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galaxiasgreen · 4 months ago

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🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 7.8k words]

Letting himself embrace this horrid part of his heritage terrified him. It was like being back in the cellar again, that Muggle writhing beneath him in pain, his parents and brother lauding his name. Gaunt. No matter what he did to unbind himself from the bloodline, always it came back to shackle him. Always, it answered when he didn't call.

In which, even after he broke your friendship, Ominis can't get you out of his head.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, Scriptorium quest, Muggle culture, Your Scent in the Amortentia, Going Feral when You're Hurt, Comforting You When You're Sad.

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2: When Everything Changed

You didn't speak to him for a long time.

Justifiably, Ominis knows. It's one thing to insult, degrade, demean someone, but something else entirely to diminish their very existence, to reduce them to flesh and bones and happenstance. You were Muggle-born, he was pure-blood. Your friendship together was as tenuous as life itself.

You didn't deserve risk, so he steeled his heart, his mind. He moved through the struggles of fourth year silently, like a wraith, participating only when needed. A clock was ticking for summer – he couldn't spend the entire holiday at Feldcroft, though he longed for it, though Sebastian offered. When the dread of it came, thick and drowning, it was the thought of you, what he was doing ultimately to protect you, that eased the pain. He didn't realise how deeply you had planted your vines inside him, so that everything he did now, anything he felt, or touched, or tasted, reminded him of you. You were ingrained, and no matter how hard he tried to uproot you, you would not wither.

Perhaps this was his reality now. Perhaps he would never speak to you again.

Naturally, fifth year changed everything.

The new school year rang with tension. A goblin tyrant, Ranrok, sought vengeance against wizardkind, with his influence strongest around the Scottish Highlands, scattered around the hamlets around Hogwarts. His plans were unclear, just another thing Ominis worried about, massaging his temple on the walk up to school for the first evening.

Sebastian wasn't in a talkative mood. He'd come to verbal blows with his uncle that afternoon, when Ominis was packing and keeping Anne company. Their voices were so raised they could be heard in the entire village.

"Stop getting her hopes up! For goodness sake, she's cursed. At least let her enjoy however long she has left in peace, without your meddling!"

"Meddling?" Sebastian scoffed. "She's my sister! I'll find a cure for her—"

"If St Mungo's Healers can't do it, no fifteen year-old boy will either."

"You might've given up, but I haven't."

"I've stopped trying to fill her head with false hope and nonsense!"

Anne's lethargic sigh had pulled Ominis away. "I'm so tired."

"You should rest."

"No." She fell back against the pillow. "I mean, of their arguing."

Truthfully, Ominis was tired of it too. He heard enough hatred at home, the few lonely weeks he had to spend there before absconding to Feldcroft. For the most part, his parents ignored him, though there were days they dragged him to dinners or parties with the other pure-blood families. He made sure to give the Malfoys as wide a berth as possible, even though Peregrine didn't bother him again.

"Can you promise me something, Ominis?" Anne had asked.

He'd pursed his lips. "That depends on what it is."

"You'll keep an eye on Sebastian this year." A wry laugh. "A metaphorical eye, that is."

He always intended to. The darkness was offering Sebastian solace, and he feared his best friend was diving down a path from which there was no return. How far would he be willing to go for Anne?

"I'll do my best."

"And... and talk to Gibby."

He hadn't heard your name all summer. It sent a frisson through him, equally terrifying and pleasant, and made to leave before an inevitable interrogation—

"Please," she said, stopping him. "Sometimes family isn't blood. Sometimes family is heart. And she is as much a part of yours as the rest of us are."

Yet, when he left with Sebastian an hour later, he adamantly reminded himself why he made that pact in the first place. He could not— would not talk to you, and rub raw a healing wound. Things were simply too dangerous to risk it, if not from Peregrine Malfoy, then from one of the other pure-blood families, the Lestranges, the Blacks, or the Fawleys.

When he and Sebastian arrived at the school, sun hushing the horizon, Ominis paid no mind to the knowledge that you were there, somewhere at the Hufflepuff table, enjoying the start of term without him. He took his seat next to his best friend and expected the same opening speech, Sorting Ceremony and feast.

Only there was one thing different.

Missy was what everyone called her. The nickname was sparked by rumour, as thick as honey – unlike yours, spurred by your actions, your quirks, Missy's had come before her, on the train up to Hogwarts, where all the fifth years spoke of a new student starting this year under the mentorship of Professor Fig.

Staring school so late, with the support of a prominent Hogwarts professor? That was unusual, she was unusual. A mystery.

Only when she appeared at the Sorting Ceremony, late, it was apparent she was anything but.

"There she is," Nerida crowed in the hum of chatter. "The new girl!"

"Her hair is amazing," said Violet, awed.

Ominis heard the new girl – like you, she had a distinctive set of sounds he could use to distinguish her from others. But unlike you, however, there was no naivety, no jolliness or upbeat wonder. There was only purpose, strong with each stride and levelled breath. Even as the interloper, and a late one at that, she acted like she already belonged.

His heart ached suddenly – the memory of the Undercroft tore at him, and he fought to keep it down, push away the strange sensation that came with thinking of you.

When the new girl was sorted into Slytherin, she sat next to Sebastian. "Hello." Her voice was distinctive too, well-spoken, eloquent, from wealth.

"The mystery student," Imelda said, clearly more impressed than she let on. "The whole year's been talking about you."

"Have they?" She didn't seem bothered by this at all. "Is that what I am? A mystery?"

"A real lady of mystery," said Sebastian, equally intrigued.

"Oh," said the mystery student, chuckling – Ominis caught threads of a sinister undertone. "I'm no lady. Miss is just fine."

"Well, then, Miss Mystery," Sebastian teased, "welcome to Hogwarts."

Ominis was too polite to ask what her real name was. It was too late now, anyway. The nickname stuck like mud, too fitting for a girl with an air of something otherworldly and powerful to be displaced. Your laughter bubbled in his head – maybe she would come to love the nickname as you did.

But there was no point thinking about you anymore. No point imagining what the future beheld for you.

Later that month, Ominis asked after what Missy looked like, if only to build a better picture of how different you were to one another, but Sebastian had only laughed.

"I'd tell you, but she changes her hair and eyes every day. Always in Snelling's Emporium. And her robes – she's never wearing them! Every class we go to she just puts on capes and hats and all sorts. It's a mismatch."

A very strange girl indeed, but not in the same way you were, in the same way you still are.

As the air began to chill, Ominis felt the change in his friend like frigid air on bare skin. He was warming to the new girl, more rapidly than Ominis expected – she invited him to Hogsmeade, joined his secret duelling club, stole him for night-time escapades and thirsted for knowledge only he could give. It seemed harmless enough at first, but the new girl had a particular sway, popular but not needy with the attention, mysterious but still generous with her time, and genial with her friends. Especially with Sebastian.

Worst of all, you were becoming her friend too. She was like the replacement for what you'd lost.

"Amortentia." Professor Sharp's voice carried through the Potions classroom one day, as October crept up the front lawns. "I'm sure you're all familiar with this, but for our new student's sake, could someone please refresh us on its properties?"

Unsurprisingly, Garreth spoke up. "It's the most powerful love potion in the world. It smells different to everyone according to what most attracts them."

"Very good. This is a potion we will be learning to brew in seventh year. As Mr Weasley has said, this is the most powerful love potion in the world." The last part he emphasised seriously. "It is not to be trifled with. Today, we will be brewing weaker love potions, but I am allowing you all to see for yourself the properties of Amortentia, so that you may recognise it outside the classroom. Dare I say, so you can protect yourself should anyone try to use it on you."

Sharp allowed them to gander at the potion as they brewed their own. The fifth-year girls were most excited, and as Ominis prepared his ingredients, the Hufflepuffs plus Missy headed up to the main station to have their turn.

Of course, you were amongst that group.

"Well, Missy?" you asked, as eager and animated as he remembered you to be. "What does it smell like?"

Missy took a whiff, then laughed.

"Secrets."

"Secrets don't have a scent," said Lenora haughtily.

"They do to me." She stood back, let you go ahead. "Go on then, Gibby, your turn. What does it smell like to you?"

Ominis struggled not to listen.

"Sweets." Of course it did. "Magic. You know, just the general scent of it. And..." Your voice turned tart. "Oil."

The giggling ceased. "Oil?" asked Adelaide.

"Oil," you confirmed, in a way that brooked no space for discussion.

What an absurd thing to find attractive. Did oil even have a scent? He pondered on this for a while, trying to untangle its meaning until their potions were neatly bubbling and Sebastian nudged him out of his thoughts.

"Want to go up next?"

They went after Everett declared his favourite scent to be broom handles ("Probably because that's the closest thing he'll ever get to a girl's touch," Sebastian muttered). Already the aroma was drawing him closer, a pleasant tickling like a silk robe on freshly bathed skin.

Sebastian inhaled deeply.

"Hmm."

"Well?"

"Old parchment," he said, "and hair dye."

Hair dye? "I've been told you were starting to grey."

"Funny. No idea why it smells like that."

But Ominis did. Just an inkling, anyway.

"Your turn." His friend stepped back. "You more than most anyone to know what it smells like."

Perhaps nothing, he thought in vain. It was a folly to think himself above such emotions. In fact, though his family may have tried to beat it out of him, it took strength to admit he had such a weakness at all. Since his sense of smell was more acute than most, it would've been strange, perhaps concerning, if there was no scent to the Amortentia at all.

So Ominis leant forwards and inhaled. The aroma was so heady he could get drunk on the smell alone.

"Honeysuckle," he murmured, probably because they grew around Feldcroft, and the memories were something he cherished. "Polished wood, like in a wandshop. And something... sweet." It was a sudden overwhelming note, and his voice grew hoarse. "It's very sweet. Something like—"

He iced over.

Strawberry laces.

"Something like...?" Sebastian said. "Your face has gone red."

"What?" Ominis drew back, willed the scent to disappear. "I— I don't recognise it."

Sebastian didn't say a word at first. Then came the insufferable chuckling beneath his breath.

"Ah, wait. Sweet, was it?"

"I said I don't recognise it." And when Sebastian went to speak again, Ominis quickly snapped, "Not another word."

But he knew, when his friend lapsed into contented, smug silence, this was by far the last time they'd have this conversation.

Without meaning to be, without even being there, you were a cruelty, vivid and sweet, and no matter what he did, he was powerless beneath your spell.

But with tensions rising in the world, he could not afford to think about you. He couldn't afford to think about what your scent in the Amortentia meant for his confused, muddled feelings.

By chance, he got the opportunity to think elsewhere the next day, when a letter arrived – from Gringotts, of all places. The braille glided beneath his fingertips, and he realised it was a will, his Aunt Noctua's will. It was getting to the point where she'd been missing longer than she had not, and his parents had finally bowled through solicitors and admin to snatch the last of the pittance from her vault. With no next of kin, she had given most of it to Ominis, though the money wasn't actually his until he turned seventeen.

Truthfully, the worst part was he could barely remember Noctua's voice anymore. He wondered constantly where she had gone, why she'd left him with her horrible brother and family. Once when he was eight, when a hopeful innocence still sang through him, Noctua had come to watch over him as his parents and siblings attended a society event in London. A pure-blood ball, he was told. Adults talking about adult things, how dull. As the youngest, Ominis hadn't been permitted to go, but he didn't mind so much when he got to spend time with his whacky aunt.

He was practicing his braille as Noctua tidied about the room.

"They'll be back after sundown," she was saying, "so make sure you're finished before then."

"Isn't it midday?"

"It's one."

"So I have lots of time."

"Yes," she said mirthfully, "but I want to take you to the village later today."

The village? "That's the Muggle place, and Father says I shouldn't go near them. They're all stupid anyway. Like pigs."

"Is that what he said?"

"Yes."

A creak as she sat on the bench next to him. Her hand ran down his back.

"You should know, Ominis, that not everything your father says is true. Muggles aren't anymore stupid than wizards are. They're hardly different from us at all."

The comment, harmless in retrospect, felt like an affront to everything Ominis knew. "But they don't have magic. That makes them stupid."

"It doesn't make them stupid. You don't have your sight. Does that make you stupid?"

"No," he said at once, indignant.

"So you understand. What we have and do not have doesn't matter. It is how we choose to live that does. In the end, we all return to the earth in the same way, flesh and skeleton."

That didn't make sense to him. "But how do they do anything if they don't have magic?"

"Well, you're learning your braille now, aren't you? They find ways to do things that work for them." She stood. "Tell you what, why don't we go to the village now? You can finish your work later."

Ominis agreed. He wanted to know, after all, if what Noctua said was true. She dressed him down for it, cotton and breeches and a woollen coat that drowned his arms, and they headed out before the clock struck two, Ominis clutching her hand as the wind bandied playfully with his hair. It didn't take them long to walk, though he detected so many new scents, new sounds. Wheat fields susurrating within musky spruce fences, crackling bonfires and burnings that pumped smoke into the sky. They reached a low stone wall that bordered the village river, cold against Ominis' hands, before Noctua hushed him.

"Do you remember the rules around Muggles?"

"No talking about the M-word," he said diligently, "or that we are the W-word."

So Noctua took him on a stroll through the market. He was surprised at the atmosphere, busy but not bustling. Horses clattered against cobblestone, ivy rustled against houses with rooves made of thatch. Knives slammed down on meat and fish, and there was bartering, so much bartering, for the best cuts and lowest prices.

"Come off it, Dave. Two shillings for that? You must be joking."

"Ain't no joke. Gotta' keep the lights on somehow, don't I?"

They chuckled, even though Ominis didn't understand why, until he remembered Muggles simply couldn't call upon light whenever they wanted. They had to rely on candles and hearths and gas lanterns. They had to rely on their own labour to make ends meet and provide for their children.

A thread of something fresh caught Ominis' nose then, and he turned towards the scent. Warm bread, just baked.

"Want some?" asked Noctua.

His family teachings came to him. Make no disturbance of your betters. "No thank you."

"Are you sure?"

It did smell nice, but he worried about whether Muggle bread was poison for wizards. Still, Noctua took him into the bakery, and thought terror laced through his fascination, he took the bread Noctua paid in their strange Muggle money and eagerly bit into the crust. It was warm and buttery and filled his belly to full – and best of all, it tasted like regular bread. No poison.

"Ah, born like that, was he?" said the baker.

Noctua seemed so at ease with them. "Yes, he's practicing braille at the moment."

"Oh, now, that's wonderful. Keep at it, lad. You'll do great."

"Thanks," Ominis managed. He'd never spoken to a Muggle before. He didn't know Muggles learnt braille too.

Noctua took him back outside as he finished the last of his bread. "Well? What do you think?"

The general mood was buoyant and hopeful. Not everyone was affluent, yes, but there was something wonderful in the way they worked tirelessly to get what they wanted. If the air smelt the same, the food tasted the same, the people merry and sad and angry the same...

"It's a bit like Hogsmeade," he admitted at last, because that was all he had to compare it to.

"So you see, then," said Noctua, a twinkle in her voice. "Not so different after all."

Only when they got back to the house, Ominis not entirely convinced but probing for more, he felt a shift in the air like claws on his shoulders. His parents had arrived home early, as had Marvolo and his noisy sneer.

"At the village, I see," his father barked. Then, "Ominis, to your room. Now."

Ominis knelt to the ground and pressed an ear to the crack under his door so he could hear the argument in the foyer below.

"You will do well to remember that he is my son, and I will not have you traipsing him around in Muggle slums!"

"Do you want him to be so completely unaware of the surrounding world? He'll have to live outside these walls one day."

Marvolo scoffed. "The boy is blind, Noctua."

"In sight, not in head," she retorted. "Though he will be if you all keep treating him this way."

It was nice to hear her support him, and from then on he enjoyed her company a lot more. She had so much wisdom to share, about the Muggle world, about his family, about the dark secrets that followed the Gaunts like shadow. When she went missing, he despaired in his bedroom alone, knowing all too well no one but him would care. It was only until that will arrived, balling up any last hope that she was alive, that he decided to shut the door on her disappearance once and for all – by chasing the information she'd last shared with him.

Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium.

It hadn't been an immediate decision. Once he told Sebastian of the Scriptorium, and his aunt's futile quest to find it, Sebastian hounded him for weeks, desperate to seek it himself. Ominis shut down his questions, even though, secretly, he wanted answers himself.

