#someone take these characters away from me

[kirammanswifey]

arcane characters breaking up with you x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: gosh i loovee drama i'ts so spicy and fun! btw i cried a lot with ekko's... anyways request are open, darlings ;)

reconciliation link:

alternative sad final link:

Viktor

The laboratory was shrouded in a deep silence, the kind of silence that feels heavy, as if the air itself was dense, pressing down on your chest. The light from the screens flickered in the darkness, casting shadows that moved with the rhythm of the science Viktor had created. He was there, motionless in front of the table covered in blueprints, his head lowered, as if struggling with something he couldn’t share.

You stood there for a moment, watching him in silence, waiting for him to break the silence, but something in his posture told you he wouldn’t. The distance between you felt greater than you could bear, and the knot in your stomach grew heavier with each passing second. Finally, you couldn’t take it any longer.

“Viktor…” Your voice trembled, but you forced it to sound strong. Every word felt like a challenge to your own fear. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t look at you, but his shoulders tensed. The sigh that escaped his lips was full of something you couldn’t recognize. It wasn’t frustration, nor exhaustion. It was something worse, something you already feared.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he finally said, his voice low but clear. “I can’t stop now. This is bigger than us. I can’t lose what I’ve been building. The machine… the transformation… It’s the only way to save myself, to save us.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine. It couldn’t be. You were sure you must have misheard, but the words kept echoing in your head like a drumbeat. It wasn’t just about science. It wasn’t just his obsession. Viktor was pushing you away. And the pain, the pain was unbearable.

You stepped forward, your heart pounding in your throat. How could he do this to you?

“Is that all I am to you?” Your voice was a whisper, but the venom of desperation was there, cutting through your words. “An obstacle? Something you have to leave behind? All this time, everything I’ve done for you… And this is what I get?”

Finally, Viktor looked at you. But it wasn’t the look you expected. His eyes, so cold, so distant, weren’t the eyes of the person you had known. It wasn’t the Viktor you had protected, the one you had loved. It was someone else, someone who no longer saw in you what they once did.

“I do love you, you know?” he said, his voice broken, as if the words were becoming harder and harder to say. “I love you more than you can imagine, but this… this is bigger than us. This is the future, and I can’t risk losing it because… because of something as small as my own feelings.”

The words came out of his mouth as though they were the only thing left inside him. And you, standing there in front of him, felt the ground crumbling beneath your feet. The pain, the betrayal, cut through you like blades.

“And what about us, Viktor?” you said, unable to stop the mix of anger and sadness in your voice. “What about everything we’ve shared? Everything we’ve been through together? Doesn’t that mean anything? Nothing to you?”

He took a step back, each word he spoke a wall being built between you two. With each word, you felt smaller, more invisible. As if he had already made his choice.

“I can’t go on. I can’t be the person you need. If I stay… if I stay with you, all of this… everything I’ve built, everything I am, will crumble. I can’t be that person anymore.”

The pain overwhelmed you in an instant. A silent sob began to rise, but you didn’t let it escape. The knot in your throat tightened, but the words couldn’t come out anymore. You felt empty, as if the air you were breathing was the same air that had killed everything that once meant something to you.

“Then, goodbye, Viktor.” Your words were a broken whisper. “I can’t wait for you to choose between me and your obsessions. I won’t stay here, watching you lose yourself in something you don’t even know what it is.”

Viktor didn’t say anything more. There was no attempt to stop you, no plea, not even a look of regret. Just the sound of his breathing, shallow, as if something inside him was breaking too, but it was too late.

The door slammed shut behind you, the sound of the wood ringing in your ears. And Viktor, inside, remained alone with his experiments, his machines, and the man who had decided that everything else had to go.

Jinx

You approached her softly, as you always did, trying to calm her, trying to make her focus on you again. But you knew this wasn’t the same Jinx who used to laugh and be unpredictable. Something in her gaze told you she had gotten lost, that her thoughts were no longer hers, that the chaos in her mind had taken control.

Suddenly, Jinx stopped moving. She stood still, staring into the void, and everything around her grew quieter. Then, she began to murmur, as if speaking to herself, but her words weren’t clear. You grew concerned, stepping closer, but that was when her body reacted violently, out of control.

You didn’t understand what was happening until you felt the sting of a blow. You hadn’t seen it coming, but the pain hit you instantly. In that moment, fear took over, and your body trembled as you tried to comprehend the magnitude of what had just happened. Jinx looked at you, but her eyes weren’t focused on you. She was trapped, lost in a hallucination.

The voices started. “Kill her! She’s going to betray you, Jinx! Kill her before she leaves you!” The voice was cruel, disdainful, so cold. And then, another voice, softer but equally terrifying: “She hates you. She doesn’t want you, Jinx. Let her go before you do it again!”

You froze, watching the confusion in her eyes, the terror on her face. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t the Jinx you knew. She was caught in an internal struggle, a battle that you couldn’t fight for her.

You stepped closer to her, despite the blood dripping from your nose and your trembling hands. Jinx was crouched down, her eyes lost in an empty space, her hands covering her face as if she could hide the pain and chaos she had just caused. But you knew you couldn’t run from this. You couldn’t leave her now. Not after everything you’d been through together. And not after the promise you made to her.

“Sweets,” you whispered, so softly that you weren’t even sure she could hear you. “Please, look at me.”

Tears kept falling from her eyes, but she didn’t see you. Jinx didn’t see you. And the blow she had struck you moments ago seemed like a distant memory compared to what was happening now: the emptiness she was feeling. The war in her head.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” she whispered, her voice broken, shattered. “I didn’t want… I didn’t want to hurt you. I can’t… I can’t do it again. I… I hurt you.”

You knelt in front of her, searching for her eyes, feeling the knot in your throat. But she wouldn’t look at you. She was trapped. And you knew what that meant.

“Wake up, babe,” you said firmly, taking her hands. “I promised you. I won’t leave you. Not now, not ever.”

The voices in her mind began to rumble, like an overwhelming wave, growing louder, rougher. “She’s going to kill you! Kill her before it’s too late! It’s best for her! Do it now!”

“No… no,” Jinx said, covering her ears as if she could silence them. “No… I’ll hurt you… I don’t want to lose you! I swear I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m a monster!”

You stood up, forcing Jinx to look at you, taking her by the shoulders. “You’re not a monster. You’re not, Jinx. I promised you I wouldn’t leave you. I promised!”

But Jinx started sobbing, with a desperation so deep it hurt to see her like this. “You… you don’t understand. I’m the cause of all this. I’m the worst for you… It’s going to hurt so much if I stay close. You’re going to die! I’m the reason why you…”

“No!” you interrupted, gripping her hands tightly. “Don’t say that. I’m not leaving. I need you. You’re the only one who… who has understood me. Don’t leave me. I promised I’d be by your side.”

Jinx pulled away from you with a sigh, her face filled with guilt and desperation. “You deserve something better, something… more. You don’t have to stay. You don’t have to put up with my madness, you don’t have to stay for me.”

“I don’t want to be with anyone else!” you shouted, desperate. “You’re what I want. You’re what I’ve always wanted. Don’t leave me!”

But Jinx walked away, her steps wavering but firm. “I can’t… I don’t want to be the cause of your death, the cause of… the worst. You’ve given me everything, you’ve given me more than I deserve, but… you could be happy without me. I’m a burden, a curse. And… and I don’t want to lose you more. I don’t want to kill you.”

The voices in her mind grew more intense, more cruel: “Do it! Let her go, Jinx! She’s better off without you.”

“Wait!” you screamed, your eyes filled with tears. “You’re not a burden! I love you, Jinx, I love you! I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone, and I won’t leave you now!”

But Jinx’s words were clear, heartbreaking. “You… you’d be happy without me. I’m the reason for all the pain, for everything that’s made you suffer. And if I stay… I’ll hurt you, I’ll always do it.”

Jinx took a step back, her heart breaking inside, while you kept holding on to her. “I’m leaving. Because… because if I stay close, I’ll do the same thing as always. And you… don’t deserve that.”

“No,” you whispered, your voice broken but determined. “I need you. I need you, Jinx.”

But she was already so lost in her own mind that she couldn’t hear you.

She looked at you for a long moment, her eyes filled with guilt and sadness, and with a painful sigh, she turned away. “I’m sorry… I swear. I’m so sorry.” And in that instant, she left you behind.

Vi

When you enter the house, the sound of Vi limping towards you makes you take a step forward. You stay still, observing her wounds: a black eye, swollen lips, blood still dripping from a cut on her arm.

"Vi," you begin, anger taking over you, "You can't keep doing this! I can't see you like this! For a few damn coins? I can pay for everything you need, whatever you want, you don't have to do this!"

Vi shoots you a glaring look, her breath heavy from the effort, but her pride intact. "What do you know, huh? What the hell do you know about sacrifice? About fighting to survive, about having no other option but to fuck yourself over to get more than scraps?"

"You don't have to fight, Vi. You don't have to risk your life like this, for a few damn coins. I can give you whatever you want!" you shout, tears threatening to spill, the helplessness making your voice tremble. "I don't want you to hurt yourself for pride! I want you, and you're killing me seeing you like this!"

Vi takes a step back, her look as hard as stone. "I don't need anything from you! No money, no help! I can take care of myself, do you hear me? I'm not your damn fragile doll, I'm not your entertainment! I'm not your fucking fun."

"It's not that! It's not fun, I care about you, Vi! I can't stand seeing you destroy yourself over something so stupid!" Your breathing grows more ragged, your heart pounding hard in your chest. "I don't want you to keep destroying yourself for pride!"

