cool

spell tables: i don't really like roll-to-cast mechanics, generally. but DCC goes so all-in on roll-to-cast that it still looks fun as hell to watch. you cast a fireball and maybe it goes how you want. or maybe you explode, or you nuke everything in a half-mile radius, or from now on you permanently ignite flammable materials you touch, or whatever. casters just have to put up with turning into a weird mutated mess across a campaign

there's no dungeon crawl rules, no encumbrance - this game is all about the big over-the-top wacky shit, and is not really interested in the more down-to-earth number crunching. it's more in the you-die-hilariously-all-the-time area of OSR than the you-avoid-death-through-clever-play area. not really my thing but the system knows exactly what it wants to be and i respect it

iron halberd

this one is mine! as the author i'm not qualified to tell you what isn't good about my system, so just assume it's worse than i make it sound, but here's a bunch of the selling points

semi-random character creation where you flip back and forth between rolling dice and getting your own input. roll stats, pick ancestry. pick starting gear kit, roll different dice based on which kit you picked. etc etc. stats are random but all equally viable (no rolling incredibly low or high stats). every time i run this game the character creation is a hit. seriously go roll up a character it'll sell you on the whole thing

you start out a lot stronger than a standard OSR character but grow way more slowly. i don't like 4th-level characters being 4 times as strong as 1st-level ones; HP never gets that high. emphasis is more on diegetic progression instead.

way too many subsystems for alchemy, crafting, strongholds, warfare, renown, rituals, likes 9 pages of magic items, a whole subsystem for becoming a cleric mid-campaign. i couldn't help myself i love this shit

in my current campaign we had a player permanently sacrifice some max HP to become a necromancer after deliberating on whether that's a good idea for like thirty seconds, which instantly made me think my necromancy system is a success

also free

Adventure recommendations

(in rough order of size)

Moonhill Garden (by Emiel Boven): look at this. look at it! this is like the best template for a little dungeon in an OSR game. all of the little factions are tied together. this would be a great oneshot to introduce people to an OSR system with.

A gathering of blades (by Ben Milton): a system-neutral, one-page sandbox. i ran this for an iron halberd game and it went super well. lasted like 7 sessions. highly recommend.

The Waking of Willowby Hall (by Ben Milton): a single dungeon with a million things going on. it's super chaotic with half a dozen different factions crashing into each other and a big angry goose. highly recommend, especially for kids

The Black Wyrm of Brandonsford (by Chance Dudinack): small sandbox with a fun fairytale vibe and a very fleshed-out little town. and a big nasty dragon.

Evils of Illmire (by Zack Wolf): this is a very dense, entire campaign's worth of hexcrawl in a very compact package for like $5. it doesn't do anything particularly new, but the value-for-money is absurd and it's a really good template for how to do a sandbox if you're used to 5e adventures

Ask me anything!

if anything here is unclear or intrigues you, send me asks! i love helping people get into OSR games. i'll link frequently asked questions here if i get any.

[lastoneout]

It's also like super fucking infuriating to see people continue to argue that generative AI is the best way for disabled and/or poor people to make art because like, you know what helps make art more accessible? Giving poor and disabled people money.

Like take me for instance, I'm disabled. I get severe migraines and intense leg/back pain if I sit at my computer for too long, my hEDS makes holding pens and pencils hard, my ADHD makes it hard for me to start certain tasks and/or stop them before I potentially hurt myself, my neck also hurts if I look down too much, my dyslexia AND my ADHD both make it difficult to keep track of a story as I write and use correct spelling and grammar, plus, I need to prioritize taking care of myself and going to appointments and keeping my house clean and that takes up a lot of my free time. All of these things make creating the kind of art I want to create difficult if not occasionally impossible.

So what do you think would solve my problems better? Giving me money so that I can have a drawing tablet and desk chair that won't hurt my neck or back, another tablet + pen and a lap table and comfortable body pillows for drawing in bed, easier transportation to my doctors appointments, effective treatment for my chronic pain and migraines, the ability hire someone to help me keep my house clean, a spelling/grammar checker that isn't complete ass, and a therapist and psychatrist who can help me manage my ADHD better?

Or an AI program that takes my input and spits out a drawing or story made of stolen content glued together that, in the case of the art, I cannot meaningfully edit without starting over, which also destroys the environment in the process?

Seems pretty obvious to me. I don't need AI, I need help to manage the things that are actually stopping me from being able to write and draw.