Missy managed to convince him – if only because she reinforced how important it was for Sebastian to find a cure for Anne, something that was possible with the secrets of the Scriptorium. And, well, to sate his own curiosity Ominis wouldn't be moved, but for Anne, whom he loved as much as Sebastian did, he agreed to make an effort. He would put aside his distaste for the Dark Arts for closure.

"Don't mistake my agreeing to go as thinking this is a good idea. I'm only going to ensure you don't get into some sort of trouble."

Missy's voice turned upwards with agreement. "You've made the right decision."

On the other hand, his was rueful. "I hope we don't regret this."

They waited until nightfall. It should've been no trouble to get there for the three of them, since the Scriptorium's entrance was next to their common room – but come the clock chimes at midnight Missy was nowhere to be found. Sebastian paced in wait as Ominis pressed a heel to the wall where the secret door lay, trying to sense any vibrations beneath. Boot steps heading towards them snagged his attention.

But there were two pairs. The first, Missy's forceful strides. The second—

You.

Instantly he recognised it. The bounce of your curls. The clatter of your glasses. The shoes, merrily clacking against stone. The scent of you, so sweet and innocuous, and yet like pure ecstasy.

You startled at the same time he did, standing upright.

"Gibby—"

"Ominis—" Hearing you speak his name after so long, in a tone that wasn't revulsion, was like music. But the shock was gone when you turned to Missy, aggravated. "I-I didn't know he was coming."

"Yes," said Missy coolly, "this information comes from his family."

"And therefore it is my quest," he reiterated. "You cannot invite whomever you want."

"I thought the more people, the better." So composed and unperturbed. "Why? Will this be a problem?"

"Yes. She cannot go."

"And why not?" you challenged indignantly.

So damn naïve. "It's dangerous."

"When has that ever stopped me?"

"There's a first time for everything."

"You can put your wounded ego away, Ominis. There's no way I'm not going exploring with you all."

He swore steam erupted from his nose, but it took Sebastian, of all people, to step in and play middle man. "We'll all go— and no, Ominis, unless you're planning to hex her, I don't think you can stop her."

"Don't tempt me." He grinded his teeth. "If you get hurt—"

"You wouldn't care," you said coldly.

And you were right. He shouldn't have cared. He'd severed your bond almost a year ago now. But there was something in him helplessly clutched in your grasp. Something that wouldn't let him let you go.

"If we're ready," said Missy, elongating her words in a poor attempt to smooth the tension, "then you can tell us the first step into the Scriptorium, Ominis."

Lighting the braziers was the easy part. Other students had done it, lit the things to light their way through the dungeons and accidentally unveiled the door. But no one had got further. A dead end, it was declared.

Instantly, he knew why.

Whispers seeped through the chamber walls. As the others explored, and Missy repaired a broken relief, Ominis wished he could clap his hands over his ears. There was something terribly wrong with this place. Something dark.

"Wait— a journal entry! Under the broken pieces!" Sebastian snatched a crusty parchment from the ground. "Ominis— it's signed from your aunt."

"What?" He couldn't believe it. Then had she... succeeded? "What does it say?"

Sebastian read. "Wow... she tried to convince your father she'd found the Scriptorium. She came down to get proof."

Noctua was here. And, perhaps worse, his father knew. His father knew and never said a word.

Tears came unwilling to his eyes, and he fought to bat them back, but it was like the susurrations heard his pain, strengthening their efforts to unsettle him.

"What's wrong, Ominis?"

Your voice was a balm, even though Ominis hated himself for it. His throat ran dry.

"I— I can hear hissing."

"Hissing?" asked Missy.

"I'm a Parselmouth," he explained, and for some reason, admitting it in front of you filled him with more shame. "I can hear and speak to snakes."

"Wow, that's incredible."

The awe in Missy's voice disconcerted him. "All descendants of Salazar Slytherin have the ability."

"So what's it saying?"

Ominis swallowed and focused on the sound. It pulled such a deep fear from him, to use this ability he hadn't in so long. The worst of it was, it was like he'd last spoken it yesterday. Like he'd never stopped at all. He'd sworn a year ago to lock away all the darkness of his family bloodline and throw away the key, and yet here he was, standing in his predecessor's lair, the translation effortless.

For Aunt Noctua, he tried to convince himself. But it was much harder to pretend the ends justified the means.

"Speak to me," he murmured.

"The relief depicts a person facing a snake," said Sebastian. "And this door... well, it's covered in snake motifs."

Ominis felt it, if only to fuel the hope that his friend was wrong. Of course he wasn't.

His heartbeat was a wild stag in his chest. "But I— I can't. I haven't spoken it in years."

"I think you know it's not the sort of language you forget."

No. It wasn't.

Everything in this place was overwhelming. His father's deliberate silence, the darkness that fettered him when he thought he was free... He didn't realise he was shaking until a hand came to steady him. You. Because of course you knew about his aunt, and how fond of her he was. You knew how much this meant to him, even if you didn't know the horrible things he'd done to get here.

He hesitated pulling his arm away – a foolish mistake. Your touch lingered like your soap.

"Take your time," you said softly.

He tried to gather some lost mettle. For my aunt, he told himself, again and again, until the whispers didn't seem so scary. It was difficult to centre himself when three people were waiting on him, but knowing that behind this door were the answers for his aunt's disappearance, and potentially the answers for Anne's illness, lit the spark of courage he needed. All that was left was to speak.

So he took a deep breath. Forced it out again.

And he spoke.

The tongue was guttering and unnatural. Rusty. Yet the door recognised its own flesh, and as the snakes undulated along the door's surface, and it opened with a cold draught of wind, Ominis knew he'd never escape his family legacy. No matter how much he wished it.

The others cast Lumos and set about exploring the space. Even so many years here and there was still some wonder in discovering the new, the unwritten. Salazar Slytherin did not make it easy to enter his Scriptorium, as the enclosed stone hallways, suffused with the cold, were riddled with puzzles, most of them involving the use of sight. Missy managed to solve the first, a memory test that required her to twist dials to match symbols on the gates.

She clicked the first one. Something sharped sliced the air besides him, and Ominis flinched.

"What the—"

"The gate came down," Sebastian said, terrified but also in awe – a worrying amount. "Between the archway."

"So there's no way back."

You huffed a breath. "So there's only forwards."

Regardless of your optimism, that was not a comforting thought, and the group stayed closer together, firing Lighting charms into the darkness. Dust swirled beneath Ominis' nose, and yet the place had a damp, mildewed feel, unpleasant and uncomfortable, but as the others continued to solve Slytherin's riddles, a rising worry eschewed his fear. This was too easy. His ancestor, he hated to admit, was one of the greatest wizards of all time, and too clever to find entertainment in shallow puzzles. There had to be something worse.

"I don't like this," he murmured into the humming din at one point, as Sebastian and Missy searched for the next symbols.

He didn't mean to talk to you, but he had.

"We'll be okay," you said, even though you moved a little closer to him, closer than he'd expected. "Salazar Slytherin is your direct ancestor?"

He swallowed. "Yes."

A pause.

"He hated Muggle-borns, too."

On anyone else's tongue, the words were a jab. On you, they were only full of pity.

I don't hate Muggle-borns. I don't hate you.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it, and the silence that followed devoured him.

"I think this is the last one," said Missy, when they entered yet another identical stone corridor, the echo of her voice a small comfort in the confined space.

Sebastian had already turned this into a game. "Race you?"

She let out a single chuckle. "You couldn't keep up."

"Try me."

You laughed along to their competitive scrabbling. When the air rippled, and stone quaked, revealing a corridor that seemed to lead nowhere, you patted your cheeks twice and marched forwards on Sebastian's heels.

But Slytherin enjoyed games too.

The gate almost sliced Ominis' nose when it descended in front of him, cutting him off from you and Sebastian. A mere breath separated you, and yet the gap felt infinite.

Behind him, Missy spluttered. "Damn it!"

That meant— he was trapped.

Powerless.

He grabbed the gate, unyielding beneath his fingers. "Sebastian, what's going on?"

"I—" Sebastian startled. "Oh no."

He heard your intake of breath then.

"What's going on?" Ominis demanded.

"Bones," you said quietly. "And a note. I-It's from your aunt..."

She died here. You read it aloud, confirming Ominis' worst fears. Grief tore through him, swelling behind his eyes.

"This is the last puzzle," Sebastian said, voice firm. "There's a door, but it's sealed. It says Crucio on the floor..."

"No!" Ominis rattled the gate. "No, you can't. This is madness, Sebastian! Please—"

"Please what?" Sebastian said, frustrated. "The Scriptorium wants a price for entry. This is what we must pay."

But you didn't know any Dark Magic.

Sebastian did.

The realisation chilled Ominis down to his heart.

"Don't you dare!" he screeched. "Don't you dare use that curse on her!"

You stammered. "Ominis—"

"We're stuck!" Sebastian barked. "Your aunt died because she came alone. She didn't have anyone to use Dark Magic on. So unless you want to die like her, we don't have a choice."

"We always have a choice!"

Even though he didn't know what that was, even though it was Slytherin's nature to demand obedience or death. None of that mattered. What did was that you were the last person who deserved such pain, when you'd already been through so much. When he'd already caused it.

He tried with all his might to break the gate, bend it, cast the Exploding charm, whatever it would take to get him in the chamber.

"It won't work," Missy said, softer than he thought capable.

"I have to try—"

"It's okay," you mumbled, cutting him off. "I-I can take it."

The tremble betrayed your fear. Sebastian offered a compromise, that he could teach you and you'd use it on him, but even if you wanted to learn the curse yourself, which you didn't, there was no way you'd ever find the intention to use it willingly, and to use it willingly on Sebastian, no less, who'd done you no wrong since you'd known him.

Ominis banged his hands against the gate. "Damn it, Gibby—"

"I said I can do it," you snapped. "I'll be fine."

"I told you it was dangerous!"

"I knew the risks."

"Did you?" he challenged. "You came down to explore!"

"I'm not naïve, Ominis!" You came closer. "Of course the Scriptorium of Salazar Slytherin wouldn't be easy to get into. Of course I knew there was a price!"

But for you, and only you, to pay it? Was it by fate, that you walked in second, or was this what Slytherin wanted all along? For Muggle-born blood to pave the way for the rest of wizardkind?

His hands shook as he clutched the gate, so tightly his veins bulged. Once, you were the most naïve person he knew, but that day in the Undercroft had changed you as much as it had changed him.

You spun away, back to Sebastian. A deep breath.

"Okay. I'm ready."

"Are you sure?"

Presumably you nodded, because you didn't say the words.

And Ominis was helpless to listen as Sebastian raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

Your pain seemed to last for hours. For a second, a wink in time, you were silent, only that fizzing noise, that horrid, burning stench of the curse any indication anything was happening at all. But then you cried out, you wept, you mewled, howled – then it was pure agony, screams that arced through Ominis in ways he would never forget.

Something shifted. It was a softer noise than your screams, like mud, or honey almost, sinking into the ground. As the blockage melted, Sebastian ceased the spell, but your pain did not end, and when the gate shot back up, Ominis stumbled over himself to get to you.

"Gibby," he fell to your side, cradled you, ran hands over your shoulders and face, breathless. "You— I— are you—"

Your ragged breaths calmed. Your quivering eased. Tears ran down his own, probably splattering onto you, but you said nothing, only remained still in his grasp as he held you, comforted you.

Something warm drew up his temple then, and it took a second to recognise it. Your hand. Your thumb, combing back an errant lock of hair, skimming the mole on his temple.

"So you do care," you croaked.

He didn't know how to respond.

"I-I'm sorry," he said instead, failure washing through him. "I... I should've—"

"Don't," you whispered. "Not here. Not yet."

So he didn't. Instead, he wordlessly helped you to stand. Sebastian and Missy asked after you, and their awkwardness brought a new flush to Ominis' cheeks, but when you gave a shaky thumbs-up and an audible smile that warmed even this terrible place, the four of you headed into Slytherin's Scriptorium impeded no longer.

Sebastian and Missy got to work searching each nook and cranny of the cavernous chamber of stone walls, busy with the scattered remnants of Slytherin's work: parchment, scrolls, ancient tomes on shelves that seemed to hum with magic too ancient to describe. Ominis held onto you for the entire time, emotionally spent. You clutched his arm in return, and he felt the tremble of your grip, the vestiges of the curse. He should've helped to search the place, really, but he didn't trust that Slytherin, the most famous pure-blood supremacist in the history of Hogwarts, wouldn't have any last surprises for you.

Missy eventually found Slytherin's spellbook, and the exit, which chucked the four of you back out into the dungeons. You huddled behind the columns until you were sure there were no teachers or prefects, and only then did Ominis allow himself a moment to press his head to the stone, process everything he'd heard, felt.

His aunt was dead, bones lying cold in that corridor.

Sebastian had used Dark Magic like it was second nature.

You had been hurt. And you were owed an explanation.

But so close to the common room entrance was risking too much. If not Peregrine Malfoy, then another pure-blood, a painting, a ghost, a teacher bribed. Someone else, trading with secrets that could ultimately slither its way back to his family.

"Ominis," Sebastian sounded genuinely contrite, "about your aunt—"

"Oh please, Sebastian," he snapped, the anger sudden but healthy. He swung on his friend, teeth bared. "We were lucky we escaped at all."

"But I'm grateful that we did, because maybe now Anne—"

"And if you'd have died in there? How could you have saved Anne then?"

You startled. "Wait, let's—"

"Swear to me." He didn't bend under the weight of your gaze. "Swear to me, right now, that we will never engage with Dark Magic ever again. That— that we will never cause that pain again."

Sebastian was speechless. "But—"

"Swear it, Sebastian!"

"All right, all right." He took a breath. "Understood. And I... I really am sorry about your aunt."

Admittedly that closure was nice, to know Noctua was gone. He didn't voice anything, his feelings too raw and churning, and Sebastian headed towards the common room, Missy in tow.

"We'll go. You two... have a lot to talk about."

When the common room door slid shut, and it was only the two of you, alone, a new sort of worry seeded in his stomach. You said nothing for a while, the last moments that had passed between you as palpable as stone.

"I— I'm sorry," he forced out, this apology much harder than the last. "The Cruciatus Curse—"

"I'm okay," you repeated. A shuffle of your boot. "Are... are you going to talk to me again now? Are you going to tell me why you turned on me?"

But he found the words impossible and unmoving. He needed time, space, to heal from today, before he was ready to open another old wound.

"I-I can't. Not yet."

You paused. It was long and hard to bear, like a rake drawing down his chest.

"All right," you said quietly. "When you're ready, find me. You know where."

He did know where. Back in the early months of first year, when you were green and hungry, there were times when you weren't tagging in Ominis and Sebastian's shadows, times when they didn't know where you were at all. Once he decided, on whim, to search. The castle was huge and he wasn't optimistic, but he checked your favourite places: the Hufflepuff common room, the library, the front lawns and the sitting area outside Charms. When you weren't there and no one had seen you, he concluded he was just missing you, and hurried towards the Great Hall before his absence at dinner was noticed.

That's when he heard you, far above.

The hallways of the Viaduct Entrance were quiet – everyone was at the feast – and even still, your voice was barely a whisper. He halted, pausing to make sure, and there again was your sound, high-pitched and squealy and very you. Brow furrowing, he followed the noise up the stairs until he found himself squirrelled between the wooden joists holding the ceiling.

Whilst Ominis and Sebastian had claimed the Undercroft as their own, this was your space. He didn't know when you'd discovered it, or how, but here you were, curled beneath the beams.

Crying.

It surprised him. You, crying? When you were always so upbeat? When everything seemed to make you laugh? He approached you like you were a unicorn, easily spooked by noise. Still, you noticed him anyway.

"Oh! Ominis! I— I didn't see you there."

"That makes two of us."

But you didn't laugh, which meant something was very wrong.

He swallowed his pride. He'd never dealt with someone crying before, least of all a crying girl. "What's the matter?"

"You're going to think I'm silly."

"I already think that."

Another heaving breath. Another jab that didn't land. "Then— I don't know. You might laugh."