Vi laughs bitterly, her tone cruel. "You think you're the only one who knows what it is to suffer? You think just because you're some princess from Piltover you can judge me for what I do, for what I am? You've never had to fight for anything in your life! You were born in a fucking silk bed, surrounded by luxuries, and you don't know what it's like to live in the shit, in the mud of Zaun."

The poison in her words hits you like a slap. "Why do you judge me like that when you know it's not true? I've told you, I want to help you, get you out of this shitty life that's consuming you."

Vi takes another step back, her eyes full of disdain. "And what, now you want to make me your project? Your experiment? A poor girl from Zaun who can throw her whole world away just so you can feel better about yourself? Is that what you want? To have a 'girl from the slums' story? I bet you'd get bored of me! Of me and what I am!"

Your words choke in your throat, the truth of her accusations ripping through the air between you. Vi keeps staring harshly, stepping back again. "I'm not what you need, and that's it. I don't want you to be my savior, I don't want to be your fucking project. I'm not going to stay here, waiting for you to cure me, to turn me into something I'm not."

"Vi..." you whisper, tears now falling uncontrollably from your face. "Why... why are you doing this to me?"

"Because we don't have to be together. If I stay with you, I'll just kill you too." Vi takes one last step back, and her voice softens, but not enough to stop the damage. "I don't want to be your fun anymore, I don't want to be your damn experiment. I want you to be happy, to live your life. Far from me."

The silence says it all. Vi turns around, and before you can say anything else, she leaves, leaving you alone in the cold space, with only your tears and her broken words remaining.

Caitlyn

The light in the cell is dim, the coldness of the place surrounds you as you stand there, completely in shock. The shackles on your wrists are a brutal reminder of what just happened. You can't believe it. Caitlyn, the woman who showed you love, the one you thought would never hurt you, has left you here, between these cold and dark walls.

The door creaks open, and there she is, Caitlyn. Her face, usually full of compassion and determination, is now empty, almost indifferent. You watch her approach, and for a moment, you hope she'll come to free you, that she'll tell you it was all a misunderstanding. But no.

"Why?" you manage to say, your voice broken with pain. "Cait... do you really think I could betray you?"

She doesn't answer immediately. She just looks at you with eyes full of conflict, her face serious, even cold. The tension in the air is palpable, and you can see the internal struggle in her. Finally, she sighs, and her words come out of her mouth like a sentence.

"I don't know," she replies coldly. "You're under suspicion now. I can't let you escape."

The weight of her words falls on you like a stone. Your heart stops for a moment, and a lump in your throat prevents you from speaking. You can't believe what you've just heard. The woman who swore to protect you, the one who shared your bed and your laughter, now accuses you of being a traitor.

"But... I just wanted to bring peace, Caitlyn," you whisper, feeling how despair is consuming you. "How can you think I would do something like that? I didn't want to hurt anyone. I just wanted..." The words break in your throat, and the anguish in your chest is unbearable. "Do you really think I'll be capable of lying to you and cause a revolution?"

Caitlyn closes her eyes for a moment, as if she’s searching for answers she can’t find. "I can't risk it, I can't let what you did go unanswered," she says, her voice harder now. "My duty is to Piltover, to justice. I can't be weak."

You step closer to her, hands outstretched, tears overflowing from your eyes. "Caitlyn, please, don't do this to me... I'm not the traitor you think I am. I love you. We promised we'll always have each other's back. Don't you remember that?"

She takes a step back, and her expression hardens even more. "I'm sorry," she says with a broken voice, but her eyes show no regret. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I can't let you remain free, not after everything you've put into doubt."

And before you can say anything else, Caitlyn turns her back to you, her footsteps moving away. "I'll keep you in the cell until everything is resolved," she says without turning. "But I can't trust you now."

The door slams shut with a metallic noise, and the sound of the locks clicking into place is all you hear. You fall to your knees, the anguish overtaking you. All you wanted was to be with her, to do the right thing, but now you're here, a prisoner of a justice you don't understand. The betrayal hurts, not because it was done to you, but because the person you love most has now turned their back on you.

Jayce

The conversation had started calmly, like all the others. But something had changed. The tension in the air grew as the words left your lips, and you could see the discomfort on Jayce's face.

"Jayce, enough," you say, your words full of frustration. "I know you want to do great things, but not at the cost of everything else. You can't keep sacrificing everything for your ambition."

He looks at you, surprise and annoyance mixing in his eyes. "I don't understand what you mean," he replies, his tone tense. "Do you think I'm doing this just for myself? I'm fighting for a better future for everyone."

"You don't see it, Jayce!" you shout, unable to contain the emotion choking you. "You've forgotten about the people who really matter to you. Everything you do is for power, for control, for your image. There's no place for me in your life, no space for what we are."

Jayce crosses his arms, his gaze harder than ever. "Is that what you think? That everything I do makes no sense? I'm trying to save Piltover, build something bigger than us. And what do you want? For me to give you more time to be by your side? For everything to revolve around you?"

The pain pierces your chest like a dagger. "It was never about that, Jayce," you say with a broken voice. "I always wanted to be by your side, support you in what you do. But I feel like a shadow. Like you can never see me, like my life, my dreams, everything I am, isn't enough."

He takes a step back, and the distance between the two of you seems to grow with every word that leaves his mouth. "You don't understand," he says coldly, his eyes now so distant. "What I do is bigger than anything I could offer you. If you can't understand that, if you can't meet me at my level, then maybe we're not what we thought we were."

"What are you saying?" you ask, feeling your heart flip. "Are you telling me that everything we've been doesn't matter? That I'm not enough for you?"

Jayce takes a deep breath, as if trying to calm his own thoughts before speaking. "It's not that. But I'm tired of you asking me to put you above everything I'm trying to build. If that means losing you, then..." his voice cracks for a second, but he recovers quickly. "Then it's what I have to do."

An emptiness opens in your stomach, and the world seems to crumble around you. "So you're leaving me. Just like that, as if I never meant anything to you." You look at him with disappointment.

Jayce lowers his gaze, avoiding your eyes, and his words hit like a blow. "I don't want you dragging me backward. You have to understand, I can't do this anymore."

Tears well up in your eyes, but you don't let them fall. "If that's what you want, Jayce, if that's what you really think is best for you, then goodbye. I hope you don't lose yourself on your way to perfection."

And in that moment, the words between you become empty. Jayce turns around, without even looking at you one more time, and walks away without saying another word. You stand there, in the middle of the place you once considered your refuge, while the echo of his indifference lingers in your ears.

Ekko

The house is silent, but the air is thick with tension. Ekko's gaze, which usually radiated passion and energy, now seems empty, lost in thoughts that don't include you. You watch him from the door, the knot in your throat preventing you from speaking.

"Ekko," you manage to say, your voice almost breaking, "I can't take it anymore."

He looks at you, seeming surprised, but he doesn't approach. The silence stretches between you two, as if you both know what's coming but neither of you wants to say it.

"What can't you take anymore?" his voice is low, as if he's too exhausted to argue. "What do you want me to do, huh? I'm doing what I have to do for Zaun, for everyone here. I can't just stop. I can't anymore."

"Can't stop? Are you really saying that?" Anger begins to take control, and helplessness mixes with pain. "Ekko, I've been watching you disappear more and more into your missions, your plans, everything that keeps you busy in Zaun. And I... what am I to you? A nuisance? A distraction?"

Ekko takes a step back, the exhaustion on his face becoming more evident. "It's not that, but..." He falls silent for a moment, as if words aren't enough to explain how he feels. "I can't keep living in two worlds, in two realities, and you know it. Zaun needs all of me, and you... you don't understand what that means. I can't be the Zaun guy and be your boyfriend at the same time."

"So, all of this was a mistake?" you ask, desperation about to drown you. "Everything we shared? Everything we built? Doesn't that matter? Does Zaun matter more?"

"Yes, sometimes it matters more," Ekko replies, his voice cold, but his gaze betrays him. "You... you're part of my life, I know. But I have to be objective and realistic, and no matter how much I love you, right now, you can't be a priority in my life. I can't be who you want me to be anymore. I can't be the guy who fights for you and for Zaun at the same time. I need to be one or the other, and Zaun needs me now."

"And I need you too," you say, the pain in your words, "but you don't see it anymore, do you? I'm not enough, I'm not what you need. I feel used and stupid," you said angrily, kicking a chair.

Ekko looks at you, his gaze wavering, as if there's an internal struggle he can't win. "Believe me, no one wants this to work more than I do, baby, but I... I'm not capable of giving you what you want, and neither are you to me."

The silence stretches into what feels like an eternity. You approach him, desperation overtaking you. "Ekko, please. Think about it one more time, we can't leave things like this. You've taught me to fight. Isn't it worth fighting for this?"

"Sometimes there are battles that aren't worth fighting because you know you'll never win them," he said, his words burning like acid in his throat. He kissed your forehead and stepped away from your personal space. "I'm sorry..." he murmured, and for a moment, he seemed tempted to hug you, but he didn't. "I'm sorry. But this is what's best for both of us."

The words destroy both of you.

Reality hits you like a bucket of cold water in the middle of winter. Everything you'd feared, everything you'd known deep in your heart, is happening. Ekko is pulling away, and even though you understand, you can't accept that the love you shared is no longer enough to keep him.

"Is this for real?" you ask, tears falling uncontrollably. "Is this what you're giving me? A cold goodbye because Zaun is more important than me?"

"Zaun needs a leader," Ekko replies, his voice broken but resolute. "And I need to be that leader. I can't be what you need, not now."