Or take my mom. She's had severe rhumatoid arthritis since she was a small child, her hands are deformed and she relies on her wheelchair to get around. She doesn't need AI to help her paint, she needs special paint brushes she can actually hold, a table her wheelchair will fit at, and someone to help her with personal hygiene/keep her house clean/take her to doctors appointments so she actually has free time to paint.

Does that poor kid growing up in public housing with parents who are too poor to afford art classes or supplies or to send them to college really need a computer program to draw for them, or do they need support to help them take those classes, buy drawing supplies, and money so they can go to college.

Blind people can paint, deaf musicians exist, people with missing limbs find all sorts of ways to make art, people with parkinson's paint with typewriters, my mother can't hold a normal paintbrush and she makes some of the most beautiful watercolor paintings I've ever seen, Van Gogh had bipolar disorder and only sold like one painting when he was alive, I mean for real how many different artists have you heard of who's biographies start with them being born into poverty?

This is not meant to be inspiration porn, these people are just ones who were able to find ways to make art despite their struggles. They shouldn't have had to struggle at all, but god imagine how many more artisrs and writers we could have had if none of them had to overcome those struggles. It breaks my heart to think of all the wonderful art that never got to exist because no one helped the people who could have made it actually have the time, money, support, and safety they needed to make it. AI would not have saved them because making art isn't the problem, being disadvantaged is the problem. Living in a world that refuses to make room for you is the problem. Being fucking poor is the problem. Humans have always found ways to make art despite huge barriers, the solution isn't a computer that makes art for them, it's SUPPORT AND MONEY SO THEY CAN OVERCOME THOSE BARRIERS AND MAKE THEIR OWN ART.

As a last example: I love watching dancing and I would love to be able to dance, but I'm terrible at it(I got kicked off a dance team for not being able to learn the dance at all despite spending weeks on it, idk my brain wasn't made for dancing) and my disabled body makes it more pain than pleasure if not actively dangerous, anyway. Having a robot dressed to look like me dance next to me while I get to watch would not make me feel like I'm getting to dance. It would actually be extremely fucking demoralizing and frustrating. I would hate that!!

Having an AI spit out a painting or book would not make me feel like I got to paint or write a book. It's a fucking anamatronic doll running on stolen ideas and it will never be the same as getting to actually expirience the joy of creating art first hand. AI is not the solution. Helping people who need it is the solution. And I am CONSTANTLY pissed to think about all the time and money that goes into these fucking AI programs that would be better spent helping disabled and poor people get the help they need so they can make art themselves, all while the people running the nightmare plagiarism pollution machines pretend that their horrible inventions exist to help people like me.

[markleessodalite]

Anything For You: l.mk

Anything For You: Mark Lee drabble

Content: Mark Lee is completely devoted to you. He would do literally anything for you. Warnings: A very brief mention of gods but not actual religion if that makes sense

a/n: my drabbles don't do as well as my text imagines but i find them more fun to write >:) also i worked a longer week than usual this week and i am exhausted!!!!!!!!! so this work is actually an older piece that i wrote for someone else that i just adapted for Mark

Mark realized now that he definitely should have written down his idea as soon as he had it, because now, of course, he doesn't remember. He always thinks of little things, little inspirations and prophecies, and he’s learned that if he doesn't write them down immediately, they’ll inevitably escape his mind just as quickly. And he’s only had so many more thoughts, inspirations and prophecies since you’ve come into his life. He doesn't remember what the thought was, but he knows it was beautiful. Maybe it was a message he wanted to send to you in prose, or maybe a single line to write an entire story from, to create a narrative that could only attempt to be as captivating as you.

He doesn't know what wrongs he’s righted, which gods he’s pleased, what universal forces he’s satisfied to result in you entering his life, but he knows that he is so grateful for you. He doesn't know how he’s managed to move along before your confluence, but he knows that to live without you now would be a miserable experience; to just know that you’re near is enough to keep him sane. He didn’t realize how little he cared for anything. He just floated, drifted, traveled in a haze that clouded his eyes from the beauty that the world holds. Now everything catches his eye, every piece of art makes him feel something, every bird sings a song he wants to hear. And his newfound love for everything that has existed right before him since the beginning of time is entirely on your shoulders (of course, don’t forget, there is perhaps nothing he loves more in the world than you).

Mark feels like his life didn’t truly begin until he met you. He believes that in 50 different lives, 500 different worlds, in 5,000 different dimensions, the only thing that makes the truest sense is you and him being together 5 million times.