"Why would I—?" He stopped himself. That wasn't what you needed to hear. Instead, he sat next to you. "I won't laugh. Promise."

"Okay." You shuffled a little closer. "I-I miss home."

Ah. You were homesick. Frankly the concept was foreign to him – he'd never once missed his family. Even then he rejoiced every second he got to spend away from home. Still, it seemed to be eating you up.

"I-I'm not ungrateful," you said quickly. "I'm really happy to be here. And I really like magic. It totally makes sense – one time I exploded my brother's washing basket and we never knew how—"

"Exploded—?" He sighed. Just you things. "Never mind."

"But I miss them. My mama and papa run the confectionary. My brothers are supposed to take over when they're older, but Connor met Matilda Asher at church and everyone reckons they'll marry soon and he'll go into lumbering, and Ellian doesn't like sweets a lot, and he's much better at business and numbers anyway, and who knows how little Tam will grow up— oh no, I'm going to miss him growing up!"

Now you were weeping and hiccoughing. "Slow down. You're getting tears on my robes."

"Sorry. Is that... am I a wally?"

He didn't have the heart to ask what a wally was.

"Everyone gets homesick sometimes."

"You don't."

So you noticed. "I grew up in the magical world. You didn't. If I was suddenly dropped into the Muggle world, I'd be sad too. It's overwhelming to suddenly be in a different place with different people, let alone find out you're actually a witch, but you'll get used to it."

"What if I don't?"

"You will." It wasn't a guess. It was fact. "And your friends will help. Sebastian and Anne, and Adelaide and Evangeline and Arthur too."

"And you?"

"Yes," he said, managing a smile for your sake, "and me."

You took a deep breath, a sign that meant you would be okay.

"Do... do you have a tissue?"

"No."

"A... face-cleaning spell? Dryus Tearus?"

"You can't put -us at the end of words and expect it to be a spell. Just stop crying." It came out as a demand, even though Ominis didn't mean it to. He lifted the hem of his robes and wiped away the tears. "You'll get to go home at Christmas, which is only two months away."

By which point, he knew, you wouldn't feel so homesick anyway.

You squirmed when he drew the robe across your nose again. It was snotty, which made him grunt in disgust, which then made you giggle, and then use the sleeve of your own shirt to wipe the rest away.

"Thank you." You sniffled again. "I must look terrible."

"Awful."

A sharp pause – then another laugh, this one more like your usual self. "You are funny, Ominis Gaunt."

Funny was, perhaps, the last word he would ever ascribe to himself. It was, however, the perfect word to assign to his feelings a few days after the Scriptorium debacle, when he was finally ready to share the truth.

He didn't find you under the joists in the Viaduct Entrance's ceiling. Instead, where you were sitting that first time he caught you in first year, and where you sat in the subsequent times since, he found a note. Cleverly it was in braille, and he suspected there was no written words. He drew his thumb across the print.

Below astronomy deck, 8pm.

You had been waiting there, every day like clockwork. Waiting for him.

Ominis climbed the winding stairs. He didn't come up here often – without his sight, he couldn't read the stars, though he did still partake in stargazing theory and discussion. The floorboards croaked. So high up, the wind teased the tips of his ears, and he fussed with warming them until the deck was before him.

He thought he was alone, that he'd missed the chance today.

But you were here, coming up to him steadily. "Are you ready to talk?"

He nodded, voice scarpering deep into his throat. You waited. You weren't going to prompt him or give him any tools to help. You were as hungry for answers as you were before, but you would not make it easy. He would have to work for your trust.

He didn't know how to start.

"I— my family—" How did he tell you about the pain he went through, without diminishing yours? How could he articulate the horrors he'd experienced home, that he'd subsequently thrown back at you? "Some... things happened, when I was at home that summer after third year."

You waited still, not saying a word.

The beginning, then.

"You know my family hates Muggles. Hates Muggle-borns. It's an old pure-blood notion that Muggle-born magic is weaker, that it's stolen. I realised it was wrong when I met you, and regardless of my family's opinions I thought it was okay to be your friend."

"Opinions," you retorted. "You mean prejudice?"

"Yes," he agreed hoarsely, realising his error too late. "Yes, prejudice."

Silence again, as you waited for him to continue. He didn't know you could be so blunt.

"Peregrine Malfoy found out in third year we were friends. He— he told his father. Who told mine." Now his heart raced, his pulse thrashed, a cold clamminess prickled up and down his skin in disgust, shame, fear. "M-My parents, my brother Marvolo, they... they were displeased—"

Your hand found his arm then to steady him then.

"You don't have to continue."

"You deserve to know—"

"It's okay. I... I already know."

"You— what?"

"I've known since the Scriptorium."

"How?" he demanded, then seethed. "Damn Sebastian—"

"Not Sebastian," you mumbled.

Anne.

"It wasn't her place to tell either."

"No," you agreed, "but I wrote her a letter and she told me anyway, since you were being a dummy."

"But you know why, then," he reiterated, clutching your shoulders, hoping, begging to make you see. "You know why—"

"I know I lost my best friend," you said, angry tears snuffing your voice. "I know you suffered. I know your family are the vilest, most evil people on earth. I know that nosy Malfoy should mind his own business. Sebastian said he talked to him. He won't say a word about you now."

What the hell did Sebastian do? "It's too risky."

"I'd rather live in risk with you then not have you at all."

"You don't understand. My family will stop at nothing to protect the sanctity of the bloodline. If they are capable of hurting me, they will hurt you. Maybe— maybe worse. They might've tried something already if you weren't protected here, at Hogwarts."

"I'm not afraid of them."

"You should be. They can do so much worse than... than the slur I called you, Gibby."

"Mudblood. I know."

"Don't say—"

"Why? That word means nothing to me – it only meant something when it was coming from you."

He didn't know how to respond, speechless.

"Your family can continue to live their lives in hatred, but I won't ruin mine for their sake. If I have to keep my friendship with you a secret to keep you safe, fine." Your voice was fierce, incredible, beautiful. "But I am not losing you, Ominis Gaunt. Not again."

You knocked the breath from him then. Those were words he would never forget; you planted yourself deeper into his heart, where your flowers bloomed even in the shadows of his past.

You were his family, too.

It had taken him a long time to realise you always had been.

[MASTERLIST][PREV][NEXT] [Divider credits]

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #acvas #acvasverse #gibby #my writing #my stuff

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emositecc · 6 months ago

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God I fucking hate Victoria the crybaby so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every page she's in, every scene, every fanart, every comic, she's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass personality on her stupid green face. Absolutely no part of her ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. Her stupid fucking dress? Who the hell wears a dress like that. Her dumb fucking lizard tail? Her shitty, annoying bastard attitude ? The three thousand percent dumbass shitass fucking haircut that no woman has EVER FUCKING SHITTY HAIR DESING HAD IN THE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate her. I hate her so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a comic or a fanart of her, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Boo hoo, I'm Bitchtoria the fuckshit whiny ass woman, woe is me. PITY ME 😢😢😢😢". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like shrek but if shrek was written by vivziepop. Your dumb fucking hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking dress and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top shitty ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene she's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a walmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know she's just a shitty fucking sad woman in a stupid fucking fan comic, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate her. I hate hier on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the bitch wife is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate her so much. I hate her so, so fucking much. I want to light her ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat her to death with her own stupid fucking punchable face. I want to punch her to death. I want to bash her brains out. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that her existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional woman

you've gone on sending me these kinds of messages in my ask box everytime i've updated my comic, even mentioning r*pe in your latest ones. At first I thought this is a bit, but now i honestly dont know. I think you need help and for your own good and mine, I'm going to be blocking you.

This probably wont stop you from reading my comic in other platforms but if you still do, please refrain from messaging me or whatnot because I will just block you again.

okay, thank you.

^ and that's not even ALL of it.

there's like 50+ more

get help.

#no kidding this person has sent me probably over a hundred asks by now in my inbox since ive started the comic #I try to ignore but it seems that theyre just getting worse in every update #if you hate a character this much ?? i dont know what to tell you #victoria isnt even canon #shes fanmade and yet you hate her THIS MUCH #man #idk #goodluck ig #victoria

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hauntingofhouses · 11 months ago

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hilarious to me how taigen's main insult to mizu is calling her "a dog." literally he's the only one in the show to call her that! everyone else just talks about the blue of her eyes looking like an onryo or demon or monster.

taigen calls her a dog. "round-eyed", an "orphan," with a "whore mother" and "white devil" for a father. talking about she was living on the street eating off gutter scraps. like that's the thing that he pinpoints about her. not about her being a half-breed, but about her living conditions. and i talked about this quite extensively before, about how i feel that everything taigen says about mizu is a projection of his own self-hatred. because everything he says about mizu can also apply to himself.

and necessary disclaimer here before someone misinterprets me on purpose: no this doesn't justify his actions, and yes taigen was an asshole, yes he's not a good guy, etc. i just like the nuances of his character because that's what makes him so interesting to me as a character to pick apart and analyse.

and so WITH THAT BEING SAID, the reason why i find it hilarious that taigen calls mizu a "dog" is because HE IS THE DOG! because literally if you have to assign an animal to each of the characters, taigen would be a dog. growling and barking one second, happy and puppy-eyed the next. taigen as a child loves playing with sticks. he loves getting praises by everyone around him. taigen who is "stupidly loyal." HE IS THE DOG!!

and mizu? would be a cat!!! mizu who stalks and pounces on her prey. mizu who struggles away when people try to grab her or come close. she hides from everyone when she's hurt and licks her wounds while pretending she's fine. she topples vases off of high shelves (read: burns down entire cities and rampages through insanely guarded fortresses) causing chaos all while leaping around gracefully. but then she's still too short-sighted so she gets stuck somewhere with no way to get out of it until her owner has to come pick her up and put her back on the floor again (the owner in this case is ringo).

they are literally both the TYPICAL ARCHETYPES of what a "cat person" and "dog person" would be like and that is SO funny to me.

they even get along as well as cats and dogs do. they fight each time they're around each other. taigen's mere presence makes mizu hiss and her hair stand on end while taigen just keeps barking at her and provoking her even more. he incessantly follows her around while she wants nothing more than to be alone. taigen who won't stop yapping even while everyone else is dead-silent vs mizu who only approaches people to talk when they're nonchalant or even actively avoid her (see: how she's always the first to instigate interactions with mikio during their marriage).

like it's just so funny to me. they're both so stupid and i love them.

TL;DR taigen is a dog and mizu is a cat. ringo is the exasperated but loving caretaker at the shelter in charge of dealing with their antics and keeping them fed and making sure they don't kill each other.

#blue eye samurai #taigen blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x taigen #taimizu #kind of?#this is a very silly post because they're my sillies #shut up haydar #fandom.rtf

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pikahlua · 5 months ago

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Fourteen Days of MHA: Day 1

Home

WARNING: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood spoilers (seasons 1 and 2)

You: Huh!?!?!?!?

Oh yeah, it's time for a little mini-meta.

Okay, well, we're not going to get into the ENDING yet, but there's actually a lot going on in MHA that looks eerily familiar if you're an FMA fan. MHA itself is in many ways a referential work, and I don't think all of these parallels are coincidences (though surely some are).

Let's talk about the symbolism of the home.

My Hero Academia has three major examples of "home" that it highlights as symbols: those of the villains Tomura Shigaraki, Himiko Toga, and Touya Todoroki. The villains view their homes as symbols of oppression and pain. We know the home is seen as the image of all that oppression based on how various characters treat the houses themselves.

When Touya returned home after his miraculous survival, he found the home hadn't changed as a result of his death. The "scene" there always looks the same.

And when Endeavor tries to atone, Endeavor acknowledges that the "house" he raised his children in is full of bad memories to the extent that he decides to build his family a new home where they can live without him.

Touya's opportunity to demonstrate his feelings about his home arises with Himiko Toga. She returns to her abandoned childhood home out of curiosity and finds it full of hatred and derision, symbolizing her experiences there.

Touya does her a "kindness" by destroying the house.

Then he reveals that doing so, to him, is a way to get back at Endeavor--at the man who created Touya's own broken childhood home.

This scene in particular evokes the famous imagery of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood of the Elric Brothers burning down their own childhood home.

The act of destroying their own home is so important to them that Edward chooses to commemorate the date by engraving it inside his pocketwatch, "Don't Forget 3.Oct.11." To the brothers, this act is a symbol of their resolve--of their chosen path to atone for their sins and restore their bodies. There can be no going back home if there is no home to return to.

In other words, the purposeful destruction of one's home represents a threshold, a point of no return. By destroying their homes, the villains of MHA demonstrate their conviction for the paths they've chosen.

The problem is, there's another reason one might destroy their own home.

To run away. To hide. To forget.

Why does Himiko call Touya's act of destruction a kindness, even if Touya denies it? Because he has destroyed the largest reminder of the pain of her childhood.

The League of Villains seek to destroy the world because they were rejected by the world and wish to reject it back. Those homes were the world to them at one point, when they were children. To them, the world is just an extension of the suffering they experienced.

Tomura wants to destroy the world to justify his existence as a destroyer, but in reality he doesn't want to face the fact that he killed his family by accident.

The tragedy of his childhood was so traumatic he repressed the memory and only found his concrete motivation to destroy the world once he remembered his past in Deika City. As soon as he remembers that house, he wishes to destroy it again. It's already been destroyed, but the memory of it continues to hurt him long after. By destroying the world, maybe he can forget it again. Maybe the pain will make sense and he won't have to think about it anymore. Maybe he'll stop being a crying child deep down.

The villains seek to destroy their own origins, which is by nature a self-destructive cause. Paradoxically, they will end up destroyed in the end no matter if they succeed or fail in their goals. Either the world will be destroyed and they along with it, or they will die trying.

To save Tenko's heart, Izuku has to bring that memory of the house to the surface. He has to recontextualize it to validate Tenko as he is.

And the recontexualization is All For One.

By contextualizing Tenko's life as a product of All For One's machinations, it gives Tomura a new reason to destroy that memory and that house: to destroy All For One.

And with that comes a new justification for Tomura's existence.

The destruction of All For One.

#14DaysofMHA #Day 1 #meta #my hero academia manga spoilers #final arc spoilers #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki #himiko toga #touya todoroki #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood making a cameo appearance #comparative meta #just some thoughts on houses

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peachedtv · 2 years ago

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Re-Fucking-Venge

﹂ Yandere!Dabi x Nurse!Reader ‘Come dance with me in hell, won’t you, Father?’ And boy did Dabi fucking mean it. Poor little you to have been his next ledge to mindfuck his father to shards.

﹂Genre: angst, toxic relationship, slow burn, 18+

﹂ Warnings: AFAB, female pronouns, Kidnapping, non-sexual hair pulling, paralysis, angst, drugging, profanity, descriptions of panic attacks, violence, slight horror, insults, broken family dynamic (both Dabi [duh] and reader's),

﹂ WC: 6.67k

﹂ From Redact: this will be continued! My motivation sucks so I'll try to promise a regular schedule.. I first posted this story at 2k words, then kept editing back to get it up to 6.67k, so I'm reposting it to let the people see the final copy incase yk. If you wanna be on a taglist tell me !!! I'd love to have one

Honestly, everything's turned into a fucking mess.

After the absolute devastation of Dabi’s theatrical exposing of Endeavour, your workplace was swarmed by furious citizens and questioning paparazzi. They were angry. So fucking angry. Angry for the fact that Endeavour had such cruel impositions on his children, angry that his actions caused the root of such a murderous villain, and angry at the fall of heroes being ironically unheroic. Day or night, their anger wouldn’t stop. The continuous flashing lights of cameras, the synchronized yelling, and the fists that shook in the air. With the mantra of harassment towards your hospital, one would think you’re caring for number one himself—the one Dabi framed as the center point for his villainous roots, the one who did most of the hurting. But, no. You weren’t caring for Endeavour. You were the main nurse for his wife, Rei. And that's what truly ticked your soul.

It absolutely baffled you. Why were such a mantra of citizens harassing a regular person? Can’t they properly think that if Dabi’s speech pointed at Endeavour, it’s mainly Endeavour’s doing? Article after article, you started to understand that many hard-luck Endeavour fans were convinced that the abuse Dabi had forsaken was all Rei’s fault.