You stand there, feeling how the void between you grows larger, as Ekko turns and walks away, taking with him the last hope of what once was.

Silco

The rain hit the windows of Silco's office with force, the sound almost deafening as you leaned against the wall, breathing irregularly. You had been rescued again, once more on the brink of death, another attempt on your life, and once again, Silco was there to save you. But something in his gaze, cold, distant, made you fear the worst. You didn’t understand what was happening, but something had changed. Something in him.

“This is over,” he said after a long pause.

“What do you mean by that?” Your voice trembled.

Silco looked at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t read, something darker than the usual shadow he carried. He took a step toward you, but his presence was no longer comforting. His gaze remained fixed, as if he was deliberately pushing you away from him.

“It’s for the best,” his tone was low, almost hesitant, but the coldness in his words made you freeze. “I can't keep exposing you to this. You don't belong in this world. I can’t risk you anymore.”

“What are you saying?” Your words barely came out, drowned by the pain of his cold resolve. “Silco… you don’t have the right to decide for me. I choose to stay, I choose to remain here by your side.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he took another step back. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice deeper than ever. ���I don’t want to protect you anymore. You’re a burden, a burden I can’t carry any longer. I’m tired of you.”

The blow was like a stab to the chest. You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. “What? You’re tired of me?” Your words came out choked, unable to grasp the cruelty he had just expressed.

“The rumors are true,” he said with a harshness that froze the air between you both. “I’ve only seen you as a little distraction. A good pet. A weakness. Nothing more. I had fun, yes, but that’s over. I’ve found something better.”

“No… that can’t be…” you said, but when you saw the coldness in his eyes, something inside you shattered.

Silco didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on you, and for a moment, everything felt like a lie. Then, with a cruel indifference, he said, “You were never my equal. You were just a pastime, something I could have for myself. Something no one else could have. But you're replaceable. We all are.”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, struggling against the knot in your throat. “How can you say that?”

“I’m getting tired of repeating myself. I don’t want you in my life anymore. You’re no longer useful to me, you only bring me problems,” his voice was now firm, unyielding. “So go. I don’t need any more weaknesses in my life.”

The words were like a sentence. Everything you had ever felt for him, everything you had believed you shared, crumbled in that moment. There was nothing left. With your heart shattered, you took a deep breath and, without another word, turned away.

As you walked toward the door, the echo of your footsteps filled the empty office. Silco watched you, but did nothing to stop you. There was nothing left to say.

When the door closed behind you, silence filled the room. Silco stood there, in the darkness, his fists clenched, the pain in his chest stronger than any wound he had ever suffered before. For the first time in years, a single tear ran down his face. But no one saw it. He was alone, and that was all he deserved.

Mel

Mel's bedroom was silent, illuminated only by the faint light of the early morning hours. The bed, still messy, bore witness to a night of passion, but also to something much deeper that had been growing between the two of you. The sheets, tangled together, seemed to reflect the tension that now filled the space. The room, which had once been a warm refuge, was now soaked in a thick, suffocating atmosphere.

You sat on the edge of the bed, watching how Mel lay with her back to you, her face hidden in the pillow, breathing irregularly, as if she were still searching for something she couldn’t find. It wasn’t physical exhaustion that was affecting her, but something much deeper.

"Mel..." you said, your voice low but filled with an anguish you couldn’t control. “What’s happening between us?”

She didn’t move at first, as if she hadn’t heard you, but the weight of your words finally reached her. She turned over, and when her eyes met yours, something in her gaze made you fear the worst. It wasn’t the look of the woman you loved. It was something much more distant, something you couldn’t understand.

"I'm sorry... I can't keep doing this," she said, her voice, though soft, tinged with a hardness you couldn’t ignore. "I can't keep dragging you into this."

"What do you mean?" you asked, unable to comprehend what she had just said. "I won’t let you push me away. I won’t allow it."

Mel sighed and sat up, her eyes reflecting an exhaustion that seemed to surpass the physical. "It’s not about that... I don’t want to keep exposing you to all of this," she said, pressing her lips together with a determination that hurt. "I’m putting you in danger. It’s not fair to you."

"I don’t care," you replied, moving closer to her, your words heavy with desperation. "I don’t care what happens. All I want is to be with you."

But Mel didn’t give in, and instead of softening, her expression hardened even more. "You don’t understand, do you? I... I’m not enough for you. I can’t be what you need. I can’t keep being this, being... who I am."

"And what are you, Mel?" you asked, pain clear in your voice. "Ambessa’s daughter? The woman who lives under her shadow, trying to be someone she’ll never be? You’re not just that. You’re not. You’re... you’re the woman I want, the woman I love. But you keep running from it."

Mel, hearing your words, took a step back, as if an invisible force had pushed her away. The look in her eyes was painful, as if your words had struck her to the core. "You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to be Ambessa’s daughter," she said, her voice cracked with frustration. "You don’t know what it’s like to do everything for her, for her approval."

"No I don't," you replied, unable to hold back the heat of your own truth. "But what I know is what it’s like to try to be what others want. To try to please someone who’ll never see you for what you truly are. And still, you stay there, looking for something you can’t even define."

Mel fell silent, her face paling with each of your words, but you wouldn’t stop. Not after everything you’d tried. "I’m telling you, I don’t care what you do. I don’t care if you have to live under her shadow forever. I just want to be with you. But you... you can’t see that you’re losing what matters most. What you have left. What we could be."

"It’s just that I can’t... I can’t give it all up for you," she whispered, her gaze lost, almost disoriented. "I’m not enough for you. I can’t be."

"Why do you keep saying that?" you said, your voice breaking. "Why do you keep seeking her approval? You don’t have to be her perfect daughter, Mel. You have to be you. But you keep seeking her love, and you’ll never find it. It will never be enough for her. And as long as you stay there, you keep losing yourself."

She closed her eyes, as if your words pierced her, but she didn’t say anything more. The silence between you two became unbearable, and finally, Mel looked down, tears welling up in her eyes. "I’m telling you, I can’t keep going with you," she murmured, and this time it wasn’t a doubt, it was a statement.

You stayed there, frozen, unable to move a muscle. "What?" you whispered, unable to believe what she had just said.

"What I’m saying is that... I can’t keep being what you need. I can’t be happy like this. I can’t keep fighting for something I don’t have."

You couldn’t believe it, the words slipped from your mouth, but they didn’t find the right form to come out. "But, Mel, you don’t have to be what they want. You don’t have to live under her shadow. Why don’t you see it? I don’t want you for what you are to others, I want you for what you are to me."

Mel looked at you then, and for a moment, you thought everything could be resolved. But the look in her eyes wasn’t the same anymore. It was empty, sad, as if she had given up everything she once was. "I can’t stay here, I can’t keep doing this," she murmured, and with those words, she turned away, walking away from you.

Your heart shattered, but it wasn’t the pain that stopped you. It was the anguish of knowing that, despite everything you shared, she would never be able to leave that shadow, that need to please her mother.

And as she walked away, the words echoed in your mind over and over again: "I’ll never be enough. I’m not enough for her. I’m not enough for you."

Sevika

You find yourself with Sevika in her usual spot, where the world seems to stand still, surrounded by ruins and rubble. The atmosphere is thick with silence, but there's something in her eyes you can't ignore. There's tension in the air, as if a conflict is about to erupt.

"Sevika," you call, your heart racing. "We need to talk."

She turns toward you slowly, and her eyes seem colder than you've ever seen them. "I know," she replies, her voice deep and cutting. "I've been waiting for you."

You approach, but Sevika's gaze feels so distant, so detached from you. Something is wrong, and you know it. You can't stop the doubts from forming in your mind.

"Why have you been pulling away from me?" you ask, the knot in your throat growing tighter. "What's happening between us?"

Sevika crosses her arms, her posture more defiant than ever. "Don't you know? I told you, remember? I'm no good for you. I'm not what you need."

You furrow your brow, confused. "What are you talking about? I've never asked you to be anything else. I accept you as you are. I love you, Sevika."

She takes a step back, distancing herself from you, as if your closeness burns her. "That's what you don't understand. You think this is love, but what you're seeing isn't it. What you see in me is just an illusion. I'm just using you to get what I need: a little comfort, a distraction from the damn chaos of this city. But I don't want you to keep deceiving yourself. I'm not someone you can save, and I don't want you wasting your time with me."

Your words catch in your throat. "No... don't say that. I'm not deceiving myself, Sevika. I want to be by your side, through thick and thin. Why are you saying all of this?"

Sevika laughs, but it's not a laugh that gives you peace. It's cold, bitter, as if she's laughing at a cruel joke. "Because you're weak. And I don't want to drag you into this shitty world anymore. I don't want you to be another victim of what I am. And the worst part is, you don't even get it. You're a dreamer, an idealist, but there's no room for that here. There's no room for love in Zaun, there's only pain. And you won't be able to handle it."

"I don't want to leave you. I can't leave you," you respond, moving closer, but Sevika takes another step back, her face hardened by an internal battle. "I can't live with the thought of you pushing me away."

"Well, that's what's going to happen," she says, her voice so cold it echoes through the emptiness of the factory. "I'm leaving you because I can never be what you expect. I'll drag you into the darkness, I'll sink you even deeper than you already are. And that, that would ruin you. I have nothing left to offer you."

You're frozen, the pain piercing through your chest. "No... don't do this, Sevika. Please. Don't leave me alone."

"I left you the moment I accepted this damn world," Sevika says, and you can see a single tear silently roll down her face. "The only thing I offer you is more suffering, and that's the last thing I want for you. Forget me. And go, before I end up destroying you."