So he’s determined to figure things out for you two. He’s determined to get to work. He’ll save up all his money and not spend a penny on anything that’s not for you. He’ll make sure you get to live in the world how you want to. You’ll have a life together, with a nice house and a few kids, and maybe a few pets too. You’ll have friends that you see whenever you want, places to go whenever you want, and you’ll have time to do whatever you want, and do whatever you want together.

And truly, if you’re as devoted to him as he is to you, he could build an entire country of palaces for the two of you on a foundation formed purely from love. If you love him, he will do it all for you.

Mark would do anything for you.

[thegoodduckfan]

What are actually your thoughts on DuckTales 2017 reboot?

It took me a long time to answer because I had to think about it for a while.

I think DT17 is a fine kids show, but it lacks a lot of maturity depth in its themes ans story in addition to missing the point of nearly every character it adapts.

To me, show's problems begin with the main cast. In the comics you had pretty much only 3 main characters: Donald Scrooge and HDL (which in the comics are considered one character). This makes sense for the comics, it makes the cast simple, recognizable and fleshed out while giving time to side characters. Now, DT17 decided to split the triplets to make the cast wider for the TV setting, but while they did that they also added a lot of other characters, and this quickly got out of hand.

DT17 has 8 main characters: Scrooge, Donald, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Mrs. Beackly and Luanchpad. And 9 after Della comes back. This doesn't allow all the main cast to shine like Donald who was extremely neglected.

The worst part about this cast change is that they changed the focus from Scrooge and Donald. And no matter how much they try these kids aren't nearly as interesting as Donald and Scrooge in the comics. Due to this change stories deal with kids' conflicts like sleepovers or the Funzo's episodes. Makes the show feel a lot more childish.

I find stories about Scrooge going to find treasure simply to get richer or Donald trying and failing at his new job(s) much more compelling than what DT17 has to offer.

Scrooge and his adventures actually take a really big hit in this show. DT17 feels afraid of making Scrooge morally dubious. He's barely greedy or stingy in the show and there's not really any focus on his money. We don't see Scrooge being stingy moments like the crashout over the kids finding out about Della isn't very believable because I don't see why the kids would think Scrooge wouldn't spend money trying to save her.

Btw, in that whole story Scrooge did nothing wrong! Yes, he built Della a spaceship but as we see later, the rocket itself was perfectly safe and functional, Della only crashed because she flew it without preparations and during a cosmic storm! And after she did Scrooge nearly went bankrupt trying to save her. He genuinely did nothing wrong, and that's a shame! Because I want him to be in the wrong! The best part of Scrooge's crashout with his family in The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is that it was completely his fault for being a despicable asshole. After that, the writers tried to lift responsibility from their main characters even more by making it so Bradford told Della about the spear of Seline and imo it doesn't really matter because Della was an adult woman who should be able to take control over her actions (especially while having 3 kids on the way).

As I'm writing this I realize I can't put all my thoughts on this series into one message so I'll write one final point. The main theme of the shoe, the importance of family is stupid.

Not only is it cliché and honestly pretty childish it doesn't really mean anything in the show. As far as I remember the show doesn't really explain why family is important. It doesn't go far family is good and maybe that loneliness is not fun, and that's incredibly basic! Not to mention that by the end of the show the term family loses all of its meaning because Scrooge considers everyone his family, the rodents his great nephew saw once, his coworkers and so many more. It just devalues family and makes it pointless. But at the same time it also overvalues it because nobody is allowed to have any individuallity outside of the family and do their own thing, and once they do their own thing the family also claims it. Personally I find it a pretty toxic approach.

Overall, DuckTales 2017 is an okay show, but it makes incredibly nuanced characters very flat and childish and unlike what they used to be while lacking any depth to its own themes. I think it can be fun on a first viewing but once I start thinking about what I saw it all falls apart.

I might continue adding to the post later, but I'm tired rn.

[reckoning1187]

A thought I had…

What is Joker’s purpose for doing what he does? He’ll go on and on about “getting what he wants”, but what is he actually after? Fun? Chaos?

I don’t think it’s purely any of that, though he does take some pleasure in them. I think what he wants is for Batman to react. To break his moral code, to kill someone. Maybe to become someone akin to himself, even if it takes the Joker *himself* dying to achieve it. He wants to push Batman so far that he breaks.

Take some of Joker’s very first schemes and heists into consideration: he wasn’t having fun. He didn’t care if he succeeded in robbing a bank— didn’t care about the money or the fame much.