‘She’s manipulative.’

‘What a fucking gold digger.’

‘No wonder Endeavour had to take out his anger on his children.’

Yet who was the one in psychiatric care? Are these people truly blind to the obvious victim here? It made your blood boil.

You kept Rei under your loving care for years. As someone who had their own fucked up family situation, you felt for her since her admission oh so many years ago. You knew who she truly was, and so, it made you enraged that these strangers yelled at her as though they’d known her all their ignorant lives. As if they had the entire situation figured out when even Endeavour had his own twisted narration of what happened. People believe what they want to believe, and you began to understand that. People protect what and who they wish to protect. It did not matter how morphed and wicked the twists on their perceptions may be—as long as they can justify themselves. As long as they can justify the wrong.

And so, here, Rei was not the object of the crowd’s protection. She was the embodiment of their malformed justifications. The receiver of their hatred, the one to hear the garbage and clunk of cans thrown against her window.

It’s during a time like this that you’re truly brought back. Brought back to the Rei who first arrived. The Rei who was constantly in a fight or flight response. For the first few weeks of her stay, she wore a horrid expression of absolute dread. Her eyes truly had no spark, and her body felt empty of any soul. She always looked down, her chin tucked near her chest as she zoned out into a singular corner of her room. Many of the doctors and nurses complained to the head, saying she was too much for our hospital to handle. Whenever someone merely grazed her arm while cleaning her room, she would scream out in horror—thrashing about as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Thus, when nurse after nurse had quit being her caretaker, finally you came up to the chopping block, and you had heard a lot about her. Of course, none of which was positive.

‘She’s fucking insane.’

‘That woman makes me want to quit.’

‘Thank god I got switched out.’

‘Goodluck, Y/N, you’ll need it.’

When you first saw her, the barrier you had about yourself slipped. No, you didn’t see a manic woman, nor did you see some form of a psycho. What you saw, mesmerized you. You were entranced. She was truly beautiful. Her white hair gently framed her face, while the sunlight in her room had a cold, blue hue, that you didn’t feel was present anywhere else in the hospital. She had the aura of an apathetic beauty, a flower that was plucked - for even wilting roses had their charm. Her eyes, though, those wonderful eyes. You could tell her deep irises once held the spark of happiness, the spark of hope and care. Yet now, her eyelids hung low, dark circles beneath her lids dragging her visage lower, and her posture as an enervated slouch. It was in that moment when you first laid eyes on her did you truly see who was deep inside the shell of her abused being. She brought you back, brought you back to who you easily could have become—shown you who you would’ve been had you not fought tooth and nail against your resolves. And so, determination flared inside of you. You will help her. You will bring back her spark. No one should fight so alone against something a crowd can’t handle. Thus, even if you’re the only one by her side, you will still be there.

It had taken a couple of months for you to barely disarm her violently defensive walls, but you managed. You always knocked on her door before entering, peering through before stepping into the room. You set up a small stool by her bedside, and every time you came to her you would sit down before getting to your medicinal caretaking. You’d smile, greet her warmly, and tell her silly stories about your day. Tales of the warm old man across the hall, of those pesky UA kids that couldn’t help but fight a little too hard for others. You would go into detail after detail, eyes dancing across the empty walls as you lightly laughed at the memories or clicked your tongue at some of the peskier ones. Although she never responded, you made sure to speak to her every single time.

Furthermore, you were careful, you truly wanted the best for your patients, and she is no different. You were careful when you delicately held the flowers’ stems as you poured in fresh water. You were careful when you gently told her everything you would care for before doing it. ‘I’ll be checking your heart rate, is that okay?’ You’d smile, not even grazing her arm before a sign of confirmation. And it was these careful things you did for Rei that truly made her love you too. Soon, she began to speak. Her voice was delicate and raspy, as she hadn’t used her vocals in such a long time. But still, you smiled at her. Tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you listened to her very first request for a glass of water. Progress is progress. And you were determined to continue it.

From her vaguely written patient file, you had an idea that her husband was the main factor in her descent into your care. But, you were horrified once Rei trusted you enough to spill her heart's deepest sorrows—all caused by her husband. She cried, and oh how her tears fell so quietly it shattered a piece of you that you didn’t know was there. After she began giving you one-worded answers, to replying in whole sentences, her walls soon came down and a woman desperate for help and comfort revealed herself. It broke your heart remembering the number of overtime shifts you’ve spent merely hugging her while she gripped your scrubs. Her arms desperately clinging to you for any minuscule support, her body trembling in the fear that you’ll give up and leave her just as the other nurses did. Those silent tears fell, her muffled cries making you wish you could take away her pain if only for a minute. Every night, that was the scene between you two. And every night, flashbacks of her husband’s cruel words yelled at her from the silence only she could hear. Not only as a nurse, but as a human being, you truly cared. And Rei could feel that sincerity, thus, you two grew close.

Even after Rei exponentially improved, you still tried your best to give her some kind of comfort she could cling to in the emptiness of the hospital’s blank walls. You were so proud of her. She came so, so far in her healing process. And your soul smiled at the thought of her gentle nod whenever you entered her room—she had the misfortune of a hundred lives, and didn’t deserve a single crumb more of difficulties.

So why did fate have the tv running that day?

You ran to her room, the blaring of her EKG racing your mind with worry. It had been long, too long, since her heart raced so. You had gotten used to her health, to her improved state, so how the hell did this happen? When you burst through the door, Rei was slumped on the ground with her hand clawing into her chest as she hyperventilated, her eyes wildly ajarred as her gaze stuck to the screen with tears swelling the corner of her ducts as her lips fell apart in these broken attempts of communication.

'-was born as the eldest son of Endeavour.'

‘Rei! Breathe, breathe, I’m right here for you. Please, what happened?’ You held her comfortingly, rubbing your palm in circular motions upon her back. God, how did this happen? Sorrow wretched your soul when she began to cry harder, frantically looking from the floor before her and the screen upon the tv. She shoved you away with as much force her could muster, you stumbled slightly back, in absolute shock. It had been a while since Rei had a any miniuscle of violence in her outbursts—let alone having an outburst in the first place, and it broke your heart to wonder why it was happening. You could tell her conciousness was slipping from the rapid breaths she choked to take, how her movements became more sluggish. She began to scream, her hands tangling into the hair on the side of her head as she knelt with her face to her knees. You reached into a nearby cabinet, taking a deep breath as you thrashed around the contents until your fingers wrapped about a minor sedative. It pained you, you haven’t had to go to such measures in so long. Your hand firmly on her shoulder, you told her everything was going to be alright before injecting the sedative and keeping your comforting words.

'I was created for my father's selfish dream.'

‘It’s okay, I’m right here. Don’t worry about a thing, Rei.’ You spoke gently, and her eyelids began weighing down to shut, before she looked deep into your eyes and whispered: ‘T-tell him I’m sorry.’ Your eyes followed her as she tried to look towards the tv. Upon the screen, a man was sitting upon a vintage couch. Throughout his body, horrid patches of purple plastered his skin, barely holding onto his stature with the use of staples, you could see the dip in his surviving skin and the bruised purple from the awful staple job on his body. It looked so painful your skin tingled in discomfort. With such a blatantly iconic look, how could you not recognize the man himself? Dabi. His hair was a messy black, his chin picked up toward the camera, and a darkened gaze of determination and resentment filled his eyes—a stare that would pierce the soul of any viewer.

'-my father would force my mother to give birth to more off-spring.'

How long had his voice been playing in the background? You stared, stared at the TV. You listened, listened to Dabi apathetically recall every horrifying detail Endeavour put his pitiful children through. The same details that had you shaken to insomnia at night when you first heard it through Rei's exasperated cries during her mental break downs. It was awful, Endeavour's actions were horrid. The neglect, the abuse, his cold demeanour, hearing both Rei and now Dabi recount those awful memories made you realize just how cold the air about you became as well - a sudden contrast as though your physical environment darkened from the heavy words Dabi spoke out about. You felt their pain, but you know you could never truly understand it. Not until you had gone through something the exact same, and even then, everyone processes trauma differently. Thus, empathy is such a golden key. The very key that had your shocked visage brim with tears. There wasn't a hint of pain in Dabi's voice, not yet, at least. Yet, you knew that years before, and deep inside his battered body, Touya was will trapped. Crying, begging, trying to crawl his way out. You saw a reflection of Rei in Dabi. The reflection of someone who was in pain but built these sky-high walls to hide any form of vulnerability.

‘Using the blood Endeavour left at the fight in Kyushu,’ his hand propping up a document, ‘there was a 99.99% match.’

Truly, it took a while to understand what you heard. Your eyes carefully traced the screen, ears perked up in denial as Dabi described every moment that Rei had described to you. Endeavour, the pain, the abuse, the screaming, the yelling. He recalled it with an absent look of apathy glazed across his face. His eyes reflecting that of an apathetic beauty. A look you recognized from the Rei who first walked into your care. If it weren’t for his unforgiving injuries, he would have been a splitting image of his mother. As you gazed upon his grotesque features, his lips mouthed the same name of the son who Rei prayed so desparately for the return of.

Yet you don’t think her prayers were answered in the best way.

You stared holes into that screen, watching his careful movements, scanning the paper Dabi held in his hands, as you watched his mouth moved it was in that moment that you realized you couldn’t hear. A ringing was blaring in your head as the only sensory you had left was that of sight. Your vision tunnelled, the sides of your perception clouding into black as you silently watched Dabi continue to expose that wretched hero who caused his dear family such tremendous misfortune. Dabi was the same Touya Rei cried to you with gulit over for all these years. The same Touya whos only remains found was a jawbone from the burning forest he died in. The same Touya who fell apart for the sake of his father’s dreams.

How isn’t he dead? It didn’t make any sense. His jaw, how was his jaw found without the rest of him? How had it come off? How did he survive the temperature of those flames being enough to cremate someone alive? Your eyes watched the screen, watched Dabi’s speech continue, that ringing spiking a headache of throbbing pain. Nothing made any sense. And you put your everything into focusing upon the scarred man on the screen so why did this have to happen? Rei was doing so well, it’s not fair, why did this have to happen? She doesnt deserve this to happen she had trued so fucking much. She didn’t deserve this, she was barely healed–

‘Miss Y/N! Is Mrs. Todoroki okay?’

Your coworker’s voice snapped you back into reality, and you stammered an apology before carefully placing Rei into her bed and turning off the tv with shaking hands. From the expression on your coworker’s face, you could tell they saw the footage aswell, their eyes nervously tracing to the ajarred cabinet door to the sedatives, understanding the regress in Rei’s stability from this entire situation.

Sadly, Rei’s instability wasn’t as fleeting as you had hoped. It didn’t take long for Rei to fall apart into the hole she fought so hard to climb out of. With the mantra of angered ex-Endeavor fans accusing her of child abuse, along with the constant paparazzi that flashed bright lights toward her window and posted her tear-struck face all over tabloids, you couldn’t blame her. For days after the incident, you refused to sleep. Staying by her side as she couldn’t rest at all. Although a hospital never sleeps, it still quiets at twilight. But no, not anymore. For even night didn’t tire the fucking protestors. They screamed out, police desparately trying to control the situation, although they were smart. Hugging the gates, not actually on the property of the hospital. Thus, the police couldn’t pull any legalities on them.

You never left the hospital anymore, every break and after your shifts, you would sit at Rei’s bedside. The aura was both somber and panicked, darkened with the occational sniffles and choked sobs of Rei’s rasped voice. Unlike the usual, you did not speak. You knew the voices in her head had come back now, and if you added your own, Rei wouldn’t be able to hold out any better than she already is. So, the only thing you knew to do was to never leave her alone, and her arms never left your back. You held her in an embrace every night, neither of you sleeping, neither of you talking. Slowly, she began to loosen her hold, gently sleeping a couple minutes a night with her chin resting on your shoulder. Your heart lit with hope, glad she could finally sleep a wink. Before long, she was truly able to fall into a decent slumber, her body resting against yours for a couple hours before she would gasp awake. Slowly but surely, improvement had come. And once Rei’s sleep schedule returned to some extent, you traveled back home to your apartment for the first time in over a week to gather your own well-deserved rest.

You wish you could say your return brought some comfort to you. But truly, the silence was eerie to say the least. Your mind was still worried. Worried that Rei would wake up in the middle of the night, all alone without you there. A part of you missed her already, but your boss became truly worried for your health after the bags under your eyes darkened into a bruise like hue. She demanded you at least go home for a night, and you relented. Truly, your body was giving up, and you needed the rest too.

Your keys twisted inside the lock as you pushed the door open, a familiar creak welcoming you back. You did not feel very welcome. The air was a piercing cold, with all the lights in your apartment off. The fact that it was late into the night did not help, with both an absence of light in your home and no twinkling stars to gaze upon. Everything was pure dark. You sighed, dumping your bag lazily by the door as you kicked off your shoes, taking heavy steps toward your room when you stopped. You stood still, so, so still. From the crack below your closed bedroom door, light bled into the dark hallway. You were scared, truly. You never leave the lights on before leaving, so what was happening here..? Why were the lights on?

A sense of dread filled your body, and you listened carefully. Nothing. No rummaging, no gentle thumps of someone’s steps, just the rays of light dauntingly brightening the floorboards and that white noise of ventilation. Quietly, you walked backward toward the front door, taking shaky breaths as your lungs quivered. You should’ve stayed with Rei. You shouldn’t have come. With how little sleep you had gotten, your mind felt as though you were floating. And obviously, you struggled to form any kind of rational thought about your current predicament. Despite that, you did have one thought. The thought that you must leave. Immediately. You didn’t care for your belongings, your jacket, nor your shoes and keys. All you cared for was to get the fuck out.

Every pore on the wall felt as though an eye was peering through, watching your pathetically fearful movements. Shivers spiked down your spine and every dark crack of any open door had an imagined silhouette peering through, faces tauntingly smiling to you through the dark. You were panicking.

Your hand gripped the knob, turning it slowly to stiffle it’s persistent creaks before you flung open the door to bolt outside. Your mind raced, breath hitching as steps slapped upon the cement. As you approached a corner, you turned your head back as you kept running—fully expecting the door to fly open and a figure to chase behind you. You couldn’t imagine why you had to have some burglary occur. You didn’t live in an exceptionally poor or rich area, and there were blatant security cameras throughout the building. The more you watched your back, the more you felt a little silly. Nothing came, and you nearly slowed down your bolt as a light chuckle of relief fell before your mouth. You’re safe, your apartment was safe. There’s no threat in your room, obviously, you must’ve forgotten to turn off the lights. You turned the corner as your bolt slowed into a jog. Yet, your momentary relief was short-lived the moment you roughly crashed into something in front of you.

You fell back, falling hard onto your ass with your palms scraping against the unforgiving texture of the floor. Gravel stung, digging into your open skid marks. Athough, that pain was nothing compared to the strike fear over who stood before you.

The very man upon your tv screen those days before.

The very man who single-handedly wrecked the top two heroes.

Dabi.

He looked down at you, a sickened gaze and smirk plastered over his graphic features. He looked manic, and he was manic. The way he demeaningly leaned down to you, hands dug deep into the pockets of his black slacks, the way he cocked his head to the side, it all made your throat starkly dry.

‘Why the long face, Y/N?’ You internally gagged, your name sounded so vile on his tongue, in the way his face stared at you with hatred. How does he know your name? What does he want? You stared up at him speechlessly, your jaw falling silent and eyes dropping wide with horror. Your mind raced in confusion. Jumping from one false hope to another, trying to relieve your fear that you might not survive this encounter. Your only connection with Dabi was as the nurse of his mother, was he extrapolating some revenge against her? But why? Endeavour had been the main perpetrator of the abuse, so why are you being dragged into this so mercilessly? You couldn’t think clearly, but you did know one thing. Both of you well knew Rei had barely anything to do with the harm Touya had endured. Yet, here he was. Newly born as Dabi, as the Dabi who stared down at you as though you coddled his worst enemy your whole life.

His hand shot toward your collar, the fabric ripping at certain ends from the sheer force he used to drag you closer to his face. Your hands grappled at his wrist, fingertips digging into his hand before your force hesitated when you latched right onto his staples. You were scared. You were really, really scared. The way his smile grew wider in response to those pathetic tears that welled in your eyes, the way he held you so tightly your windpipe felt as though it was burning in pain. You felt misjudged. Thrown into an undeserving cruelty that you hadn’t even sinned enough to deserve. But obviously, why would a villain care about whether or not you deserved their violence?