"No! I won't leave you!" you shout, but the desperation in your voice is futile. Sevika looks at you, but there's no warmth in her eyes anymore, only emptiness. "You're going to be happy without me. I'm not the person you need."

Before you can say anything else, Sevika turns around, walking toward the exit of the factory, leaving you alone in that dark, cold corner. The last image of her, her figure fading into the darkness, breaks you completely. You know that what she just told you isn't a lie, and that maybe, just maybe, she was right.

But what destroys you more is that you love her so much, and you can't bear the thought of losing her forever.

[hsavinien]

[ID: OP has included text excerpted from the linked article that reads:

"...observing classroom interactions. Our research represents thousands of encounters teens had with books they found most engaging: those that don’t shy away from the complexities of being human or the different ways of being human in a diverse society. And, yes, books that shared qualities with those being challenged or banned in unprecedented numbers. 

Here’s what we learned. The students, most of whom reported previously reading little or nothing, started reading like crazy—in and out of school—and their reading achievement improved. While this was the initial motivation for the teachers, it became the least interesting outcome. Students reported becoming better people, a change also noticed by their parents and peers. Reading engaging narratives about characters with complicated lives, they reported, helped them become more empathetic, less judgmental, more likely to seek multiple viewpoints, morally stronger, and happier. Yes, happier. They reported improved self-control, and building more and stronger friendships and family relationships. 

Central to these changes, they explained, were conversations about the books with peers, teachers, or family members—whoever they could recruit for different perspectives on provocative or confusing parts. They pestered others, including parents, to read the books. Parents reported welcoming opportunities for conversations, conveniently through book characters, about drugs, sex, relationships, and depression. The image of young people reading 'dangerous' books alone, in secret, and in distress, was neither what we observed nor what the students described. 

Initially, we too were cautious about some books until we learned how off-base adults can be in their hypotheses about what young adults take away from them. Students described characters’ questionable decisions as cautionary tales, not narratives to live into, a concept they found laughable, plausible only to someone who hadn’t read the book. The books helped them to see the consequences of problematic decisions and language. Because they all brought different experiences and purposes to their reading, the conversations were constantly lively, meaningful, even philosophical, and relationship-building. The..." {excerpt ends} The reblog that follows is the Simpson's bus driver "Don't make me tap the sign" meme. The sign has been edited to read:

"You cannot know what people are taking away from the text and it is not your responsibility (or your right) to control how people engage with media" /id]

[icecream4starscream]

Spoiler Warning for Transformers One. Please go see the film, it's great.

Something occurred to me when rewatching Elita-1's firing scene:

Right off the bat, she's presented as an absolute unit in the mines. We see her being a very by-the-book character. She's incredibly competent, strong, serious, focused, and an effective leader.

Maybe a little too effective.

We learn that Sentinel goes out of his way to personally take care of any "anomalies" in his system and does so in a way where the blame always gets shifted away from him.

It's why he personally went to see Pax and D-16 after the Iacon 5000 race. He makes himself out to be the open-minded, compassionate leader he's been parading as.

When Darkwing throws Orion and D-16 into sub-level 50, neither bot suspects Sentinel for their demotion. In fact, they beg Darkwing to talk to Sentinel so he can sort out the "misunderstanding".

It's later confirmed that Sentinel never had any intention of talking with Orion or D-16 after their first meeting. When Orion reunites with his fellow miners later in the film, they mention that Sentinel put out a statement saying that they both died from "racing injuries".

Sentinel might've not even openly ordered Darkwing to dispose of them. Darkwing might've been manipulated into thinking everyone was mocking him for losing the race (thanks to lowly miners) making him want to get rid of them.

Subconsciously manipulating someone like Darkwing would've been easy for Sentinel.

Sentinel clearly does not tolerate anyone rising above the station he imposes on them.

So what does this have to do with Elita-1 being fired?

We see her rigidly following the rules, meeting all quotas, running a tight and efficient crew. She's doing her job as a miner, a role unknowingly forced upon her by Sentinel, perfectly.

Shouldn't Sentinel be happy about that?

Well sure...

If Elita wasn't actively trying to get promoted.

We don't get a lot of information about how promotion works in TFOne's mining system, but we do know that in other iterations of pre-war Cybertron, one of the only ways miners could rise out of the mines was by participating in ridiculously difficult gladiatorial fights in Kaon's pits.

In other iterations, this was how D-16/Megatron was able to escape his station and how he grew to be so strong.

So basically, whatever version you look at, the miners are told "if you work really, reeeeally hard, and do your job perfectly, and don't die in the process (which, odds are, you will) you might, MIGHT get a chance to get out of the caste you were born into."

It's BS.

It's an impossible feat. No one is actually supposed to be able to achieve that goal, but it's the metaphorical carrot dangling in front of the work mules so they don't notice the ever-tightening rope around their necks.

But every so often there's someone extraordinary, like Elita, who actually manages to meet this impossible standard and with whom it becomes increasingly difficult to deny this coveted promotion.

So what can Sentinel do about bots like Elita-1?

Simple.

Wait for a screw-up.

It must happen eventually.

A member of Elita's team, Orion Pax, in clear violation of evacuation protocol, goes back into the mines to save Jazz from getting crushed to death.

Despite managing to escape, the closing mine causes a tunnel support to be flung into nearby machinery (which doesn't look critical and could probably be easily fixed).

Then, right the heck outta nowhere, Darkwing drops in, SECONDS AFTER THE INCIDENT JUST HAPPENED, and immediately fires Elita.

No "What happened?" or "Who's responsible?" or "The supervisor wants to see you", he just pops into the scene and demotes Elita, arguably one of the best workers in the mine, to a bottom-tier waste management position.

As if he'd been on standby, actively waiting for a reason to fire her.

"But Elita herself wasn't the one who screwed up!"

Doesn't matter.

"But she told them to follow protocol!"

Doesn't matter.

"But Orion admitted he was the one at fault!"

Doesn't matter.

"But a bot was saved! Jazz would've died!"

Does. Not. MATTER.

Her firing is presented as the typical "one character says thing won't happen then thing immediately happens" joke, but given how so much thought went into so much of TFOne's background details, I can't help but wonder if this was a hint to how broken the system was and how it was always rigged in a way that ensures the miners will never get out.

Not to mention, once Orion, D-16, and Jazz safely escape, she chews Orion out by saying, "If I get fired for this..." meaning this abrupt, out-of-nowhere, baseless firing is absolutely typical.

That's what makes Elita's "I'm better than you" speech to Orion that much more meaningful, because in many ways, she is better than him.

She's a better worker, better fighter, better at completing the task at hand, better at making sure things run smoothly. She is, ironically enough, an efficient and perfectly-running machine.

But had Orion not dragged Elita to the surface, she probably would've spent her whole life obediently following the rules, never questioning why things were the way they were. She was so focused on rising up within the system that she could never look beyond it.

Elita might be the cog by which other cogs turn.

But Orion is the spark that shows them a better way.

That's why he was given the Matrix.

[cybrasigilism]

Can you do nsfw alphabet w nam-gyu? 🤭

NSFW ALPHABET with Player 124 (Nam-gyu)

warning: smut and all things of the like, the usual | not proofread | lowercase intended | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differs from your own

character: nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: since i have another nam-gyu request lined up and cooking in my drafts i figured this would be a great way to get comfy in writing for him. it’s nice to see some player 124 fans up in the fandom especially since he shouldn’t be getting hate for the same shit thanos was also doing (yes i know he did kill se-mi and he did lose some credit with me for that, but i fear i saw that one coming a mile away). also, THANK YOU GUYS FOR 100 FOLLOWERS? i’m genuinely blown away by the sheer amount of support y’all have given me and I’m eternally grateful :’)

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

══════════════════

A= Aftercare what they’re like after sex

↳ based on how clingy he is with his friends? yeah, he’s gonna be down for a cuddle post-sex. if it’s a one and done thing though, don’t expect much in the regards of after care. at most he might offer you a smoke but he’s only super affectionate if you guys are in a relationship

B= Body part their favourite body part of theirs + their partners

↳ his and your favourite part of his body is his hands, without a doubt. his favourite part of his partner? hands down we’ve got ourselves another ass man, and who’s surprised?

C= Cum anything to do with cum, really

↳ bites his lip when he gets close (just gonna put this here and run off)

D= Dirty Secret a dirty secret of theirs

↳ really, and i mean really, loves how you look with his hands around your neck

E= Experience how experienced are they? do they know what their doing, etc.

↳ i get the impression that he’s fairly experienced, and he does know what he’s doing in the regards of rougher sex. however he does need guidance when it comes to more intimate, gentler sex

F= Favourite Position this one speaks for itself

↳ any position where you’re riding him is his favourite. he loves being able to feel you up and take as much control as he feels like, while still letting you do most of the work.

G= Goofy are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous, etc.

↳ regardless of whether he’s on top or not, he will be mocking you. it’s all out of love of course, but sometimes that can be called into question

I= Intimate how are they in the moment, the romantic aspect?

↳ it really takes a while for him to warm up to gentler fucking, especially since he’s so used to rough + sloppy one night stands. it’s always jarring to see him get vulnerable with you though

J= Jack off masturbation headcanons

↳ talks you through touching yourself OH MY GOD THIS DAMN WIND AGAIN SOMEONE SHUT THE WINDOWS-

L= Location their favourite place to do the do

↳ semi-public sex turns him on, need i say more?

M= Motivation what turns them on, gets them going?

↳ total cliche, but seeing you in revealing outfits totally gets him aroused. if you’re wearing something that hugs your ass just right, yeah you won’t be wearing it for much longer

N= No something they won’t do

↳ i don’t feel like there’s a lot this guy wouldn’t do, but if anything it’s probably pegging

O= Oral their preference on giving or receiving oral, how skilled are they, etc.