Joker is highly intelligent. He can create any device to suit his needs and can manipulate others very well. His ability to predict outcomes is incredible. Of course he’s bored! He doesn’t have something or someone to compete with. Even revealing his face and his name can’t give anyone an advantage against him. Until Batman comes along.

This man, also gadgety, intelligent and into theatrics (c’mon the whole bat-theme is a BIT dramatic), is probably the closest to his level he’s ever met. Obviously he declares Batman his rival.

Later, Joker obsesses over Batman to the point that he makes challenges that ONLY Batman can solve. To test him, see how he fares, and sees how he responds to different things. He wants to see how he works.

He doesn’t really care who Batman is under the cowl, because

1. Because it doesn’t really matter to him. And let’s be honest, he’s probably already figured out that it’s Bruce Wayne. He simply hasn’t revealed Batman’s true identity because it would take away his playmate. Batman is the kind of guy who would willingly go to prison (as long as there weren’t any rabid criminals loose at the moment).

2. He’s more interested in Batman’s mind and his ambitions.

Later in their stories, Joker almost EXCLUSIVELY targets Batman. Even if his schemes seem random or completely unrelated, his endgame is for Batman to confront him. Joker is testing Batman’s morality. Obviously Joker doesn’t care too much about casualties, but he *knows* it affects his rival. In some of Joker’s biggest schemes and crimes, he hurts or kills hundreds of innocents, or a person that is close to Batman himself.

(-SPOILER AHEAD for ‘Batman: Death in the Family’ and ‘Batman: Under the Red Hood’ and the aligning comics-) Skip to the “End of Spoiler” if you need to.

For example, Joker kidnaps Jason (Robin at the time) with an obvious goad for Batman to come after them. He beats Jason BRUTALLY— but not for fun or for his sadism, but to make Batman react. He kills Jason with the explosion, moments from when Batman could’ve saved his Robin. He WANTS Batman to be angry.

(-END OF SPOILER-)

Joker wants Batman to be pushed so far that he breaks his moral code— so that he breaks his spirit. And *Joker* wants to be the one to do it.

Through all of his testing, all of his trials, Joker truly thinks of Batman as his *one rival*, the only person who could even compete with him, let alone possibly beat him.

And even if Joker *is* killed in the process, he still wins, in his mind. HE is the one to make Batman fall. HE is the one to break him. He wins.

Anyway. Was writing something and this came to mind. I’ve been a DC fan foreverrrrrr and haven’t had anyone to rant this to that will understand wtf I’m going on about. Happy writing! (Or thinking, if I managed to break your brain. Whoops.)

[acornerofnowhere]

The Witcher 2: Assassins of Memory Storage.

In many ways The Witcher 2 is a quantum improvement over its predecessor - better graphics, better combat, better writing, better atmosphere, better art direction, better soundtrack, better characters - but it's still funny seeing the developers visually struggle with the hard limits of what PS360-era console hardware was capable of.

Lack of memory meant that all the fancy bells-and-whistles HD texture mapping could populate an area no larger and more complex than my back garden, which meant that despite the scope of the story being substantially greater than the first game, the actual physical size of the game world is massively smaller and less intricate, with working cities reduced to provincial villages and sprawling marshlands reduced to narrow loading-screen gulleys. You have to imagine this influenced the decision to introduce way more impactful branching paths with a totally different second half depending on your choice, described by many as effectively having two RPGs in one, but that seems less the intention and more that it was the only way to extract forty hours of content from the assets they were able to create.

I much prefer my RPG experiences to be one-and-dones, I don't do replays very often at all, but the straight shot to the end of this game was so brief that I feel I need the replay to get my money's worth out of it. But there's only so much I can complain when the story is so colossally better than CD Projekt Red's last go-round, like holy shit...

I was initially wary as I found the human/non-human conflict in the first game a bit contrived and this seemed to be treading similar ground at first (not to mention the Order was so obviously evil that you'd have to be psycho to take their side over the Scoia'tael), but it quickly becomes apparent that we're dealing with a distressed gaggle of bittereinders with no hope of victory being used as pawns in a larger game, as is their Blue Stripes counterparts hunting them to whom they're just one of a number of threats to their kingdom's security. Having an Evil Witcher as the antagonist deftly justifies Geralt's involvement in this situation involving kings, sorcerers and emperors that would normally be way above his paygrade.