‘Why are you so scared? I’m only here to thank you.’ He quirked, eyes wide as he laughed at your pathetic expressions of fear and struggle. ‘You won't die, so don’t be too dramatic.’ He smiled, yet, you didn’t feel comforted. Heck, a part of you here realized how much you wish you could’ve died at this moment. Was living through whatever he was about to put you through better than hell itself?

‘You took care of my dear old mom ever since I left, comforting her all those nights, helping her recover from Mr. Number One.’ His grip tightened, your collar bunching up into his palms, harshly wheezing your throat as you struggled to breathe. You knew no amount of fighting back was going to drain him down to stop. Dabi had you stood completely upright, right up on the tip of your toes as he held the majority of your body weight up by your neck, still leaning forward to truly yell into your face. Even without the threat of his quirk, you’d never stand a fucking chance against him with how he towers over you. You could tell of the venom Dabi had in his recalling of your care as his mother’s nurse, his pupils dialating in fury. Had he felt things were unfair? That he hadn’t had the help Rei needed when he felt so much worse? You tried to be empathetic, trying to find a way so you could make it out alive. But the more Dabi tightened his hold on you, the more you realized you wouldn’t be getting out of this unscathed—far from it, actually.

‘I’m here to repay you. You know? You spent so many years caring for her, so I’ll repay your act of kindness.’ His voice dripped in sarcasm, venom seeping through as his spat out to you right in your face. Suddenly, his expression morphed, his smile churning so wide the staples holding his smile together began to rip at the corners of his mouth. ‘You know, that stupid woman isn’t the angel you keep treating her to be. Haven’t you seen little Shoto Todoroki? How do you think that scar on his precious face came to be?’ Your breath hitched as his grip tightened, your throat completely wrenched into his lone palm as heat began radiating through his fingers. Don’t listen to him, you told yourself. Rei messed up. She’s wasn’t the best mother. But no one helped her victim until she became the abuser. Shoto didn’t deserve that, neither did Rei deserve the cruelities of Endeavour, and nor did Touya deserve a crumb of the pressure he underwent. Can’t he understand that nearly everyone in this situation is some form of a victim? You felt frustrated trying to hold your tongue back against this man. He was blinded by rage, a rage that began rationally and morphed into something villianously sinister. It made you feel frustrated. He pitied himself too much. Everyone was struggling, Shoto and Rei too, so why was he so upset with you helping someone who needed to be helped?

‘You people disgust me. You save whoever the fuck you want, but leave the people who really need it out to burn up in a forest.’ You shook your head, shutting your eyes tightly in denial to his cruel accusations. You wanted to yell. Yell how stupid his words were, how tunnelled his thinking was. Dabi is being selfish. Yet, despite your anger, you were still striken with fear. You understood you were in no place to speak your mind, yet your words just spilled out in a frenzy.

‘You’re so linear.’ You said shakily, furrowing your eyebrows and trying to wrench your windpipe out of his grip so you could just barely breathe. ‘Rei was hurt too, she’s n-no angel, but she’s not such a demon either.’ You spoke quietly, but considered how you were choked up into the air it was remarkably impressive you could even get a peep out. Dabi seemed to only become amused, an upset form of amusement. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mainly from the physical agnoy, but moreso now that his palm began to luminate blue and heat up.

You were going to die over your fat tongue.

Your crying only seeming to fuel him even more as his smile ripped even wider. ‘I’m sorry— I didn’t mean it badly–‘ You panically wept. His eyes narrowed, a sense of absolute euphoria over the position of power he had. He felt so cocky, you know? He just ruined two of the top heroes’ careers and now he’s taking away the only support and comfort from his shitty mom. His revenge has just fucking started. He nonchalantly dropped your body onto the floor as he adjusted to stand straight. You crumbled to your knees, your hands flying to your throat as you wretched and coughed out. Your neck was painful to the touch, throbbing as you felt the bruise of his grip develop. Suddenly, he knelt down to one knee, looking at you with an unimpressed expression.

‘Don’t be so fucking dramatic. Be grateful you’re alive.’ He spat, his tone unforgiving. You sobbed, trying your best to sniffle your crying as you bit down on your lip and shut your eyes tightly—too stuck in horror to look at whatever the fuck your current situation was. From the fear of death you just had, you nearly wanted to thank him for sparing your life. Your hands violently shaking as you refused to look up to him, parts of you begging that this was all some bad trip. Suddenly, he laughed. He began to laugh, growing louder and more insane. You stopped breathing, opening your eyes to see him heaving in absolute exhilaration.

‘Don’t do that,’ He was profoundly euphoric, ‘you’re reminding me too much of how I cried to dear old Endeavour. What, are you trying to send me down memory lane?’ He finally calmed down a little, smiling at you as you knelt before him, fucking speechless. Your relief was immediately drowned out in the panic of what he was trying to do. He reached out, shoving his thumb into your mouth and forcing your jaw open. Taking his other hand, he forced two fingers down your throat without a shred of care. You gagged, grabbing his wrist and digging your nails into his skin as you felt a pill sink into being forced down into your body as he kept his fingers deep in your throat. Eyes wide as you tried to fight him off, jaw stiffening as you prepared to bite down on him. He stared you down warningly, his breaths deepening and hand warming on your jaw. You sobbed, relenting and loosening your grip on his wrist, shutting your eyes tightly. You felt a tear gently trickle down your cheek, it felt warm against your face. But not as warm as the threatening hand on your neck that wouldn't hesitate to burn. Dabi let go, standing up as you coughed out, feeling the pill stay stuck deep in your throat as you tried your best to ignore it. He lazily dragged his hand across your face, wiping your spit off his hand. You started to cry. Sobbing as quietly as you could as you heard. You could tell he was truly annoyed, clicking his tongue as he took heavy steps away from you - but still keeping a close enough distance to burn you alive if you tried to run away. You felt frustrated. What had you done to deserve this? What did he drug you with? Your panic made you hallucinate awful symptoms of the pill. The world began feeling dizzy, your head becoming light, ad your thoughts racing drunkenly. Although, rationally, you knew that you hadn't even digested the pill yet, so you tried your best to calm yourself down before the pill's effects would truly take place.

You didn't realize Dabi had taken his space between you two to take a quick call until he hung up, shoving his phone deep into his pocket before he looked back to you with a bored expression. 'Are you done crying?' He was annoyed. From the expression of apathy and boredom on his face, he resembled a tired dad sick of his children throwing a tantrum over every little thing. The way he looked down at you felt demeaning, and you felt your body shrink a little down into the core of your bruised heart. You wanted to stand up, your legs numb from being forced down to kneel this entire time. Yet, the fear you held over being burnt from any sudden movement kept you scarily still.

'Get up.' There wasn't a shred of care in his voice, but from the way he tangled his fingers in your hair, dragging you forward by it until you were knelt up awkwardly by his side like a dog, you weren't surprised by his verbal violence. Let alone his physical violence. You grabbed his hand, trying to ease the burning pain against your scalp. It felt as though your hair would rip from the root if he pulled just a little harder. Your eyes darted around, confusion to why he propped you up to him so closely. Was there some threat? Was something about to happen? You felt your heart pounding through your blouse, so loud it resonated inside your head. But, it didn't matter how much your scalp burned in pain. It didn't matter how your palms were still scraped open from your initial fall. It didn't matter how you had roughly fifteen minutes before that pill would digest. What did matter was that by the end of those fifteen minutes, you needed to be away from him and whatever he had planned for you. As though Dabi sensed your change in mood from fear to determination, his hand began to heat up.

'If you want to die, go ahead and try what you want. If not, stay down like the trash you are.' You felt the hope you built up crumble, maybe it was from Dabi's words. But mainly, it was from the literal crumble of the ground and roads in front of your apartment building. The way the earth caved in on the infamous stone-like creature that bulldozed through half of Japan—Gigantomachia of the League of Villians. His body was confined down so his brutish face was mere feet away from yours. His eyes were a glinted yellow, so much so they didn't resemble eyes in the slightest—moreso like large fragments of amber-filled or gold his sclera. You watched in horror as large rubbles of the road slipped down Machia's spikes, cracking their area of impact once they fell. Light after light turned on in your neighboring apartments, people opening their doors with pissed-off expressions darkened with eyebags. Looking to curse out whatever fool decided to make such a loud fuss in the middle of the night. Unsurprisingly, as the beast merely turned his head in their direction, and person after person ran out of their homes in wide-eyed fear.

Dabi rolled his eyes, unimpressed at their pathetic attempts at an escape. He raised his palm, flames bursting out from the center as screams of pain erupted. You stared in horror as the people you'd politely smile to every day burnt up before your eyes. You didn't plan it. Your arms reached up and grabbed Dabi's forearm to pull it down into our chest. You cringed when the flame lightly skimmed your shoulder, yet our grip on his arm remained iron. You refused to let people die right in front of you.

'What the fuck are you doing?!' He yelled, his flames dissipating as you watched a minuscule bunch run away safely. Dabi shoved you hard into the ground, glaring down at you in absolute annoyance. Yet you returned his glare, looking up at him with resentment. 'Fine, you wanna die? Go ahead.' He aimed his palm in your direction, a twinge of flames hurling out. Without a doubt, you were scared. You were scared of dying, scared of never seeing your loved ones again, and scared of the sorrow your death would cause. You hadn't had the impact you wished to have yet, yet here you were, about to die before barely making a dent of meaning in your life. But in that fear, you felt angry. Angry that you were being relentlessly harmed over helping someone who needed it, angry that Dabi would mercilessly burn the innocent without hesitation, and angry that he was mad at you over trying to save them. He was so unreasonable.

'God! Can you quit it?! I understand your pain, and I understand where you're coming from. But those people aren't Endeavour, Rei, or whoever else you hate! They didn't do anything to deserve being killed over, just like you didn't do anything to deserve what you went through as a kid. So why are you hurting them?!' You glared at him, adjusting your posture so you were sitting upright, a hand soothing the blistering burn on your shoulder. His flames fizzled out, and you saw his eyes widen. He was silent, still. As though for both of you, time stopped. You heard desperate steps fade away into the background, rubble from Machia falling upon the grass, and the sizzles of Dabi's flames eating away the fresh corpses that littered the scene about you two. His expression was apathetic, you couldn't read him. Yet, you felt his mind racing, before his palm picked up and slapped you, hard, right across your face.

'You understand me? Is that what you fucking said?' He was absolutely livid. You could hear the absolute anger in his voice, yet a soft smile spread across his lips. Your cheek felt stung, warm, and you were absolutely speechless. For some reason, him slapping you across your face felt more painful than the burn on your shoulder and the scrapes on your palms combined. It was the way he looked down at you. Down at you with absolute fury, as though you were a senseless fool. 'Don't you dare say you understand me when you haven't gone through what I did.' You could tell he wanted to kill you in that moment. You flinched when he reached out to you, expecting this to be your final moment. Instead, he threw you over his shoulder and jumped onto Machia's back, being dragged away to god knows where. You looked up to his face, catching a glimpse of his thumb wiping a droplet of blood from the corner of his eyes before wiping it onto his sleeve. Did he become injured? Or was that a common occurance? Truly, you shouldn't care. He had just battered you, violently dragging you upon the back of a rocky beast, and yet here your nursing instincts slapped you across the face to anaylze his aid.

Quickly, your brief confusion, or worry, for Dabi fell apart as you realized your legs couldn't feel the aggressive breeze of the wind against it's skin. You fought to move, to adjust your stature, yet you felt as though your nerves were burning, fighting against an invisble force that kept you scarily limp and still. Your heart began to pound in your chest, heavy breaths shaking your lungs as you nearly began to weep over what awful drug Dabi had foresaken onto you earlier. You felt constrained, uncomfortable, a distant tingle of pain tracing about the entirety of your skin as you tried to fight the stunt in your lower half. Your legs. Your legs were paraylzed. Your mind raced a mile a minute, heart dropping deep into your stomach. This isn't fair. It's not fair. You felt as though your life has fallen so far you couldn't even hear it's impact on the floor so down below. No resonating echoes, nothing. And that nothing was not at all what you deserved. You hand quivered, tracing across your shin to your thigh. It felt as though you traced your hand on another body, or a piece of your body that was no longer attached. You were disturbed, trying to keep your sanity together as your temples and eyes burned with frustrated tears. It wasn't until a tear hit your thigh, and you didn't even feel it, did you truly begin to break down.

Everything is a fucking mess.

#re-fucking-venge #yandere dabi #dabi #my hero academia #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader #mha x reader #bnha dabi #dabi smut #dabi headcanons #todoroki touya #todoroki toya #dabi angst

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leejenowrld · 2 days ago

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hi everyone!! i just wanted to share one of my close friends and moots essay style writing and review she so kindly wrote about ‘love me back.’ it’s written with so much detail, nuance and thoughtfulness <3 i shed so many tears reading it and writing my response. this is something i had to share, so please read it with a lot of care and attention. this post will be split into two parts, @outoforbit piece she sent me and then my response 🖤 buckle up. this is a long post but if you have time please give this a read, it will awaken your heart <3

[here is the original post @outoforbit made, here’s the think piece. i copied and pasted it exactly as it was written below but in case you wanted to read it in it’s original form, here you are]

part one — @outoforbit piece that she sent me, her essay style piece on ‘love me back.’

In a world where everybody dreams of chasing the glow of a superficial spotlight, two luminaries find solace in one another’s natural light.

I could wax on poetic about these two and their love story forever, but if I had to sum up why I adore Mark and Y/N together it’d be for the way they perceive one another:

In Y/N’s eyes, Mark Lee is the sun. A body of radiance that is essential. He’s got this burning gaze that could rearrange the cosmos if he wanted it so. He’s unstoppable on and off the court. He’s triumphant because he looks into the face of tribulation not just with a quiet, steady confidence, but a certain type of knowing acceptance that he is not who or wants anyone defines him to be— he’s above it. Instead of giving into the justifiable hatred and rage he’s accumulated over the years of living in the monumental absence that’s threatened to eclipse his entire identity since prior to his birth, he’s everything warm and nurturing. Instead of replicating the destruction that is determined to extinguish his hope, he extends genuine care and tenderness. A sure, forever-certain pillar amidst the relentless chaos and clashes. Everyone just looks on and can’t help but revolve around this once-overlooked hero whose star is on the rise. That’s why it’s so hard to hold his gaze. So hard to accept that under his watchful eye, he can cut through the glamorous veneer others admire, parse through what’s obvious to the naked eye for what’s behind her carefully constructed walls, and love every aspect of who she truly is. After all, even as a talented photographer that’s got an affinity for playing with shadow and light, how is anyone able to capture the essence of a heavenly body without going blind from that type of brilliance?

In Mark’s eyes, Y/N is the North Star. A steady, shimmering point in the sky in her own incredible right. Sure, there are other bright and shiny things to entice the eye. But who could carry themselves so effortlessly? Be (sometimes frustratingly) so far removed from reality yet possess the ability to knock the earth completely off its axis at the same time? No one could ever compare to how her existence alone could slow down time, draw him in, and allow him to free-fall. Joining the Seoul Hill Ravens basketball team had him on the fast track to confronting his own blood, grappling with his mortality, navigating a sea of newly-acquired adoring fans— and it’s so easy to get lost in all of that and more. It’s dizzying like watching a time lapse of night turn into day on 2x speed. When nothing seems to be going right, he turns to her because she is his constant. While the game doesn’t wait for anyone, while all eyes are on him —waiting for his next move with bated breath— he’s only watching her. He only sees his unwavering beacon of light, leading him home. Because she is his home. She doesn’t drift away like his so-called father, like his dashed dreams when his heart seems to have failed him. She never drifts when it really counts. She’s still there when he looks up, when he needs her most. She’s always had him wishing on her, for her —she’s always been his even before either of them knew it.