↳ couldn’t care less if he’s eating you out or if you’re sucking his dick, he’s always down for oral sex. hell, he’s probably into doing 69 but that’s for him to know, and for you to find out

P= Pace are they fast + rough? slow + sensual? etc.

↳ he’s typically going to be pretty rough, he’ll be gentle somewhat at the start if you specify that you’re a virgin but trust that the gentle act will cease quite soon into the fucking™️

Q= Quickie their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

↳ he absolutely loves quickies, there’s something about that adrenaline kick that he can’t get enough of

R= Risk are they game to experiment? how do they feel about risk?

↳ if any one of the squid game characters is down to experiment with risk, it’s nam-gyu. if he’s willing to take crazy unknown drugs from thanos in the games, he’s willing to experiment in bed

S= Stamina how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last? etc.

↳ is it the drugs? is it his experience? god knows. but whatever it is, his stamina is pretty crazy. he will usually outlast you in the matter of rounds, but that might also be because of how thankless he is on your pussy

T= Toys do they own any toys? do they use them on themselves or their partner?

↳ i’m not sure he’d be the kind of guy to own crazy toys, definitely owns a couple fleshlights, and he will use vibrators on you if you bring them

U= Unfair how much they like to tease/be teased

↳ lets not kid ourselves here. he is the king of mean teasing, he’ll tease you the whole time if he feels like you deserve it

V= Volume how loud they are, what sounds they make etc.

↳ definitely not much of a moaner, more so grunts and what have you especially if he’s in control. he’ll call you his “personal fucktoy”. something i could totally see him saying while he’s fucking you is “fuck, ‘so tight for me. nice to see what a pathetic little slut you are.”

W= Wildcard a random headcanon for the character

↳ really good with his hands. he will tease your clit if he’s able

X= X-ray what’s going on under those clothes?

↳ is he super jacked? no. does he have a fair amount of muscle on him? yes absolutely. for size, he’s easily 6” hard

Y= Yearning how high is their sex drive?

↳ his sex drive is almost concerning. point blank

Z= Zzz how fast they fall asleep after

↳ don’t expect him to wait up for you. if he’s super worn out he’s heading off to snooze-ville before you do

══════════════════

thanks for the request! i’ve been meaning to write for nam-gyu especially since he does not get enough recognition in the fandom :)

as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a gorgeous day all 💋

tags: @gabbystinks

[456-is-the-way]

haiii so i was wondering if i could request a fic abt reader x frontman cs ive had this idea for s while now i just cant write it😓😓

so the idea is reader is a daughter of one of the vips and one day reader's father decideds to fund the game by marrying her to frontman if that make sense?? or reader's father made some sort of deal with ilnam (up to you) , and reader is just totally against it at first bcs she thinks the games are cruel but once she spends more time around inho she warms up more and grows to really him and he also warms up to her😣😣🙏🙏 (so its like an arranged marriage, enemies to lovers type shi🤞🤞)

A/n: I LOVE ALL BLOWING UP MY ASK BOX!!! FIRST OFF I LOVE THIS IDEA. So imma write it lmao as stated before I am taking requests in my ask box first! So here is another one. Please let me know if you want to ask for a character from season 1 or 2! NGL needs more Gi-hun requests yall lol!

Trigger warning: N/A

Squid Game Masterlist

In-ho x Reader

The Arrangement

It was no secret to (Y/n) (L/n) of her father's wicked deeds. Since birth, she knew they were in one of the most elite families who not only watched what they called the ‘Squid Game’ but actively held their version of the games. It was a horrid curse (Y/n) from which she could not escape. For many years her father hosted, sponsored, and even made active bets in several games held worldwide. But none of those topped the Korean games is what her father stated for several years. She even had the chance to meet the original creator of the games, an older man named Il-nam. After all the gambling, (Y/n)’s father made one of the most unbelievable bets with the old man. He decided to place the ultimate wager on player 456: his daughter could marry anyone of Il-mans choice.

(Y/n) sat in the room with the other VIPs and her father as the final battle commenced between players 456 and 218. She closed her eyes not able to watch this. (Y/n) understood the tense feelings between the players as she was forced to watch the entire game season unfold. She could not imagine what they both felt, best friends turned against each other. She took a deep breath as her father made her watch. Despite her fate, she honestly hoped 456 won. It almost disgusted (Y/n) how her inner thoughts had rooted for the players. She had favorites just like the VIPS. At the end of the battle the underdog, Gi-hun prevailed.

It was the same day Il-man and her father introduced her to the special man she would be wedded to. “Meet the most important man here. Someone I entrust everything to. You may remove your mask.” Il-man said. (Y/n) had met The Front Man several times before. He had been very attentive to the VIPs but it was obvious (Y/n) had his personal attention. She never thought anything of it because most people gave her special treatment. Once the mask is removed her eyes widen, who knew the man was at least somewhat attractive man.

“I am In-ho. It a pleasure to be marrying you, Ms (Y/n).” He bows.

_1 year later_

The wedding took place only a year after the deal. It was held privately and only the most important officials and elite families were invited. Everything was from the top chefs Korean had to offer, she was respectful of In-ho’s culture and insisted on having a traditional Korean wedding. After the ceremony, they were sent to the luxury oceanfront hotel. She leaned against, In-ho as they were sitting on the balcony. “In-ho, why do you run these horrible games?” Her question was answered with silence unsure of how to answer (Y/n)’s question In-ho turned away. He still was not very open to (Y/n) but he did find her gorgeous and knew it wasnt her choice to partake in the wagers her father deals.

“It was complicated but I know you are stuck with an old man like me so I guess I will tell you. I had been a player in the games before. Back when my wife had been in the hospital. I had been the last one standing. It didn’t matter I was too late. She and my unborn child died… So I took the old man's offer to take this over. He needed someone to inherit the games. Including for me to have… children. He planned I would pass this down. I plan to do that. He was like a father to me and I only wish to make him happy.”

(Y/n) put a hand on In-ho’s chest. She gently cupped his face. “I am sorry In-ho. I promise to be a good wife to you… I couldn’t imagine what you are going through. Come on let's go inside.” (Y/n) kissed him deeply. In-ho eagerly accepted the kiss picking her up. It was no lie he liked the woman and Il-man knew In-ho would need someone like (Y/n) to make him stable.

She honestly felt bad for the man who was forced to particapte in these games only to still lose everything he had. “I know you I think you are very attractive for an ‘old man’. None of this is your fault … I won’t leave you,” She promised combing back his dark brown hair. Perhaps this would be so bad after all.

[jun-was-taken]

There's no gaming experience that's been able to match it. It's one of those rare experiences where it just so thoroughly hits your resonate frequency your brain starts vibrating.

The game's systems and story are so singular in their theme and thesis. Everything you do reinforces the idea that human connection can overcome even the most fucked up dire situations.

One of the mechanics in this game is you can setup bits of infrastructure that people can see and use in their own worlds. You'll see a conveniently placed ladder here, a perfect save-your-ass-I-don't-have-shit-on-me rope there. Someone was looking out for you. You sauce them as many likes as you can. While you're helping the characters in-universe, you're also the guardian angels for other porters that are literally following in your footsteps.

It starts off small. You pack an extra ladder when you know you don't really need it, just so you can go off the beaten track and bridge a gap. Just for the simple pleasure of maybe it'll help someone. Oh man, that cliff was a real pain in the ass to go around. I'm ganna go back and put the rope I wish was there. The next thing you know, you're loading up your truck with literal tons of raw materials to complete out sections of highway.

You've cleared out everyone's stash of metals and ceramics. You stuff your truck, all 28 XL containers of assorted raw materials, beautifully stacked in the back. You're cruising down the freshly paved highway you just helped create. You have a podcast on and you're swerving spooky ghost creatures. One section done. Then two. Then three. The truck bed is lookin a lot lighter. You get to the last section of highway you planned to finish for that route. Time to cash in those last few containers. It'll be a job well done, clean op, time to dust your hands off. You did the math wrong. Ahh shit. You eye the last few containers rolling around in the back. You look around and spot an old rusted bridge. It's well traveled and loved, but it's seen better days. It's a good distance away but you could repair it with what you have in the back. Your truck is rusted and sparking from all the timefall. But the old girl has no quit in her. She'll always take you to where you need to go. You give that bridge a new lease on life, ready for the next set of muddy boots. Then you head back to the DC, planning your next route all the way to do it all over again. But first, a much needed break for the truck and for Sam.

This game is full little stories like this. I've setup a zipline network which involves braving the sketchiest parts of the world. Fighting through literal nightmare hell zones just to set it up. I booted up the game a few months later. I came back to see that multiple porters not only braved the same hell zone, but they schlepped their own materials to not only make sure it didn't rust away, but even upgraded. They had tons strapped to their backs, fighting like hell just so that the safe passage remains open. It makes my heart swell even as I type this out.

Every playthrough will be unique and deeply personal. Acts of service is the love language that ties every porter together. A simple thumbs up means everything. While I get that it's not a game everyone will enjoy, if anything that I wrote interests you, I hope that you give it a try. It's very special to me.