Still, if there is one thing I feel the game jettisons from the books (and the first game was already hanging by a thread in this regard) is the sense that you're a glorified ratcatcher of no special importance, from jump you're immediately thrust into high-level political chicanery and the low-single-figure number of contracts you pick up in each hub are so perfunctory they may as well not be there. The elevation of book!Geralt from a passive POV to an active participant whose choices massively shape the world around him is even more pronounced in the second game than it already was in the first, in a way that makes the world feel smaller even though the cast of characters is vastly expanded and a lot more interesting.

Nuances in the dialogue, voice acting and motion performance completely absent from the first game are much more evident this time around, even in spite of the technical limitations that often lead to Triss's infamous dead-eyed stares. The only significant eurojank I encountered was an ongoing issue with accessing saves where the game would crash if I interacted with them for too long - the game is weird with saves in general, there's no way to have a dedicated "save file" and it doesn't delete old autosaves so I was constantly having to go in and delete old saves manually to avoid gumming up the hard drive. It's clear the developers really really want you to go back to earlier bits of the story and do them differently, and they built the system in such a way that makes sure you're always able to do that. Only issue is that I kinda do want to move onto the next game at some point, I hear vaguely down the grapevine that that's The Good One, but okay, I'll persevere here a little longer and see what I can make out of it.

[artisimpossible]

For a couple years now, I've been struggling with reading Big 5 books because I realized that the majority follow a very specific formula, and once you crack the formula, every element becomes predictable and kind of boring.

Last year, as publishers started leaning hardcore into AI (especially my publisher who has been trying to force AI on us for years), it really clicked for me that the reason they don't think AI books suck is because they've already been forcing a sort of AI-adjacent storytelling on authors. "AI writing" is just language prediction. Put a bunch of words together in the order they'll most likely appear in based on previously established datasets, and in a lot of ways, that was how I felt writing books for trad pub to buy. It felt like every time I sat down at my computer, I was just plugging pieces into slots to fill in the formula, and any time I deviated from that formula, I would be told that every deviation needed to be removed to make the story "clean".

I don't know at what point so many people who claim to love books completely lost sight of what stories are supposed to do, but last year, I told myself that if I don't want to be replaced by AI, I need to stop letting trad pub force me to write like one. And frankly, this is why I think media literacy is so important.

Every human made book--no matter how good or how bad--has something to offer because when you engage with it, *think* on it, you open yourself up to another chunk of the human experience. You're communicating with other people like or unlike you. Even books you hate inform your opinions. Even books you think are problematic help you better establish your moral compass. Every book has something to offer.

But if you can't tell the difference between a real book and ai content with a book aesthetic, you also won't notice the difference as real art and storytelling is replaced by ai generated slop that has nothing to offer because it doesn't come from *anyone*. It's just the book-length equivalent of pressing the suggested next term on your keyboard while you text your mom. The words mean nothing, there's nothing to engage with, and anything it makes you feel is based solely on your own projection, the equivalent of getting into a fight with yourself over something that could never happen.

Now, I don't think all trad pub books are bad. Like I said, every real book has something to offer. But I think the prevalent mentality overtaking trad pub of what makes a book "good" is not actually about writing quality and is entirely about how to generate the fastest, most formulaic story on the misguided premise that this will make the most money. At some point, authors, agents, and editors will have to push back against this or we're all set to be replaced because publishers have established audiences that are looking for formulaic and predictable stories, so why not let them be written by predictive text? Saves them a lot of money and completely cuts us out of the picture. I'm over it.

[yuujiheart]

Those anons plus your analysis are really good. Have you seen Jujutsu no Kaisen (this one uses AI and stolen fanarts lol), Jujutsu two Kaisen and another alternate ending (this one doesn't have a name yet)? All these fan endings are just constant gojo glaze, it's okay to do what you want but they are claiming to "correct" Geges story LOL

Absolutely none of them cares about Yuji's being inspired by Nanami, Choso, Todo, Wasuke, save Megumi....no. The third fic is basically gojo and Yuji fighting together against Sukuna (God forbids yuji vs Sukuna)

I'm happy the animation director seems to love heian Sukuna and Sukuita , as well as people rejecting those fan endings and seeing how those fanboys are actually worse and didn't understand the story. I also dislike how they try to make Sukuna a One note dumb guy and completely ignore how much he suffered too

I bet they won't even add too many Sukuna and Yuji interactions because it would humiliate their Gojo/Sukuna headcanons ones

I knew about jujutsu no kaisen although I blocked them the moment they announced their plans and forgot about them completely ... I was forced to remember them when moots put that on my timeline... Didn't want to waste time reading whose sole purpose was to glaze gojo and insult gege.... So unfortunately, yeah I did see those posts about using AI and stolen fanarts..i don't know if that's possible but looking at the "content " they have produced I don't think they are very serious about this. Coz I have read aot no requiem and it was a good read honestly although I wasn't really familiar with fandom's reaction....