*I was toying with these comparisons in my mind for a long time, and when I remembered that section in Part Two, where Y/N tells Mark about how she snuck out late at night to take pictures of the sky and constellations, it really validated this train of thought.*

Now, these lovebirds aren’t the only characters that make this story as fantastic as it. So here are my (somewhat unserious) thoughts on some of the other all-star cast of characters:

Mark’s Best Friend

I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t hurt on behalf of Y/N when she doubted her relationship Mark, and was especially hurt when she got to hug him before Y/N was able to in Part Six. But I can understand that we haven’t gotten to know her all that well outside of what Y/N’s perspective shows. I think she deserves more grace than she receives. There’s a history there we haven’t seen. There’s an undeniable love behind those blunt approaches to protecting her best friend. I’m going to cheat a bit and reserve the rest of my thoughts regarding for Back To You. All I will say is, she’s grown quite a bit on me from what I do know, and she’s already got a home inside in my heart (I’ll be that adult and buy her the giant bean bag).

Jeno

It pains me so much to say he’s the one the didn’t get away. The one who couldn’t. (At least, not yet, anyway. Everybody go read Back To You!) Beneath the title of captain, beneath the jersey that makes him look extra hot (this is not me talking, I was trying to find Mark’s jersey number and Command+F brought me to several mentions of how great he looked in his jersey), beneath the one-who-has-it-all facade he wears like a second skin, is someone who loves so hard in the only way he knows how. Being the only son Taeyong acknowledges isn’t a blessing. Everybody knows this. Jeno knows this. However, Rome wasn’t built in a day, and dismantling Taeyong’s iron grip over the life Jeno’s worked so hard to craft for his father’s approval will prove to be a journey that’s full of strife and heartbreak. Even so, I look forward to seeing where his character will go in terms of not just setting, but also personal growth. I found myself writing and rewriting this portion about Jeno (it still proves to be quite difficult to express what it is I find so compelling about Jeno because I saw myself in him more than I care to admit; through his fiery impulses, through his defiance despite the influence his father still has over him) but personal feelings/experiences aside, there were a lot of scenes sprinkled throughout the series that could never be the same without his presence to foil and highlight other characters and the dynamics that progressed from it.

Karina

Oh, Karina, sweet Karina. I’ve attributed colors to about two people in my life. Neither of them have a color as vivid as Miss Hot Mess Express herself. Every time I see her name when I read Love Me Back, my mind just envisions nay, screams hot pink and sparkly! Rereading where you describe her in Part One, I feel like that color association makes sense now. She’s essentially the Energizer Bunny with awesome hair and pom-poms instead of sunglasses and drums. She’s the ultimate cheerleader —not just on the court, but also in life. She’s all about the good times (“She’s super fun, super flirty even with an ankle injury!” could be a cheer for her), but when she’s not having a good time, she doesn’t shy away from telling it like it is— especially to her best friend. When the laughter fades and the party’s over, she’s an eagle-eyed spectator who wants to experience true love first-hand, too. She deserves to have someone who loves her. She can see what it does to a person —love— the way it brightens you up, pushes you to make some rather bone-headed decisions, causes you to yearn for the other if you’ve been separated for even a second. I hope whoever is lucky enough to be with her constantly throws confetti and celebrates her.

Donghyuck

He’s the life of the party and hilarious. We all need a Donghyuck to be the commentator of our lives. He could make watching paint dry sound engaging and action-packed. His lively announcing made the harrowing matches so much fun, and I can’t wait to hear more from him. And him directing that dance routine in Part Three! That man really can do anything.

Chenle

Clearly he’s the arbiter of taste in any friend group. The one to pull a friend up after they’ve been knocked down during a fight. The one to tease you lovingly. The one to genuinely question your judgment, too. But he’s a ride or die friend, from the river court days to the Ravens team days. He’s seen it all. He may or may not be impressed.

Ningning

Ningning is my queen. She is fashion™ . She is all things fabulous. No notes. If anyone has any, no, they don’t— they need notes from her.

Irene & Seulgi

The two pretty best friends are a package deal, and they should apply for sainthood after everything Taeyong’s put them through

The way these two extend all love and no judgment towards their sons’ partners despite their painful past— and even taking time out of their day to offer advice and encouragement in Part Seven is something I will to exist in real life for everyone

Someone send these moms the prettiest, nicest smelling flowers. I love them so much

Sainthood Applicant #1

If Chenle’s the one who’s seen it all, well, Irene’s heard it all

+10 points for making sure her kids are attempting to practice safe sex in any capacity

I would make a terrible barista, but I’d love to work at her cafe. Name a cozier place in the entire series, I dare you

Real talk, though, Mark recounting how she cried after kids teasing Mark about his father and Jeno, and how he quit the little leagues for her broke my heart. Part Three was too real for me as both a reader and person

Taeyong might have not ever had an ounce of love for Mark, but Irene had enough love for the both of them and whoever else that would make the effort to be a part of the mother-son duo’s lives

Her strength to pick up the pieces and never look back is something I will to exist in real life for everyone

Sainthood Applicant #2

Again, Part Three, but Y/N’s thoughts are thoughts I’ve had regarding a personal situation

Paired with someone I love dearly and am so, so lucky to have in my life looking at me in the soft way Seulgi looks at Jeno and the ache of pity that Y/N feels for her— it actually made me optimistic that if I can feel seen from finding the things that haunt me, then there’s hope that things that made me feel joy from this series also exists in real life as well

I felt a little less crazy and alone the day I read this

Her endless kindness, her efforts to build a relationship with Mark and Irene for the sake of Jeno is a type of generosity I will to exist in real life for everyone

Dishonorable Mention:

Taeyong

I believe in a higher power in every universe. He is not that higher power. He will never be that higher power no matter how many times he schemes, manipulates, and cruelly attempts to crush the spirits of his sons and everyone they hold dear. The audacity of that man to come onto the court and berate and shame everyone he lays eyes on

There were some tears shed earlier, so my eloquence is lost on me. Here are some of scenes I would kiss on the forehead and tuck into bed every night for varying reasons:

“Without a second thought, he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd. You stand there, invisible, feeling like an afterthought. You watch as Jeno gravitates toward a group of girls, the kind you’ve seen around before—the ones who always seem to be in his orbit, looking for a chance to get close. They laugh at something he says, their hands grazing his arm, their gazes hungry. And Jeno, your supposed boyfriend, leans into it.

You watch as one of the girls, dressed in a tight, glittering dress, dances close to him, her body pressed against his as they move to the beat. Jeno’s hands rest on her waist for just a second—nothing more than a passing touch, but it’s enough to sting. Enough to make your stomach twist. She leans in to whisper something in his ear, and he smirks. It’s a look you’ve seen before—not necessarily malicious, just confident, like he’s always known how to handle this kind of attention. His eyes are a bit hazy, a mix of alcohol and the mood of the night, and he doesn’t even glance in your direction.” (Part One)

Now, this obviously isn’t the sweetest scene a person could read —let alone experience— but it so perfectly highlights how incompatible Y/N and Jeno are despite suffering similar issues. Tying back into my whole spiel about luminaries, Y/N doesn’t yet see her worth, her inner light. She’s going through the motions, thinking the only body of light in her life is Jeno, with his own entourage of bright young things (in sparkly dresses no less). At this point in the relationship, the person who should’ve seen her not only focused on everybody her, he didn’t even try to spare her a look. It’s got Y/N feeling like not only are they drifting further apart, but she’s slipping away from life in general, being more spirit than star.

As for Jeno, he’s not doing too hot either, not really. Having his girlfriend not understand the weight of his incoming brother stir all sorts of fear in him made him throw himself further into the company of people that appreciated what he could control: his carefully constructed reputation. He’s drifting too, desperately search for warmth and light in places that won’t suffice. But he’ll pretend they’ll due because it’s easier, more comfortable to live the fake life he knows than leave for any love that’s true.

“As the game continues, it’s clear that Jeno underestimated his brother. Mark isn’t just holding his own—he’s thriving. Each basket he makes feels like a step out of the shadow Jeno has cast over him for so long. For Jeno, this is about dominance, about keeping Mark out of his world. But for Mark, it’s about more than that. It’s about carving out his own place, about proving he can hold his own.” (Part One)

I’m a broken record, but I won’t stop playing with this comparison of these beloved characters to stars. You can’t cover the sun, not really. Sure, the moon might slide on by and cast a shadow onto the earth to make you think such a light could be swallowed whole. I know Jeno’s mentioned as the shadow in the text, but I think the true shadowy menace is Taeyong and the damage he’s done to these boys. For years, he’s pretended one son doesn’t exist and the other is constantly pushed to the breaking point. Jeno is acting on behalf of him, going off what he was taught. So Jeno thinks he’s losing his life, but in reality, he’s slowly losing a shadow himself. He’s operating out of a deep-seated fear while his brother carries on with quiet confidence.

Back to Mark. He may not have had Taeyong, but he had all the warmth and love Irene and Doyoung could give. For everything people mocked him for lacking, he possessed something Jeno was deprived of. He grew up in an environment full of freedom that encouraged him to cultivate his own light, to nurture it into something truly astonishing. He’s truly confident and he’s got the skills to back it up. When you shine that bright, who can really stop you? When you have your own light, why would you ever feel the need to steal it from anyone else?

“You let your hand rest on top of his, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. His fingers instinctively intertwined with yours, the touch delicate yet reassuring. It was more than just physical contact—it was the silent understanding that you weren’t alone anymore, that he was here, holding you through it all.” (Part One)

Guys, gals, and non-binary pals, the luminaries have made contact, I repeat, the luminaries have made contact.

This is peak intimacy

After everything that’s been going on and falling apart, Mark’s presence, his gentleness and warmth has brought Y/N home. Gravity has never felt so good

“His smile widened a fraction, but he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. With slightly trembling fingers, you reached into your bag and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package—a record you had made just for him. The case was simple, but you had taken the time to customize it—his name written in a looping script across the front, surrounded by small doodles of guitars and basketballs. You had put more effort into it than you’d ever admit, each stroke of ink a small way of thanking him without having to say the words.” (Part Two)

Would a 2000s teen show inspired romance be complete without a custom mix to express your gratitude???

We need to bring this back, or maybe it never stopped and I’m out of the loop

Bottom line is this shit is cute, especially because Y/N is artistic and Mark’s a music major so it’s so personal and thoughtful

““Relax,” he says again, his voice low, soothing, his gaze focused on you as if you’re the only thing in the room. “Just be yourself. That’s all I’m asking.” His fingers adjust the angle of your arm, his thumb brushing along your wrist as he guides you into a natural, comfortable pose. The intensity in his gaze makes you feel like he’s peeling back every layer, seeing something raw and true beneath your surface.

He lifts the camera, snapping a few shots, his focus unwavering. “That’s perfect,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking from the viewfinder to you, his smile soft, encouraging. “Just like that.” There’s a quiet reverence in his tone, as if he’s in awe, like he’s seeing you in a way no one else ever has.” (Part Two)

Peak intimacy, but with photography

It’s really sweet to see Y/N, someone who’s always been on the other side of the camera to capture other’s beauty, finally be seen by someone who not only sees her, but wants to see her for all that she is beyond her physicality

I think it’s in these moments that Y/N is learning to let the light into her life, letting Mark into her life by sharing something that’s important to her (her artistry, her craft)

“Her frustrations are further compounded by the fact that she can’t openly express these feelings without seeming petty or envious. So, she remains silent, wrestling with her feelings privately, which only adds to the weight of her isolation. Every laugh and whisper she overhears, every moment she witnesses of your shared happiness, is a reminder of the void within her own emotional landscape, making her feel even more detached and alone.

Thus, her reactions and expressions are not just about the disruption in the household or the inconveniences caused by your romantic escapades. They are about a deeper, more personal ache—an ache for connection, for being seen, for being part of something as effortlessly beautiful as your relationship with Mark. In her quiet moments, she grapples with these feelings, unsure how to bridge the gap between her loneliness and the contentment she observes in you.” (Part Three)

Here, I go again, talking about light. In Karina’s case, I think she’s got disco ball vibes. It may sound less impressive compared to the sun or a star, but I genuinely believe Karina is her own special sort of light. A million reflective pieces placed onto a sphere that never stops sparkling or spinning, matching the mood and raising the vibes. She’s a dancer. An entertainer. The one who can’t be missing from a party.

But what happens when the party ends? It’s not that she stops sparkling, but when you spend so long reflecting someone else’s shine —in this case, Mark’s sun and Y/N’s star— how long before you start to wonder it would feel like to be seen that way too?

Karina’s always been by Y/N’s side, always trying to lift her spirits and show her support. It can be scary to feel like you’re being replaced. It can be isolating to want love but not know where to find it

“The light in Mark’s eyes and the broadness of his smile as he embraces his mother capture you completely. He seems to radiate happiness, the kind that fills the space around him and draws people in. His cheeks, surely aching from smiling so much, only add to the warmth that his expression carries. Watching him in such a pure moment, you can’t help but feel a surge of joy that tightens your chest in a familiar, yet always surprising, way. It stirs something deep within you—a mix of admiration and a sharp pang of longing. What was this tightening in your chest that seemed to draw tighter with each of his smiles?

Seeing him like this makes you ache to be by his side. You want to be the one he shares these moments with, someone who can give him the same comfort and support that he gets from his family. The happiness on his face brings a soft smile to yours, even as you feel a small pang of longing, wishing you could step closer, congratulate him, and tell him how proud you are. But, for now, you stay where you are, letting the warmth of his happiness reach you from afar.

“That’s how he looks when he’s with you,” Karina murmurs, startling you. She’s right beside you, and her presence snaps you back to reality. You quickly ask about her condition, recalling the fight she’d been involved in. She waves off the concern, showing only a few scratches. “We handled it,” she assures with a wry smile.

Your attention drifts back to Mark, who now converses with a man standing close to his mother. The man’s presence is comforting, almost fatherly as Mark looks at him with evident respect and fondness. Curiosity about his identity flickers through your mind, but the warmth of seeing Mark surrounded by love overshadows it.” (Part Three)

It’s starting to feel all too real, isn’t it? It’s easy to get lost in the darkness, to get used to it. We’ve seen some characters revel in the darkness in order to bask in a superficial light. Jeno fighting his brother for the spotlight that Mark’s never wanted. Karina strung up for temporary joy, fixed to the ceiling and not the sky she craves. Y/N still caught in the residual darkness of her past relationship and self-doubt. Three close friends who grew up in an environment abundant in artificial light. It can be hard to break free, to recognize the natural radiance of a genuine support system. When you get a taste of it, even from afar, how do you stretch out your hand and accept it? What if it dims because they had to share it with you?

I’ve felt that fear before. I’ve felt like my heart was a gaping blackhole in my chest where a heart should be. I imagined myself to be a thief, a light-snatcher of sorts. In the case that I ever generated enough light to share, it would somehow not be enough to sustain someone else. But everybody’s got an inner light, and these lights only make the world brighter. When it comes from a place of love, it won’t dim. When it’s nurtured, it won’t extinguish. This is the heavenly sight that unfolds before their eyes when they watch Irene and Doyoung showing up and celebrating their son Mark.

“Mark’s smile was calm, reassuring. “I wanna introduce you to all of my friends,” he said, his expression warm as he glanced down at you.

You nodded, but your heart raced. Even though you’d been here once before with Mark, this felt entirely different. This wasn’t just the two of you stealing a quiet moment together—this was stepping into a world that meant so much to him, meeting the people who had shaped and supported him long before you were in the picture. The weight of the moment settled over you as the court came fully into view, the sacred space alive with movement and laughter.” (Part Four)

I really love the reverence Y/N has for the life Mark has outside of her. I know she’s nervous, but this was equally important to Mark. He wanted to let someone he loved into his world, he wanted to share all the things and people that made him who he is with the person he wants to spend his future with. Their little world is expanding, and the light is shining brighter on them.

“Karina doesn’t let up, her hand still resting gently on your knee. “I know it’s not,” she says, her tone patient but firm. “But you’re making yourself miserable trying to live up to what everyone else thinks or expects. The only person who needs to believe in this relationship is you—and Mark. He’s chosen you, Y/N. Every single day, he chooses you. Doesn’t that mean something?”

Her words dig deep, unravelling the knot of doubt and fear tangled inside you. “What if I’m not enough?” you whisper, the confession slipping out before you can stop it. “What if I’m the one who ruins it?”