I highly recommend playing Death Stranding if you got a system to play it on

it’s set in this post apocalyptic world where everyone turns into a nuclear explosion ghost after death and the rain makes you and everything else old and for 30-40 years no one’s been able to do anything to combat it except bunker down underground and incinerate the dead. People are isolated because, wouldn’t you be if your neighbour dying meant your city turned into a crater?

but in spite of this all there’s hope that we can connect people again. The NPCs are relentlessly optimistic that we can manage the explosion ghosts if we work together. So much of it is just, building up small contributions and having them pile up and before you know it, you got something big going on. You’re the big damn hero (a guy with insane core strength who doesn’t die) tackling the (literally) heavy stuff but the NPCs are all eager to contribute whatever they can. Here’s some custom boots. A protoype engine. A non-lethal ranged weapon. A place to stay. A bridge to cross a river. A parcel of materials to build with. A generator just as your truck battery is dying. A good luck charm. A remote operated surgical table. A sign that says Keep On Keeping On.

I think it’s important to remember that the small stuff matters. It helped me a lot during the pandemic. The world is heavy and not everyone can lift 100kg, but we can all do something even if it’s just some words to remind people we’re in it together.

Also, Trump canonically died in a ghost explosion and was utterly annihilated down to the atoms.

[obxsummer]

mess // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: groff gets grounded, sarah's wifey material, and a statue apparently holds the blue crown, which means someone's climbing to get it.

warnings: usual obx angst

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

--

Morocco was proving to stay a challenge to you all, especially when the vehicle’s motor blew up on Cleo and the poor girl was stuck attempting to fix it. In the meantime, Pope was observing the items John B and Sarah had managed to pull from Terrance’s boat in their quick mission. 

While JJ attempted to help Cleo get the truck started again, John B and Sarah were browsing at nearby booths. This left you and Kie to take the time to chill out and just observe the people around you. 

What your fiancé had begrudgingly revealed to you, was he pickpocketed the gun the mercenary had dropped and it was now tucked in his waistband, clearly visible against the light colored fabric. You had rolled your eyes, but didn’t bother to argue with him. You were all unarmed, in his defense, so it wouldn’t hurt to have some way to fight back.

“John B, I’m tired of driving. Take the wheel.” Cleo waved dismissively as she climbed into a seat next to Sarah, allowing your brother and Pope to take the front.. 

The next location, Agapenta, was supposedly where you’d find some answers. The drive would take a while, a lovely 60 miles of hopefully peace and quiet. JJ happily accepted the empty time, letting you rest against his shoulder as the wind whipped around you all. The ride was as smooth as John B could make it, the road proving itself bumpty and full of twists and turns. 

Eventually, pavement turned into dirt and Pope was pointing out a nearby well to refill water bottles and take a break to stretch. You groaned as the vehicle came to a stop and climbed out, your legs sore from sitting so scrunched together for the time being. 

“Pope, I really hope you’re right about this well,” John B said as he rolled his neck, a popping sound following the movement and he sighed. 

JJ reached up to help you climb down, the dirt hard and dry beneath your feet. You opened your backpack, shuffling through the mess to grab the empty water bottles you’d brought from Poguelandia to pair with the larger ones they’d bought at the market. 

“How does this thing even work?” You asked Pope as you walked toward the well with the various bottles in your arms. “Like is there a pump or-”

“Hello!”

Pope grabbed your arm to pull you back from approaching the stones. The shouting continued in a language you couldn’t quite recognize before you all decided to look down the well at the same time. 

“I guess we found Groff, huh?”

Bile burned your throat as you took a step back from the dark pit in the ground. JJ was standing a few feet away with a tan back in his hands, the contents inside likely belonging to the man stuck at the bottom of the well.

You wondered how he didn’t die from the fall, silently pissed that outside forces couldn’t have just ended this nightmare on your behalf. Because now, there was a decision to make that ultimately landed in JJ’s hands.

JJ gently squeezed your shoulder as he approached the well, a silent communication that he could do it. He looked utterly pissed and disappointed with the realization that he was really the only one to handle the situation, but leaned over the edge to address Groff.

“JJ, is that you?” The voice echoed back.

JJ sighed and looked straight ahead, completely dismissing the man in the well. “What happened?”

“I’m trapped down here because of that… Rafe.”

You snorted, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth to keep your laughter in as Sarah nearly broke her character next to you with a laugh. Leave it to Rafe to shove Groff in a literal well. 

“But now, my boy, my beautiful boy, is here to rescue me.”

That one got a full giggle out of Kiara, and JJ looked at all of you with an unamused look. Annoyance was winning its course here, and really, now you wanted to leave.

“What happened to the scroll?” JJ asked as he played with the flask of water in his hands. 

“Rafe! He took it and he tried to kill me, but I know where it is. I know how to get it back. We’ll go. We’ll go together, just… just throw me the rope!”

The blond boy stepped back from the view of the well, which evidently scared Groff enough that he started yelling again. You stepped away from Sarah and Kie to grab his arm, scanning his face for any hint of how he was feeling.

“You okay?”

To your surprise, JJ’s eyes were full of tears when he looked back at you and he looked angry. “He almost killed you. And now he’s sitting here asking me to help him?” 

The broken whisper felt like a punch to the chest and your fingers unconsciously brushed over where the bruises rested on your skin. You’d support JJ through a lot of rights and wrongs, but this had to be the hardest one. 

You’d come to hate very few people in your life, but Groff was the quickest one to reach that status. He was cruel. There were very few people that were wicked in that way, deep to their core, but he was a perfect example of one. Heartless, even.

JJ sighed, drying away stray tears with the back of his hand. You let your hand coast up his arm to rest on his neck, gently brushing the skin of his cheek with your thumb. “It’s okay. It’s your call.”

He shook his head harshly and stepped out of your grasp to approach the well again as Groff yelled out for him to toss the rope down. JJ picked up the twine with consideration and your heart felt like it was in your throat. 

“JJ, I need you to throw me the rope!”

“Why?” JJ countered as he stared at the object intently. “Why should I do that when you tried to kill not only me, but someone you knew meant the world to me? To us.”

There was a pause before the answer. “I snapped. Sorry.”

John B let out a loud laugh at that one, his head falling back against the seat of the truck before his hand rubbed at his face in disbelief.

“Just get me out of here, JJ, and we will get the crown. Together, just like we planned.”

“You gave me away. You gave me away because you don’t want me. You don’t want a son. Now you come back into my life acting like you had to do that.” 

“No of course not. You’re my boy, I love you.”

JJ reached back with an open palm and you took it wordlessly, making sure to stay out of Groff’s view but close enough that JJ knew you were right behind him. “No.. don’t, don’t say that. You don’t know what that means. You don’t even know me. You never were my father. You never even tried.”

“I’m a weak man, JJ. You wouldn’t kill me for that, would you? That’s not you. You’re better than me.”

JJ scoffed and shook his head before holding the rope out to you, which you took albeit confused. You watched as he untied it from the post next to the well, leaving it disconnected from any anchor point. “Being better than you really isn’t that hard. Bye, Dad.”

Without sparing a glance, JJ took a step back from the well to walk away and you stood there as Groff started yelling in protest for him to come back. You glanced back to make sure he was okay, Pope taking the time to hug him tightly, before you made your own decision.

Peeking over the edge of the well, you could barely make out Groff’s figure at the bottom and his voice was suddenly much louder until he stopped at the sight of you.

“Remember me? Daughter you never had but always wanted?” You asked, a teasing smirk making its way to your lips. Pulling the rope closer, you let it fall from your fingers and watched the saving grace hit the ground with a loud smack as Groff winced. 

With a look of disappointment, you sighed to yourself, “You made your bed, now you can lie in it too.”

--

“Careful, we don’t know what we’re walking into.” John B was tense and on guard as he led the group from the car when the path came to an end. Desert stretched out in front of you all, save for a few bare plants that shifted with the wind.

As you all approached the walled entrance to Agapenta, Rafe’s voice carried across the open land. 

“Okay, just take it easy, okay?” The stress in his tone was obvious enough that JJ was pushing against your shoulder to keep you out of view as they surveyed whatever was going on ahead. 

Peeking through the brush, you made out Rafe’s figure with the map dangling from one hand and the lens from the other. His back was toward you all as he spoke with whoever was threatening him as he held his arms in the air. There was just enough room over the makeshift wall that you could make out the mercenary group with their vehicles and weapons.

“They’re gonna kill him,” Cleo mumbled as a few armed mercenaries started approaching Rafe.

Kie scoffed, “Do we care?”

“Yeah, that’s a good question, Pope. Then they’d take the scroll.”

You glanced over at Sarah, the girl obviously torn between the words being said and the fact that Rafe was her brother. He was trying, she could tell, and at this point, that meant enough to her. 

“There are seven of them, they all have rifles.”

JJ’s hand fell from your shoulders. “I know. That’s why we’re gonna need to think outside the box.”

He moved to grab the gun from his waist, checking the bullets in the chamber before loading it. You swallowed thickly, knowing anything that involved JJ and a weapon didn’t tend to go well. 

“Hey.” You grabbed his arm to hold him still for a moment. “This isn’t Call of Duty, okay? We can’t rush into action right now without thinking this through a little.”

Sarah had evidently thought it through enough and grabbed the gun from JJ’s hand to steady in her own grip, the group falling silent as she did so. “That’s my brother.”

The shot rang out, perfectly nailing the fuel tank on one of the mercenary vehicles to cause an explosion. You stared, amazed, before looking at the girl next to you. “Sarah gets the gun from here on out.”

Rafe took off running as more gunshots started to follow and you decided it was probably a good idea to get away from here. Dust kicked up around everyone as you ran, shouts to go faster or change direction coming like rapid fire. 

The sunshine was so warm against your skin and dust coated your throat as you all came up upon the gates with barely enough time to slip through before Pope and JJ slammed the door shut just in time for gunshots to bust through the wood.