It feels like they are trying to make money through it somehow using gojo and jjk popularity.. Since you know there will be no new jjk content before anime comes out......

But I haven't heard about the other two fics at all. This is my first time hearing that there are other attempts to change the ending along with jujutsu no kaisen. ... Well lucky me I guess... But my feelings are the same. I can't see this as anything but a money making tool... Plus they can never write interactions and dynamics like gege... Gege has this talent to express the exact emotion in a few words. Yuji sukuna art is the best example... Sukuna saying " Abominable righteousness, refuge of the soul" perfectly expresses what he actually felt about yuji without going on a rant/ monologue about how yuji is different or something else.

And I am pretty sure that those who are solely focussed to gojo glaze can never do something like that.. And don't worry if they don't focus enough on yuji. It would be fine coz no matter how much they try to do their gojo sukuna thing,remember its yuji who's on those giant billboards and in newspaper on Christmas Day not gojo...

Yeah, that yuji sukuna art was so good.. It's pretty obvious they are dying to animate heian sukuna ... But you know what's the best part...

He's the one who was responsible for these two scenes... He made these ordinary scenes more sexy... Now imagine him being in charge of scenes where sukuna was being handsy with yuji.. Aaaaaaaa even thinkin about it fills my stomach with butterflies.. We gonna eat so fkking good anon 😋😋😋😋 ... Honestly I was thinking of deleting this acc as I feel it has achieved its purpose but now I am not sure... Lol

Thank you anon but it's just like you said the questions were good so answers automatically became good.. Otherwise I would just keep yapping about sukuita..

[eisforeidolon]

Hellers still going on about “Watching Over Me” being about Cass. Claiming Jensen confirmed it in a meet and greet. It’s funny they never have video proof beyond, “Misha said it”.

That's kind of what they do.

One of them comes up with a totally bonkers interpretation of something, completely makes some shit up they claim totally happened (trust me bro!), or Misha queerbaits them to keep the minion attention/money flowing. The rest of them, like the gullible and obsessed desperate conspiracy theorists they are, repeat it among themselves over and over and over as "proof" their ship(s) are totes real until the heat death of the universe. The part where it's batshit insane, has zero evidentiary backing, or even has been clearly refuted? Completely irrelevant!

Here, one of them came up with a totally bonkers interpretation of the song while desperately searching Radio Company's catalogue for secret hidden clues that Jensen was pining away, miserable that the SPN finale didn't end with D/C. Misha heard about it, and because he's a spineless backstabbing weasel with all the integrity of a disintegrating toupee, quote unquote joked about it being true. I can't remember if someone made up the M&G story of him confirming it wholesale or if it was a creative reinterpretation of someone else's M&G report, insisting Jensen confirmed it when the fan actually reported him saying something to the effect of not intending/wanting to say songs had specific meanings. Regardless, believing it's actually legit requires ignoring:

The part where it's pretty absurd to think Steve and Jensen are sitting around writing songs from Dean's PoV, and batshit insane to think Steve and Jensen would be sitting around writing songs about a fictional non-canon ship Jensen has made it clear multiple times he is baffled by the popularity of and sees as no part of Dean's story. Especially when Jensen has said the majority of the writing is actually Steve's. The part where Misha couldn't even fucking name what song it supposedly was that was totes for real about Dean and Cass. The part where there are specific reports that STEVE talked about that song in a Patreon livestream to say it was about having an angel watching over you that you don't want watching over you, not some schmoopy romance. The part where, once again, Jensen supposedly validates D/C all the time ... just so long as no one is recording him.

None of that matters, and if one of them mustered up the idiocy to ask Jensen onstage at the next convention if it was a D/C song and he literally just stared at them in angry bafflement and said, "No." before immediately moving on? They'd make up a million reasons he was lying, didn't understand his own song, or how "No." was aCtUaLLy super secret code for "OMG YES."

It's the same story with their meta ~*interpreting*~ a love story out of bad stereotypes and random minutiae. It's the same story with their constant tales of Jensen telling a fan in detail how he totes lurves D/C now in ops/autos - often at the same cons where he shoots it down onstage. It's the same story with their absurd claims Misha was a third lead and saved the show. It's the same story with all their myriad conspiracies about the finale regarding the network/secret footage/secret scripts/Jared/NDAs/etc. It's the same story with their insistence Jensen hates the aired finale and barn scene because he didn't like the initial pitch. And on and on and on and on...