Karina listens quietly, her brows furrowed as she takes in every word, her hand resting lightly on your knee as if to ground you. When you finish, her voice is soft but steady. “You know,” she starts, “the way you’re reacting… it’s not unnatural. When something feels this real, this overwhelming, it’s instinct to want to push it away. You’re scared because it matters so much.” Her words hit you like a gentle nudge, a reminder that your feelings aren’t abnormal, but they still don’t make you feel any less guilty.

“But, Y/N,” she continues, leaning forward, “Mark makes you happy. I can see it. Everyone can see it. He’s good for you in a way no one else has been. He brings out something better in you—makes you lighter, freer, even when you don’t realise it. And I think you do the same for him. That’s rare, and you deserve that. You deserve someone who makes you feel this way, even if it’s scary.”” (Part Five)

Shit’s getting real. Words are exchanging, and not all of them are sweet and patient ‘I love you’s. The blood feud alone was enough to weigh on Y/N’s mind. But the brothers aren’t the only ones fighting. To feel a love as real as the one Mark has for her is terrifying. She’s battling herself, and she could lose it all.

I’ll never sing enough praises for Karina being a guiding light to Y/N, helping her make sense of the matter at hand. It’s not just Mark that chooses Y/N. Karina chose her too. Y/N’s got some great people by her side.

Y/N doesn’t have just a soulmate in Mark. She’s found one in Karina too. And she can start showing herself some love by allowing the good to enter her life. She’s allowed to be happy, to be seen, to be loved.

“And then, as if sensing the shift in the air, Jeno glances toward Taeyong, who stands near the edge of the court, clipboard in hand, his posture rigid. “This guy’s gonna kill us,” Jeno says, his voice low but tinged with a rare, conspiratorial edge. His laugh is dry as he gestures subtly toward their father, who looks every bit the control freak he is, hunched over his notes with an intensity that borders on manic.

Mark’s eyebrows furrow slightly, but he doesn’t dwell on it. He plays along, responding like nothing had ever gone wrong. “Yeah,” he mutters, wiping the sweat from his forehead and glancing toward Taeyong, who is hunched over his clipboard, scribbling with an intensity that feels borderline obsessive. “But we’re not gonna let him.”

Jeno turns to him, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Mark mirrors the expression, his own smirk creeping up. “I may be thinking worse,” he replies, a quiet defiance in his voice. “You know how much I hate that man.”

The shared admission hangs in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken solidarity.” (Part Five)

While Y/N have had a heart to heart, it’s time the Lee brothers were shown some love. This love is defiant. For all the brashness that Jeno usually exhibits, this feels different. It feels like bravery. He’s found a kindred spirit in his estranged brother Mark. Despite leading separate lives, they both lived under Taeyong’s shadow. But in this brief moment, they can overpower that looming absence of light together. They recognize their father’s stolen their shine, but they’re making moves together to not let that happen anymore —even if it’s just for today.

“You glance back at Mark, unable to stop yourself. He’s leaning against the bleachers now, his head tilted back slightly as he laughs at something Jeno said. He looks so at ease, so untouched by the chaos that’s been consuming you. And for a moment, you wonder if you made the right choice. Maybe he really is better off without you, without the mess you bring into his life.” (Part Five)

I know it’s easy to get caught up in this whirlwind romance. I’ve gushed about it for so long. But there’s so much more to love than what’s shared between lovers. Y/N, still wallowing in her own doubt, can’t yet recognize that the bond that Jeno and Mark could share won’t be sullied by her presence. It’s okay to let more than one type of love in at a time— even if it’s not fully formed or completely realized.

“Without a word, you smacked his chest, narrowing your eyes as you shifted to straddle him, your movements slow and deliberate. His grin faltered slightly, replaced by a flicker of something softer, more serious, as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You need to promise me,” you whispered, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and determination. “Promise me you’ll tell your coach, go to the doctors, and get your medication. I don’t care if you hate it. I don’t care if you’re scared. I don’t care if you hate that your dad has the same condition.” You paused, your voice breaking slightly as your fingers tightened against his skin. “None of that matters, Mark. The only thing that matters is you. I need you alive. I need you happy and healthy. You’re everything to me.”” (Part Five)

Y/N is basically telling Mark she loves him without telling him she loves him

She’s had the capacity to love all along, she was just so caught up in her self-doubt

Mark really is the sun in her life, if he goes, she’s going with him

““I’m so proud of you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. Your thumb brushes along his cheekbone, wiping away the faint trace of tears. He doesn’t respond, but he presses his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you. His eyes flutter closed, his face tilting into your touch as if seeking out more of your warmth, your reassurance.” (Part Six)

I don’t have anything profound or revolutionary to say, I just live for these moments where the love Y/N’s experienced/seen now has her showing love in that same way. Character development!

“Doyoung turns his attention to Jeno, his expression shifting into something softer, almost hesitant. “And you, Jeno. You’ve been carrying your own weight, haven’t you? I see the way you look out for Mark, the way you protect him—whether it’s from himself, from others, or from all the crap life throws at him. You don’t just step up when someone asks you to. You do it because you care. Because you’re loyal. And it’s not just about Mark. You’ve been trying to hold this family together in your own way, even if you don’t realize it.”

Jeno’s brow furrows slightly, his posture stiffening. “I don’t know about all that,” he mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just do what I can.”

Doyoung shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s more than that. It’s the way you show up. For Mark. For everyone around you. And I want you to know, Jeno—I’m proud of you.”” (Part Six)

Again, nothing profound. The scene is already so well-written and so full of love and recognition. Jeno deserves it just as much as anybody else in this story (except Taeyong obviously)

““I am serious about him,” you pressed on, your voice growing stronger, more resolute with each word. “More serious than I’ve ever been about anything in my life. Mark isn’t just someone to me—he’s everything. And yeah, I’ve let him down before, but that’s not who I am anymore. I’ve spent so much time running from my feelings, trying to figure out what I want, and it’s him. It’s always been him.”

Chenle’s eyes lifted cautiously to meet yours, uncertainty softening the rigid lines of his face. He didn’t speak, but his silence felt less like rejection and more like quiet consideration.

“I’m not here to argue,” you added, your voice gentler now but no less firm. “I’m here to prove you wrong. To prove to you, to Mark, and to myself that I’m ready. That I deserve him. Because he’s mine, and I’m his. And I’m not letting him go.”” (Part Six)

When I first read this part, I was so nervous I thought my heart was gonna explode. What would Chenle say?? What would Mark say??

Rereading it, I feel a sense of peace knowing it was Y/N’s time to put in the work to prove that she loves Mark, that’s she serious about him and about them. I’m proud of her.

“Then he jumped. It was the kind of jump that stole the breath from your lungs. Time seemed to stutter as his body soared, muscles taut and perfectly aligned, his form defying the laws of physics. His arm stretched upward, commanding the ball with a precision that was almost primal, before slamming it through the net with a force that sent a violent shudder through the backboard. The crack of the dunk reverberated through the gym, but it was instantly drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd.” (Part Seven)

I know I’ll never do this justice. I’ve made my peace with that. You made all the magic, and we’re just here to experience it and appreciate it

I’m sorry, Nabi, I’m keeping that giant bean bag for myself because this scene will live in my heart forever. I need a comfy seat to relive it forever

Every time I watch One Tree Hill and a scene where Lucas is shown to make a shot, I think of this scene and I stop breathing for a bit

If there’s anything cheesy input I have for this awesome scene, it’s this: To love is not to diminish, but to thrive. Real love doesn’t burden you, digging its talons into like some scavenger on the hunt, wanting you to bleed. It’s uplifting, helping you sprout wings, letting you soar. (iykyk)

Is it possible for two celestial bodies to share the same sky and almost never touch? Of course, but it’s far from impossible. What easily could’ve been exclusively a story about star-crossed lovers on the courts, Love Me Back recounts the electrifying tale of letting the light into a cold, lonely existence. A defiant testament that even the most patient and loyal of loves can pierce through a never-ending darkness and transcend any pre-determined history.

*Eagle-eyed readers will notice I've left out all the crucial, super sexy scenes. Again, I could never do it justice the way it was intended. Anyone that's made it this far should go read this for themselves. Experience it for the first time. Experience it again for the seventh time. Forever if you'd like (and should). I know I'm hyperbolic, but this truly was a life-changing series for me in more ways than one. GO READ IT!!! CHECK OUT SOPHIE'S WORK!!!*

part two — my response

thank you so much for sending me this beautiful, incredibly detailed review. i genuinely don’t even know where to begin because you’ve given me so much to think about, reflect on, and appreciate. i’m floored by the effort and depth you’ve put into this—it’s clear how much love and attention you’ve given to these characters, and it means the absolute world to me. i’m going to do my best to respond to every point you’ve raised because every single part of this deserves recognition. genuinely i shed tears and i reread everything twice with the biggest adoration and gratitude in my heart. thank you, truly 🖤

mark and y/n: the sun and the north star

this is… breathtaking. i’ve spent so much time in mark and y/n’s heads that i never stopped to consider how they might look from someone else’s perspective. the way you’ve described them, with mark as the sun and y/n as the north star, has given me a new appreciation for their dynamic. the way you see mark—this unstoppable, nurturing, resilient force who somehow turns his pain into warmth and light—is exactly who i’ve always wanted him to be. your observation about how he chooses tenderness over anger, care over destruction, is such an insightful take on his character. and your point about how he sees y/n, how he cuts through her defenses and loves her for who she really is, is just… perfect. you’ve captured their connection better than i ever could.

and then y/n as the north star—i’m speechless. your description of her as a constant, someone who can anchor mark even when everything else is spinning out of control, is so moving. i love that you picked up on how she’s his home, his safe place, the one thing he can always count on. and the way you tied it back to the constellation scene in part two? chef’s kiss. it’s such a thoughtful connection, and it shows how much care you’ve put into understanding their story.

mark’s best friend (nabi)

i love that you’re giving her grace because she’s such a complicated character. everything she does comes from a place of love, even if it’s not always easy to see from y/n’s perspective. the history she shares with mark is so important, and i’m glad you recognized that. her bluntness might rub people the wrong way, but she’s fiercely protective of the people she loves. i can’t wait for you to see more of her in back to you—i think her story will surprise you. and yes, she absolutely deserves a giant bean bag for everything she’s been through (and will go through) ;)

jeno

your thoughts on jeno broke my heart in the best way. he’s such a layered character, and you’ve captured his struggle so beautifully. the way you described him as someone who “loves so hard in the only way he knows how” is spot-on. his relationship with taeyong is such a huge part of who he is, and i love that you see the complexity in that. he’s trying so hard to live up to impossible expectations, and it’s tearing him apart. but at the same time, he’s so compelling because he wants to be better, even if he doesn’t always know how. your comment about seeing yourself in him really touched me—it’s a reminder of how universal some of these struggles can be. i’m so excited for you to see where his journey goes in back to you because he has so much potential for growth.

karina

hot pink and sparkly is such a perfect way to describe her! i love that you see her as this vibrant, energetic presence who reflects the light of those around her. but you’re absolutely right—there’s a vulnerability beneath all that sparkle. she wants to be loved just as much as anyone else, and it’s hard for her to see that kind of love happening around her without feeling like she’s missing out. your hope for her to find someone who celebrates her is so sweet, and it makes me even more excited to explore her character further in future stories.

donghyuck

what would we do without him? he’s such a joy to write, and i’m so glad you enjoy his energy. he brings so much levity to the story, but he also has these moments of surprising depth that i think add a lot to the dynamic. he’s the ultimate hype man, and i hope he continues to bring you as much joy as he brings me.

chenle

your description of chenle as the arbiter of taste made me laugh because it’s so true. he’s the friend who keeps everyone grounded, but he does it in his own teasing, loving way. he’s seen so much of these characters’ journeys, and his perspective is always one i look forward to exploring more.

ningning

queen. fashion™. no notes needed—she’s fabulous, and i love that you love her.

irene & seulgi

your love for these two warms my heart. they’ve both been through so much, but their strength and kindness never waver. i’m so glad you see how much they mean to their sons and to the story as a whole. their moments with mark and jeno are some of my favorites because they’re such a reminder of what love and resilience look like.

taeyong

yes, dishonorable mention indeed. he’s such a looming presence in the story, and i love that you see how his influence casts a shadow over everything. but i also love that you see how mark and jeno are slowly finding ways to step out of that shadow. it’s a journey, and it’s not an easy one, but it’s so rewarding to see them start to reclaim their own lives.

your breakdown of your favourite scenes makes my heart swell with happiness and gratitude. this part alone deserves its own detailed response by myself. and i’m so grateful you had the chance to reflect on these specific moments and their layers. this entire breakdown is a testament to the thought and love you’ve poured into this and your support for me, and i’ll do my best to address everything with the same depth you’ve shown.

“without a second thought, he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd…”

this scene from part one is such a raw, painful moment, and your analysis brought a whole new light to it. you captured y/n’s invisibility perfectly—the way she feels reduced to a shadow, fading away while jeno gravitates toward people who only appreciate the surface level of him. your description of her being “more spirit than star” at this point is so evocative. it’s heartbreaking to think about how little she sees her own worth in this moment, especially when she’s clinging to someone like jeno, who’s equally lost but better at masking it.

and jeno—your take on him is spot on. his retreat into a life he can control, even if it’s fake, mirrors y/n’s own struggles. it’s not that he doesn’t care about her; it’s that he’s too consumed by his own demons to show it in the way she needs. your insight into his carefully constructed reputation and his need for validation is exactly what i hoped readers would see. he’s drifting, yes, but his actions are rooted in fear and an aching need for something real, even if he doesn’t know how to find it yet.

“as the game continues, it’s clear that jeno underestimated his brother…”

i love your breakdown of the lee brothers’ dynamic here, especially the way you compare their journeys to celestial bodies. jeno being trapped in taeyong’s shadow, acting as an extension of his father’s will, is such a painful reality. he’s trying so hard to dominate a world that was never truly his to control, while mark is carving out his own space with quiet, unshakable confidence. your point about taeyong being the real shadow is so profound—he’s the one who’s poisoned their relationship, and both brothers are trying to break free from his influence in their own ways.

mark’s journey, on the other hand, is a testament to resilience and love. he’s had irene and doyoung nurturing his light, and that foundation gives him the strength to thrive in ways jeno hasn’t yet learned. your reflection on how mark’s inner light makes him unstoppable is such a beautiful way to frame his character. he doesn’t need to steal anyone else’s shine because he’s already built his own, and that’s what makes him so magnetic.

“you let your hand rest on top of his…”

this moment is one of my personal favorites because it’s such a quiet, intimate turning point. y/n finally lets herself be vulnerable with mark, and in doing so, she starts to see that she’s not alone anymore. your description of this as “peak intimacy” is perfect—it’s not just physical contact; it’s emotional connection, a promise that mark will hold her through whatever comes next. you’ve captured the gravity of this moment so well, and it’s a joy to see how deeply it resonated with you.

“his smile widened a fraction…”

this scene with the customized record is such a quintessentially 2000s teen romance moment, and i love that you see it as a reflection of y/n’s artistry and her growing connection with mark. it’s such a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about how much thought and care she’s starting to put into their relationship. your call to bring this tradition back made me smile because it’s such a lost art, and it fits y/n and mark’s dynamic perfectly.

“relax,” he says again…”

your take on this photography scene is everything i hoped for and more. y/n, who’s always been behind the camera, finally being seen and celebrated for who she is, is such a pivotal moment. mark’s gaze is transformative here—he’s not just looking at her; he’s showing her that she’s worth being seen, worth being captured. your description of this as her learning to let the light in is so poignant. it’s a moment of trust and intimacy that sets the stage for everything that follows.

karina and her disco ball vibes

your metaphor for karina is both hilarious and heartbreakingly accurate. she’s so used to reflecting the light of others, to being the life of the party, that it’s easy to forget she has her own shine. your empathy for her struggle to feel seen is so touching, and it’s exactly what i wanted to convey with her character. she’s vibrant and dynamic, but beneath all that sparkle, there’s a vulnerability that makes her so human. your hope for her to find someone who loves her for all that she is warms my heart.