“We gotta move,” Kie called out as the boys barricaded the door as best as possible. Somewhere in the chaos, Rafe had managed to land here as well and brought up the rear as the group went running again. 

“Oh shit!” You yelped as a group of sheep were suddenly in the path. They were just as freaked out as you and took off running, giving you enough time to take a deep breath before JJ was grabbing your arm and pulling you to keep moving. 

An almost stumble in his step told you his side was getting irritated from the constant movement and you shifted to push him ahead of you, your hand pressed into his back to keep him going. You came up on a tunnel, Pope and Cleo coming to a stop as the yelling got closer to your location. 

“What are you doing?” JJ slowed to look at the couple, the gun now in Cleo’s hands as John B, Sarah, Kie, and Rafe kept moving.

“We got it, we’ll hold them off,” Pope explained, his hand falling on your back to continue moving you and JJ along. JJ hesitated, hating the idea of splitting up but Pope had already made up his mind. “Hey, let me protect you for once, okay? You’re not the only one who shot teddy bears.”

Cleo gave you a stern look and nudged you in the direction. You gave her an uncertain smile, squeezing her arm in encouragement before you grabbed JJ’s hand in yours and pulled him with you. “Be safe!”

“We’ll be so safe!” Pope called back as they disappeared from view. 

Your chest was heaving, sweat pouring across your skin as the tunnels and stairs weaved their way through the town. Before long, you guys managed to catch up to the others where Rafe so lovingly had John B at knifepoint. 

“What the hell is going on?” You gasped, your hand pressing against your chest where it hurt to breathe as Kiara put her focus on JJ’s now bleeding side. You slid your backpack off, handing it to her wordlessly as she began to sort through the first aid supplied lying within. 

“Rafe, I just saved your life!”

The elder Cameron sibling turned toward her, the knife following as he disagreed. “No, no, no, no, no. You did it so you could steal it from me. There was something in it for you. Not to actually help me, I know that.”

“Rafe, we don’t have time.”

“We can read that, you can’t,” Sarah argued back, completely unphased by the way he was shaking in front of her.

“Why would I help you? I don’t trust you. I don’t trust any of you, do you understand?” He panted, scanning the room where you all had him basically surrounded. He focused back on Sarah, taking a step closer. “Dad trusted you. You remember what happened to him? Remember?!”

You flinched as he yelled, taking a step back in shock as Sarah pushed Rafe away from her. 

“Dad died saving my life,” She shouted before taking a second to breathe. “And you’re so eager to blame me for everything, you won’t even listen to what happened. Singh’s men had me at gunpoint. I was gonna die. Dad took those bullets for me. And if he was still around, he’d want us to work together. I know you know that.”

Rafe’s angry exterior was dropping with each word and as Sarah’s face crumbled with the recount, he was slowly beginning to think he had it all wrong. Shaking his head, his defensive stance disappeared. “No, you’re just going to screw me like everyone else in my life. I know you will.”

“No, no, because I’m all you’ve got,” Sarah reminded him, her voice thick with tears. “And you’re the only family I have left.”

The two siblings stared at each other for a moment, shaking breaths coming from each of them as they spoke through the things that had been left unsaid for almost two years now. You’d never seen Rafe like this, so broken and confused by what he was hearing. 

For so long, Ward had such a deathly grip on Sarah and Rafe both. Rafe had received the brunt of the pressure, as the eldest child and male of the family, Ward used him instead of growing him in a way that a parent should. 

“Alright, if we…uh, if we work together, I still get my cut. So-”

Sarah pushed the scroll aside and fell into her brother’s chest with a sob, her hands wrapping around him tightly. Rafe’s eyes filled with tears at the action, his own arms hesitating before holding her back as the two of them cried together.

Yelling nearby broke apart the peaceful moment, just as Kiara finished rewrapping JJ’s side with fresh bandages after cleaning the skin. She zipped your backpack before returning it, her eyes glancing to where the yelling is coming from. “I hate to break this up, but we need to go.”

John B was quick to get Sarah back to his side, taking her hand protectively as the group shifted out of the room to keep moving. You stayed back with JJ, moving just a bit slower to keep his side from reopening and letting the others gain some lead on you.

“You okay?” You asked as he winced and pressed his hand where the wound was. 

He nodded, letting out a breath. “Just moving a lot. I don’t think fighting the waves was the best idea for it, yeah?”

You shook your head at him, eyes glancing over before you caught sight of a large, dark storm cloud on the horizon. “J? What’s that?”

He looked up and followed your gaze to where the impending issue lied. “Oh fuck. We gotta go.”

Not asking any further questions, you continued up the hill with him until you caught sight of John B, Sarah, Kie, and Rafe. Your brother was holding the map up to the sky, a shaped figure coming back in the reflection of the paper that looked nearly identical to the statue that was up ahead. 

“Crown’s gotta be up there. Come on, let’s go.”

--

a/n: hi i'm so sorry this is short and took forever, just wanted to give a lil something before we get to the next scene

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[michirukaioureincarnate]

The Blade's Shelter

A Mizu Oneshot

Fandom: Blue Eye Samurai Pairing: Mizu x Reader Genre(s): Fluff 𖹭𖹭𖹭 | Smut 𖹭𖹭𖹭𖹭𖹭 | Angst 𖹭 Theme(s): First time | Friends w/ benefits Warning(s): Sexual themes (consensual) | No editing/proofreading Summary: After Mizu stumbles into your hiding spot like an injured stray, you two form a silent arrangement of give and take until she gives you more than you can handle. Reading Stats: 6980 words | 27 min read Disclaimer: All characters are consenting adults | Aged 21+

─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────── A/n: bruh I started writing this AGES ago, like, I'm talking MONTHS and MONTHS ago. Idk what's up with me and writing cuz it's been hard to find joy in the process over the past few years despite being excited about my ideas. Glad that I got this over with, finally. Anyhooo, hope y'all enjoy it <3 ─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────

⋅ ⚔ ⋅

The bitterness in your mouth made you think your gums were bleeding all the time. It started when you married into a family of well-renowned sumurais, with no protest from Mizu when you broke the news to her.

She hadn't reacted at all, perhaps because becoming a spinster wouldn't bode well for someone of your standing. You were hoping she'd save you from your pre-written fate, just as she had escaped hers. After all, women were simply pawns for negotiating where the wealth went and stayed.

Despite your musings of fleeing the upcoming nuptials, you stayed. Not because you were weak, but because you realized you couldn't do much for Mizu if you didn't go through with it.

⋅ ⚔ ⋅

She often took refuge in the empty barn on your father's estate, and you'd bribed the farmer for his silence in order to tend to her whenever she returned. The barn was your safe space to get away from the frivolities of daily life, until Mizu rolled in quietly through the top floor window one night—and nearly gave you a heart attack—when escaping from some city guards. They bled all over the floor despite seeming cool and collected.

Then they passed out.

You couldn't make sense of how someone could've scaled the barn so quietly and swung themselves in so easily from the roof. It was even more shocking when you found out that someone was a woman.

A very handsome one.

That's how it started. You tending to her wounds, and her waking up in the middle of being bandaged and flipping you onto your back with a dagger to your throat. The strangest part was her patting around for her amber-stained spectacles to put them on before opening her eyes. Warm brown eyes through the honeyed glass. She made sense of the situation just as quickly and got off you, wincing as she clutched her wound. It took some insistence to get her to stay so you could bring her some food, and she complied, eventually falling asleep in the hay. She was gone the next morning, much to your dismay, but came back because she wanted to repay you for your hospitality.

And for not ratting her out to the authorities as well.

It was a blood-stained hair comb of gold with a beautiful lotus of rose quartz petals. That thoroughly intimidated you, and the woman seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in it before wiping away the still-wet crimson splatters.

"It belonged to a woman who fought for her destiny and sacrificed herself very happily for it," she said to you as she wagged the comb at you. "Hopefully this reminds you to make better choices in your pursuit."

Shock was an understatement. "How did you–"

"You're quite loud when you're angry," she smirked. "Also, maybe don't accidentally spill hot tea on suitors that could kill you."

You scoffed and left to get her some dinner. "Stay here. I haven't eaten tonight. You might as well join me."

You gave her your name, and she gave you hers. Mizu. just Mizu. The strange woman who'd drop in every now and then with something to bargain in exchange for food and a warm place to sleep. You understood her intention quite quickly, and you went along with the silent contract, especially since she was quite mindful of the things she brought. Somehow, she always knew what you wanted that week, and you began wondering if you really were all that loud when you talked.

And so began conversations about life and dreams in whispers, but only from your end. She'd listen absently, usually on the verge of sleep until she'd start snoring. That was only until summer started rolling in slowly, and she'd be eating slower. You'd start yapping as soon as you were done stuffing your face, and she'd listen with distracted nods. Then you noticed that she'd be done eating sooner and would sat hunched over crossed legs, arms outstretched to rest her wrists on her knees with eyes downcast, probably tuning you out as she gathered her bearings for the evening.

And then she started looking at you. Small glances at first until she had enough courage to look right at you as you talked. Frankly, you weren't ready for her direct and steady gaze. It was so intense behind those yellow-tinted glasses gleaming in the light of the oil lamp. Her eyes were warm like the bark of the sakura bonsai in your room.

It startled you. "W-what is it?"

She raised her brows dubiously. "Nothing? You were saying?"

You narrowed your eyes at her and continued your spiel about a poetry book you were gifted by a suitor. He was attempting to come off as open-minded about women being literate, but ended up offending you with the works of a man who clearly viewed women as beneathe even animals.