Being a heller means actively rejecting living in a rational, fact-based reality in favor of steeping yourself in The Undeniable Truth of Detestiel until your brain boils away to nothing.

[ya-boi-haru]

Sharing my Fable Coffee Shop AU plot lines I had cause - let's be real - it's not getting written any time soon, partially due to time and motivation, but also I like to do my homework before I write something like this, so it was tricky to determine if some of the things that happen... were even a thing that *can* happen like this...

Here's a link to some old headcannons about it: Link Here

It wasn't all finished, some parts/arcs/characters obviously missing or not done but...

I believe I called it something like: "The Longer You Brew, The Bitter It Tastes"

• Fable owned a coffee shop (Gilded Cafe), but one of those super fancy, high priced ones, with over the top looking desserts and high name fancy brand ingredients.

• Rae and Icarus grew up together and grew to live the cafe. Icarus was meant to inherit it, but they wanted to pursue their own career in hospitality.

• Since Fable frequently left on buisness and was never really around, Rae stepped in to run the Gilded.

• Ven is one of the oldest working members there and sometimes went with Fable on his buisness trips, however it seems he hasn't been doing that recently and actually, not a lot of people have been in contact/heard from Fable.

• When Ominous Bane - I don't think I worked out a good coffee shop au equivalent of OB, but it was illegal either way - got caught, Icarus made bale though no one really knows who got them out/it was left anonymous almost instantly. Momboo had to call Kai with help to bail Easton out. Centross was left in holding the longest and Rae managed to get the money to get him out.

• Kai had moved into the area recently not only to help but to start her new business, The Sea Dragon.

• Centross ended up getting a job at The Sea Dragon, though when he applied he didn't know Kai was the owner and after an ear full of criticism and cursing out, she gave him a chance

• Athena and Jamie were saving up to open their own bakery (Flour Garden) and would leave sample sweets at other Cafes (Raes', Momboos', Icarus' etc) to see how they would do and promote their future buisness

• The Aax and Ulysses story was tricky to work into the AU, but I did have the idea of Aax coming to work for Rae at The Gilded.

• Ulysses tried to adopt Aax, but something went wrong and they were separated, only to be reunited years later.

• Caspian was The Pink Tulips (Momboos lil coffee shop) no. 1 customer until he started going to The Gilded to see Rae for their coffee

• I also didn't get around to developing Wolf much in the AU, but yes, he was a Starbucks manager

• Midas owned a nightclub (The World Port) near Icarus' Cafe and you bet they were petty rivals, even though their businesses were completely different and Icarus had oddly never even met the guy.

• When they finally met and spoke, it was odd. Midas liked them and would even talk about how good they were at what they did, but thought their talents were wasted on a, "little rented out shoebox, that seemed to hit one too many dead ends on occasions" Icarus did feel like they wanted to do something more, but they wouldn't admit it to them.

• Rae really wanted to start a Cafe in his own name and do his ideas with it. His boyfriends were obviously super supportive.

• One night, for giggles, Ghaae were spit-balling names for Raes potential new business and looking them up to make sure they weren't already taken. They tried "Morningstar Castle" and ot was taken. The owner was Isla.

- After heavy, long days and nights of consideration, Rae decided, yes, he wanted to meet her.

- When they get there though, they meet Enderien. After some heated discussions, Enderien explains that

(TW: for postpartum depression, and ideas of miscarriage)

- Isla had a terrible birth experience with Rae, she was stressed, overwhelmed and dealing with all of Fables shady bullshit. When she finally gave birth, something came over her and she was convinced she had lost the child.

- Not wanting to strain Isla anymore and not knowing if she (Enderien) was actually ready to raise these two kids, she sent Rae with his brother and they were raised by Fable.

- Eventually, Rae did get to introduce himself to Isla and they slowly explained what had happened.

• Icarus learns that Midas' buisness actually started with Fable. They were young and needed just a *little bit more help* and got a loan form Fable. Midas was now indebted to Fable and he never let them forget that. And with everything seeming to get mysteriously worse at every turn for The World Port, Midas was hanging by a thread.

• Fable managed to contact Icarus, saying he needed help with a "small favour". The favours were questionable, but Icarus wanted to help their dad.