“the light in mark’s eyes…”

this reflection on mark’s happiness and y/n’s longing is such a beautiful summary of their dynamic at this point. mark’s joy is infectious, and y/n’s yearning to be part of that light is so relatable. your recognition of karina’s quiet support here is such a lovely touch—it’s a reminder that love comes in many forms, and even when it’s hard, it’s worth fighting for.

“karina doesn’t let up…”

karina’s pep talk in part five is one of the most important moments in the story, and you’ve articulated why so beautifully. she’s not just supporting y/n; she’s challenging her to see her own worth, to believe that she deserves the love mark is offering. your point about y/n finding soulmates in both mark and karina is so moving—it’s a reminder that love isn’t limited to romance, and that we all need people who lift us up and push us to be better.

the lee brothers’ shared defiance

your description of this moment as bravery is so perfect. jeno and mark are finally starting to find common ground, to see each other not as rivals but as brothers who’ve both been hurt by the same man. their shared defiance against taeyong is such a powerful moment of solidarity, and it’s one of the first steps toward healing their fractured relationship.

“you glance back at mark…”

y/n’s lingering doubt here is so poignant, and your reflection on how it ties into her fear of being a burden is spot-on. she’s still learning to trust that she’s enough, that she doesn’t have to dim anyone else’s light to let her own shine. it’s a slow, painful process, but it’s moments like this that show how far she’s come and how much further she’s willing to go.

final thoughts

your last paragraph about letting the light into a cold, lonely existence is so powerful. it perfectly encapsulates what i’ve always wanted this story to be—a testament to the power of love, resilience, and finding your own light. i’m so grateful for your kind words and for the way you’ve shared your own experiences and connections to the story. it’s readers like you who make writing such a joy, and i’m so thankful to have you as part of this journey.

thank you, thank you, thank you for this incredible review. your support and insight mean the world to me, and i’m so excited to share more of these characters’ lives with you in back to you. you’ve truly made my day with this, and i hope my response does justice to the love and care you’ve put into your words.

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chaoticgoodthief · 1 month ago

Note

for the stp ask game: 5, 11, 23 (Smitten)?

5. Who is your favourite Voice?

No matter how long I play, Contrarian still holds a special place in my heart. He's basically everything I want in a character. Silly little goober, now with a free serving of Trauma TM. As much as I love Hero like most people do, I've been loving the Silly Guys + Pain combo meal for ... probably a good few years.

11. Any non-canon Vessel-Voice you think is fun to see?

Hmmm tough choice. I mainly enjoy Voice-Voice dynamics personally, although I'm not really sure why. And even the Vessel-Voice interactions that I do see are usually most enjoyable when canon because they have history with each other.

But that being said, I do think Opportunist and Tower would be really fun. The Voice most prone to betrayal and the Vessel that expects nothing but submission and loyalty. Considering thow you can get Opportunist in the first place (*cough cough* let the Narrator control your body *cough cough*), it would be fun to see what plan Opportunist comes up with. Who knows? It might not even be that different to Broken's plan, even if done based on different reasoning.

23. Any first impressions regarding Smitten? How about now?

Ooooh boy, prepare for a ramble, buddy.

Surprisingly, I clocked onto the dark side of that little lovebird's deal fast. My very first impression of him was kind of... eh. That's sure a guy. But then, when he immediately sided with Opportunist when Opportunist was on team Save The Princess and started talking about "redemption". I got Burned Grey, saw how quick he was to turn against the Long Quiet when the Princess died, his well... burning hatred for Cold.

And I think that's when things clicked. This was the messed-up Paladin, who likely would hurt the people around him in the name of "doing the right thing". There seemed to be no limit to how far he could go if he thought his actions justified, no way to calm his dangerously volatile emotions other than the Princess' presence. If he and Opportunist were left to their own devices after the Thorn route, I would be more concerned for Opportunist's safety.

My impression has only been further solidified the more I learnt about him. His refusal to acknowledge the harm done by even the worst of the Princess' actions. His actions in Dams3l and the events leading up to it. All of them pointing to me being right on the money of my initial assessment of the warning signs. (so much so that I even unknowingly predicted Dams3l when writing an AU version of him, but that's a story for a different time).

...So overall, pretty consistent impression on Smitten's personality.

Thank you so much for the ask!!! This was super fun! :D

#answered #slay the princess

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ewondare · 2 months ago

Text

I know how disturbing the actual story and idea behind “punish” is, but thought I could also share my personal twisted relationship with the song. and maybe, even extend this to Hayden’s other songs. (even the ones she does under different names than Ethel Cain.)

“Shame is sharp,

and my skin give so easy.”

I have a severe case of eczema. the sickness itself is connected to so many things but most of all, my mental state. and when it flares up, it does so in an extreme manner. to the point that I can’t leave my house because all my scars and rashes just burn me with every touch between the cloth and my skin.

and it disorients how I look as a person. I don’t look so much human anymore. I don’t think I’m confident enough yet to share the photos I have taken from my body and all that… incurable, ugly, ugly disease on my skin. and it’s a never ending cycle, me feeling distant and hatred towards myself, me getting more horrifying and dehumanized because of the eczema that thoughts have triggered, and getting more of these thoughts because of this new level of sickness.

“I give in so easy.

Nature chews on me.

little death like lead.

poisonous and heavy.

It has always been this way.”

in my darkest days, the only peace of mind I’ve felt, was of Death. I get locked away in my body with all the shame there is to feel.

and forcefully, I am to face my own monstrosity, that has fed from my shame, fury and fear through all these years, until becoming me. until becoming this rancid clot in me.

my blood is heavy, so much so that it pulls me in. something beneath the soil wants me. and I have dreamed it to be death. and loved it in this shape for years and years. waiting gracelessly for it to come and take me away.

because through all the shedding skin, and sickened blood, and tired organs, and overwritten scars, what is left to hope? what help is left to seek? what non-cure treatment is left to drink, or eat, or be eaten by it.

there is no way I can be clean.

there is no way I will be free of my own infected mind. that is capable of bringing endless misery to me in all shapes and forms, and can deform me.

“in the morning,

I will mar myself again.”

I remember the days my sickness was at its worst, and had me, claws turning inward, Punishing myself for suffering like that. when the sickness comes for me, it comes for blood, and paralyzes me. and through stillness, I look inward, and backwards through time, trying to justify what is happening to me.

because how cruel of a monster could I have been, that deserves this torturous suffering? and I scratch my skin, or what’s left of it, until there is nothing left other than fresh flesh and old wounds.

“I am punished by love.”

“it has always been this way.”

they say the opposite and lack of Love, is Shame. And I am filled with shame. and the love I hold for my torture and pain, keeps me from ever seeing beyond it. that maybe I did not deserve it. that maybe I did not have to punish myself for it. I am punished for the love for my shame, that keeps me from ever feeling love towards myself.

@mothercain

#daughter of cain #ethel cain #mother cain #hayden anhedönia #preacher’s daughter #preachers daughter

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goodolddumbbanana · 4 months ago

Note

Even though you hit the nail right on the head about Puppet and her actions, I fear some people are more mad at EAPS Sun than they would be at her. I can sort of get it, but not really?

Yeah... I can totally understand. People usually hate characters who are annoyed more than the one who literally murdered and slaughtered tons of innocent victims. (*Cough*cough* Bloodmoon, Eclipse)

And not to offend, but with people like Puppet, they just love to see how she keeps Girl boss to win and being overpowering with anything, and they don't care whether her actions hurt anyone's feelings or not.

Sunrise is selfish for sure. And I would gladly see if Sunrise and Moondrop are working together to change these circumstances they are forced to be in. But like I say, god forbid if a Sun wants to be selfish without being criticized.

Not only Puppet and Eclipse force their way into fixing Sunrise and Moondrop (good for Moondrop I guess), they also belittled and well... Bullied Sun a lot. Like they respect Moondrop, but with Sun? They treated him like some spoiled hypocritical brat, for the things he couldn't control.

And I know alot of people think Sunrise is annoying and feels awful for Moondrop, but for me, it really feels like some kind of fanfic for Eclipse to be the protagonist on his way to heal himself and resolve and make friends with Moondrop, with Sunrise is the main antagonist.

They keep pushing the idea Sun is the bad one while he just tried to get some sense control for himself.

And don't forget he is really enthusiastic about the idea they are separated. Which means, if they have the patience to talk to Sun without letting their hatred, their annoying getting in their way, I am sure this Sunrise is willing to listen.

But NOOooo, they have to make Sunrise the bad guy. Because, you need to love people who hurt you. And it is wrong for you to not forgive them if they don't mean to do their harm for you or if it is just an accident.

Every action has consequences. Sure Moondrop doesn't want to be in Sun's head, and it really sucks for both of them, especially for Moondrop who couldn't get out. But he still hurts Sun, and he knows it too.

(And I don't blame him for feeling bitter, but still, this is his actions leading to the consequences. Sun still feels pain and any wrong Moondrop did could hurt Sun physically the most. We may feel mercy for a bear if it is dead. But if the bear killed your family, can you still forgive it, even if it doesn't know anything?)

So I am not blaming Sunrise for being selfish, because he is still freshly made, he didn't know better. Like when you touch fire and it burns your hand, you will never want to touch it again. Sun doesn't know who Moon is, and like Eclipse says, sure Sun has seen some of Moon's memories, but let's think really carefully about it. Moondrop still has Killcode, which means, he still killed kids, or invaders. So Sunrise must see it too.

Imagine you see some visions of your hands reapping someone's throat, not a pretty view.

And this really affects how the viewers see Our Sun. Because right now, literally, people justify how our Sun was treated before.

They keep saying Our Sun was so annoying, and poor Moon, and because Our Sun is refusing to share, leading Moon went crazy and made Sun's life a living hell.

Which is not true. Sun was freshly made like Sunrise too, but he tried to listen to Moon, and even after the attempt tortured of Moon, he still willingly gave Moon a chance to become brother, to be better.

It just... We finally have people's sympathy for Sun after so long, having them finally acknowledged that Sun was treated like shit.

But with this new dimension, everything turned back to round 1. Sun is a coward bullied meanie for Moon and we should feel happy to see him suffer.

#sun and moon show #tsams #the sun and moon show #sams #tsams sun #sams sun #the puppet and eclipse show #puppet and eclipse show

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darkreaderdan · 8 months ago

Text

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴄʀɪsᴛ 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒔

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

Okay so this is a post that I have been planning for a while now to be honest. Devil's Night Series as been a series that honest got me hooked on reading again and all the characters hold a special place in my heart especially Michael and Rika. I have bared witness to all the hate that Michael gets and as a person who like and can relate to him on some level it actually rub med wrong. I also find it crazy how Michael and Emory are literally the same character in different font but Michael gets a lot more hate. (𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔) But this is a Michael post so I will be sticking to just my analysis of him and maybe this can shed some light on his actions and have a discussion. Keep in mind this isn't me trying to justify the shit he does but instead explain his actions.

❦ So first I wanna touch on who Michael is as a person. We have seen throughout the series and especially in Corrupt that he is a for the most part a loyal person especially when it comes to his chosen family which at the start of the series was solely the other 3 horsemen. But let's go see where this stems from. Michael is considered to be the black sheep of his family despite being the eldest son. We have seen in flashbacks that his father has an unwavering hatred towards him ever since he was younger (a literal toddler), even though we never found out the reason why. I have a theory however, that Evan's hatred stem from the fact that Michael is similar to him when it comes to their stubborn mindset making him harder to manipulate and control compared to Trevor who is literally his father's dog. Now back to regular program... this dysfunctional dynamic in his family is what lead him to find companionship, brotherhood and trust in Kai, Will and Damon. They became his real family. He has proven time and time again that he would and will do anything to protect or even avenge them. He was always giving them advice and even cleaning up after them whenever they fuck up, which we know is a lot.🤣🤣 But nonetheless because of his pact and loyalty he will do all this even at a risk of hurting himself both physically and emotionally.

❦ During the events of Corrupt it is noted on several occasion that he is also extremely self destructive. This can be explained as a direct result of his upbringing. One of the things that I realize that alot of readers and fan of the series like to skip over is the extreme abuse that Michael suffered at the hands of his father. I get that as opposed to Damon and Emmy, it wasn't a main highlight in his novel so people tend to downplay it or outright ignores it. Michael was physically & mentally abused by his father simultaneously for years, from his childhood to when he was mid to late teen (he was 16 if i recall correctly). It was at this time that he finally fought back against Evan, with Rika being an unknowing witness to the event that lead to the stop of the physical abusing but the increased in the verbal and mental abuse. And where was his mom during all of this? Acting and being oblivious ofc. But we can see that he still; in present day Corrupt; is affected by his fathers words which reflects in his self loathing and believing he doesn't deserve to be happy or the love of anyone, especially not Rika. The Rika he loved and his world revolved around since he was 3. The same Rika that his dad as been grooming and basically training to be the perfect match/wife for Trevor. And he would rather continuing to live in emotional pain than accepting that someone can love him, that's why he was so hellbent on avenging his friends at the risk of burning the bridge with Rika in the process.

❦ I will be the first to admit that he is blunt, brutal and overall mean in his speech especially at times when he speak to Rika. Michael is not one to cut words and will things in the most brutal of ways especially when he is angry or hurting as I genuinely believe he is one of those 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 type person who believe that if they are hurting others should too. Though for some reason this doesn't extend to when it comes romantic feelings. Wit that let's focus on his interactions with Rika. Even from the first encounter we saw of the two of them we knew that they had history between them and that their relationship runs deep, this is something that is immediately confirmed. I think one of the biggest issues that the fandom have against Michael is that he is hard on Rika, which is true, but the thing is I think readers are so used to the MMC babying the FMC that the concept of hard love is so alien to them. I will say though some of the things he did say to her are beyond harsh and outright so fucking cruel, like calling her just a pussy or even this:

"𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔," 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔. "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢, 𝚁𝚒𝚔𝚊? 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝. 𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎." "𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔," 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢. "𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢. 𝙸𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛." 𝙸 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚢. "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸'𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚍? 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎? 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔! 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗-𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛-𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗-𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛-𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞�� 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛!"

❦ This was just uncall for, but it goes back to what I mentioned before of him believing that if he is hurt, everyone should also hurt, not an excuse but merely an explanation. And as harsh as he is some of his actions are from his perspective a way of teaching her to be stronger and fight her own battles and not wait on others to come to her rescue. He was the first to recognize her fire help her make it shine brighter:

"𝙾𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎. 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍? 𝙾𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞." -

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭-𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘒𝘢𝘪-𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨." - 𝘙𝘪𝘬𝘢.

❦ Another instance that I see people always judging him about is the events of Conclave which I find fucking ridiculous cause he literally reacted how any normal person would. For month Rika as been distant from him, all methods and efforts to try and get through to her as been futile, fast forward to that night on the ship, he walked in on his fiancé in the arms of his best friend finding comfort, when she has been brushing him off for months. Rightfully so both him and Banks were upset but everyone tend to only judge him. Come to find out that the woman he loves thinks so low of him, that he would leave her because of fertility issues and even confided in someone else. So yea him walking away from the situation was honestly a normal and natural reaction. Like he is allowed to feel and react like anyone in his shoes would. and I find it crazy how people love saying he doesn't care for, love or respect Rika when there is evidence proving otherwise.

𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒊𝒔 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅. 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓.

"𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔," 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔, "𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐. 𝑰'𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆. 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆." 𝑯𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔, 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚. "𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 ��𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓.

𝑾𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝑬𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒕. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔. 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓. 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝑰 𝒓𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆, 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕. "𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂. 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍. 𝑾𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆'𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓.

"𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒔, 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔, 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔."

❦ Like you can bring up that he didn't apologize to her and it is clear that this is one of people's biggest freeze moment but let's not forget that people have different ways for expressing themselves and in MichaelRika case, they have proven over and over again on multiple occasions that they prefer and believe in actions over words. Rika wanted Michael to show her that he is sorry to basically dedicate his life to her and guess what? He did just that.

❦ I could go on more but as this post turn out longer than I anticipated I will end it her on this note. Michael to me is the perfect representation of a complex character, he is a product of cause and effect and it shines through alot through the series. I wanna finish by saying that I am in no way shape or form defending his actions but simply highlighting and explaining them.

#michael crist #michaelrika #devils night #devils night corrupt #erika fane #devils night series #rika fane #michaelerika #penelope douglas

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