• After finding out Icarus was in contact with Fable again, they got very upset. They broke out into a fight and in a flash moment, Midas ended shoving Icarus but they tripped back and landed on their back wrong.

• Enderien was able to shed light on the mysterious Fable situation. He was actually involved with several illegal schemes (including but not limited to: Money laundering and fraud) and had been gone for so long cause he had a sense someone was close on his trail to finding out what he had done.

• That person was Ven. Ven had realised what Fable was doing and ended up going to Enderien for help. Ultimately - with some gentle nudges in the right direction - Centross was also in on what was happening and they helped take Fable down.

• In the end, Isla and Enderien would go back to their cozy life - with of course, visits from her sons.

- Rae would refurbish the Gilded into "Wonder Cafe" and it would be a hit. Raes step-grandparents actually helped him get the buisness started

- The Flour Garden would be starting their first weeks of business

- With Fable gone, Icarus inherited/got access to *a lot* of money. They used it to buy The World Port.

- Midas was free from Fables terror and the stress of being a buisness owner. They still work at TWP and loves it. Icarus feels they found their place here. (Side note: I came up with this before the final, how tf is this more accurate than any theory I came up with!?)

So yeah, that's some plot I had! Hope you like it?

[skyfallscotland]

@heartfeltletters-written asked me 💥 How do you feel about criticism? and it felt like something that needed its own post, so here goes: the hypocrisy of critics in modern fandoms, an essay.

Criticism. I don't like getting it or giving it when it comes to writing. I struggle to even gently give it to friends, even when they ask me what I think of their work. Writing is such a personal thing that we pour our heart and soul into and like you say, many criticisms aren't necessarily valid. By that I mean, there's a difference between "Amy you use em dashes a lot babe" (I do) and "This story would have been so much better if Remi were a virgin" (actual criticism I have received, lmao). 

Unlike traditional authors, we will never make money from this, we do it for the love of it and it's time we will never get back. For some of us, it's time we could be working on our own original manuscripts too. I don't think people who give the second type of criticism are writers, generally. They don't understand the craft and what goes into it. Whenever I post and someone says a chapter was short or they immediately ask when the next one is, and that's all they say, I die inside a little. I try not to take it personally, but it's hard.

Personally, I think fandom behaviour is getting worse and that flows over into our comment sections and tumblr asks. I have a whole other dissertation on this that we’ll call ‘the slow death of fandom as we know it: an essay’, but that’s perhaps for another post. I don’t know how welcomed that commentary would be. 

You said the word ‘entitled’ in your original ask and I think that’s spot on. People have become more entitled in general and downright rude (which is not restricted to online spaces, by the way). I write for ACOTAR, but you’ve never seen me discuss it here because no matter what you say in that regard, you can’t win. Someone will always attack you and I do mean attack. Even in regards to Fourth Wing, I don't talk about my opinions a lot outside of my own little bubble of friends and readers.

And that's the kicker to this whole conversation, really. If I were to criticise Iron Flame/RY everyone would jump down my throat (as has happened on other platforms), even though I'd never say it to her face. Do I stand by my opinions? Absolutely. But it would be rude to tell her them, unless asked. I’m not allowed to (validly) criticise certain elements of her story, a published novel, without being attacked for it, but those same people are fine criticising my work directly to me. Hypocrisy at its finest.

There’s a new influx of people to fandom spaces who are completely unwilling to integrate and completely unwilling to be kind. You mentioned those who criticised your work could have saved themselves the trouble and read the tags, but the thing is: they don’t want to. They can’t be bothered to take five seconds and figure out how they work, to curate their own experience, because that’s what half these people are like. They want an algorithm to do it for them, gods help us.

For me, personally, I'm my biggest critic. I also have raging generalised anxiety, so just posting on the internet is enough to send me spiralling (seriously, I feel sick just typing this out). It's very, very out of my comfort zone and I've been very, very lucky so far to have cultivated the readership I have, full of very like-minded people. Perhaps due to some of the darker content matter. But the second I get harshly worded comments, I get upset.

I don't say that to elicit sympathy, it's just a fact. I get upset about it the same way I would if you were standing in front of me saying it to my face, and for someone with depression and anxiety, that lingers. I'm getting better at laughing at them, but it's like when someone tells you they don't like you and your mum says "just ignore them"—not that easy, right? 

So yeah, I don't mind if you want to tell me I use a lot of em dashes, or that I've used a word incorrectly in context, but I don't need to hear how much you hate original character fic when you could just use your last remaining braincell the back button and continue on with your day. Just be kind, is all I'm saying.