Mizu's head slowly tilted to the side, an elbow balanced on her knee to lift her fist, resting her cheek upon its knuckles as she continued to listen. You felt hot in the ears and looked away.

"I-I should let you sleep, I suppose," you stammered. "Long day tomorrow."

"More suitors to chase away?" she asked, a chortle behind her throat. "I'll do you a favor in exchange for missing today's payment."

Your head snapped over to her. "Mizu, I never saw them as payments. I...assumed they were gifts."

"Nothing's ever free. Neither should be your hospitality. Or your silence. Or the farmer's."

You sighed. "You don't have to pay for tonight."

"Then I'm incurring debt."

"No!" you groaned exasperatedly and shot up to your feet, swiping the tray of empty dishes from before her and rushing to the steps. "Just sleep, Mizu. We'll discuss this later."

The next morning, you found a pair of weighted gauntlets by the stack of hay Mizu had claimed as her resting spot. Metal, and quiet heavy. You'd noticed them on her wrists and ankles before.

"Goodness..." you gasped as you picked them up. "Heavy!"

How she could move with those on was beyond your comprehension, except that she must be exceptionally strong. Well, you knew that from the first time you and her met, and how she flipped you over. It was unusual for a woman to have that kind of strength, but it was inspiring to you.

A note on the groun caught your attention.

Collateral, it read. You rolled your eyes and safely put the gautlets away where no one would see. That evening, Mizu came with her "payment". A book with a beautiful deep blue ribbon embroidered in gold.

Mizu looked quite despondent when she held it out. You took it cautiously–almost fearful, really–and noticed that it was slightly charred in some places. You leafed through it. Poetry.

"She would've wanted it to go to someone who'd appreciate it..." Mizu muttered as she walked past you to settled down onto the hay.

You turned to her inquisitively. "Won't you eat?"

"Don't have an appetite," she grumbled and slightly curled into herself, pulling the corner of the folded sheet over her body. You were confused and looked through the book a little more, finding some pages with smudged ink, as if the writer had cried over them. There were tiny splatters of something dark—blood. As you turned the pages, you noticed the writing becoming more erratic, and sentences becoming nonsensical.

You exaled sharply as something akin to grief came over you. "Mizu, is this...what happened?"

She only sighed. Whatever the truth was, you couldn't imagine how tragic it must've been for someone like Mizu to be affected by it. Even more so, how tragic life must've been for the one who wrote the poetry. Holding the notebook to your chest, you pulled the gauntlets out from their hiding place on the beam above and slowly walked over to her, lowering onto your knees.

"Mizu," you said softly, "whatever it was, don't punish yourself. Please eat."

She sighed again, more deeply than before. "I'm...too tired."

"Then let me," she said. "I...don't have change for your payment, so let me account for it."

You couldn't believe that it pulled a chuckle from Mizu as she weakly turned onto her back. That's when you noticed the ash on her cheekbone and jaw. Her clothes smelled of smoke...and something else. Burned flesh, but only a hint of it.

You didn't want to think about what she'd been through that day.

Arranging the hay behind her, she leaned back against it to sit up as you pulled the tray over. You softened the bread in the thick soup, hoping it wouldn't have Mizu chewing too much. As you raised the deep spoon to her lips, you caught her watching you intently from behind her amber frames. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you set your lips in a thin line to avoid making a strange face of embarrassment. You looked at her mouth, watching her lips glisten with a thin sheen of soup.

Much to your surprise, you were overcome with the urge to wipe them clean. With your own lips.

Mizu quickly licked them clean and snapped you out of your intrusive thoughts, and heat flared around your neck. You turned away quickly to fill up the spoon with more soup and bread, trying to compose yourself in those few seconds. When you faced her again, she had a smirk on her face.

You wanted to smack it away.

"What?" you demanded, your voice much higher than you expected it to be.

Mizu only shook her head lightly and reajusted her glasses. "It's amusing to see someone of your social standing be so..."

"Subservient?" you offered sourly.

She shook her head. "Nurturing."

It came out so soft and tender that your lips parted in surprise. It didn't help with the warmth creeping down your shoulders. "We're taught to be, though. We have to care for our husbands this way eventually."

"Ahh," she nodded teasingly, "so I'm your practice husband."

"Mizu!"

She only gave you a lopsided grin before taking the spoon in your hand to feed herself. "Eat your food. The change is accounted for, I believe."

You rolled your eyes and did as told, happy to have an excuse to not burn up under her gaze despite the winter chill. Eating faster than normal, you were hyperaware of Mizu watching you. Constantly.

"What is it?" you hissed at her from behind your bowl of soup. "Is there something on my face?"

She shrugged. "You're just...pretty."

"Huh? Why, you–" you scoffed. "What are you playing at?"

She shrugged again. "I don't blame your family. You're pretty, and men see that. You make yourself even more desirable by making yourself unattainable."

"What on earth do you mean?"

She raised a brow at you over her own bowl of soup that she sipped from. Tipping her head back to finish it up, she set the bowl down and wiped her mouth. "Word's on the street that you're a challenge to conquer. It's got some Daimyōs talking. Even heard some rumors about how you're setting up booby traps for suitors to get through."

"Oh, those aren't rumors," you said immediately before slapping a hand on your mouth. That came out too easily. "Please don't tell anyone I'm doing it on purpose. My parents don't know. They think people are being ridiculous."

Mizu grinned that same lopsided grin again. "Quite the woman you are. Who are you waiting for exactly?"

You.

The thought came to you without hesitation, and you felt embarrassed. It made no sense. Mizu was a woman. How could you, as a woman, feel for another woman? But it just felt so natural for some reason.

You'd never liked anyone so much. Ever.

"I'm waiting for no one," you grunted. "You know that."

"You're waiting for something, that's for sure."

With a huff, you gathered the empty dishes and piled them onto the tray. You didn't want to be interrogated only to be laughed at, especially when she knew everything about you.

And you knew nothing but her name.

"What about you, then?" you demanded. "What's your deal? You come and go as you please, but I don't even know if you're a criminal."

"A secret for a secret, eh?" she said thoughtfully as she fell deeper into the hay, hands clasped over her stomach. "Tough bargain. I have too many, and neither will satisfy any of your curiosities."

"How can someone have too many secrets?" you said on the verge of annoyance. "Does no one know anything about you?"

She raised her brow at you with a pointed look as she reached for her straw Kasa hat, placing it over her face as she relaxed back completely. Before you knew it, she was breathing deeply, but not snoring.

You had one question.

Setting the tray down, you shuffled over to her and got down on your knees. With a hooked finger under the brim of her Kasa, you pulled it up to reveal her face. Her eyes scrunched behind her glasses as the light of the oil lamp sneaked in.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Your glasses," you stated. "Tell me why you wear them."

"And get myself killed?"

"You're so dramatic, Mizu," you grumbled.

She popped open an eye. "If you're so curious, take them off yourself."

Simple enough, you thought. Your lack of attentiveness came as no surprise to Mizu as she grabbed your outstretched hand by the wrist and moved like lightning. And then you were on your back with hands pinned over your head, straddled by Mizu.

Your face was on fire.

Past the bitter scent of combat and injurt, she smelled of sweet wood, incense, a hint of sweat, and some of the staleness of hay.

"Did you forget what you're dealing with?" she laughed deeply from her chest, and you cleared your throat as you tried to find the words to say. She was pretty up close, with an endearing gaze your way, as if she thought of you as nothing more than a defenseless fawn who couldn't walk yet.

"I-I don't know what you are," you stammered. "Also, how do you move that fast?!"

It was then that her glasses slid a little lower. Only a little, but just enough for you to get a glimpse of something where it shouldn't be.

Blue.

Her eyes were blue.

You gasped, and Mizu's hands were off you in a flash as she pushed her glasses back up. She curled away from you, almost scandalized as she pushed herself up to stand with a displeased grunt.

"M-Mizu, I didn't–"

"It wasn't your fault," she cut in so coldly that you felt the chill in your bones. "I was careless. Too careless. I let my guard down, and that was a mistake."

"It's really not that serious."

"Not to you," she seethed over her shoulder, glaring through her golden spectacles rendering her beautiful blue irises a molten brown of fury. She was angry, though not at you. "I should go."

Before you could say anything, she'd gathered her things in a flash and slipped out of the window.

And she didn't come back.

⋅ ⚔ ⋅

You never stopped going to the barn. It was your safe space, after all. Autumn came, but Mizu never showed herself.

Sometimes you felt like you were being watched, or that a foreign shadow flitted past, but you'd ignore it. Other times, you caught a whiff of her scent, but you knew you were just imagining it.

You missed her, but you never said it out loud. All you'd do is leave food out for her every evening and leave, and come back to it untouched, stale, and cold.

Until the first morning of winter.

The bowl was empty, and there was a beautiful Kanzashi with ornaments of purple iris flowers hanging off a braided thread.

You'd just broken your favorite Kanzashi last night.

"Mizu?" you gasped, looking around desperately. A soft thud from behind alerted you, and you turned quickly to a silhouette darkened by the cold sunlight pouring in from the window behind them.

But it was oh-so-familiar. When the Kasa came off, Mizu's face looked right at you.

She took her glasses off.

Your mouth went dry at the vibrant shade of blue peering at you, making your heart soar. And you couldn't help it. Your feet moved on their own, running in small steps due to the tight wrap of your damned kimono as you threw your arms around her waist.

"You're okay," you breathed shakily against her heartbeat. It sped up under your ear, though you weren't sure why. "Where did you go?"

She wasn't breathing, and she was quite skinny in your embrace despite her obvious strength. You felt her uncertain hand on your back as her chest finally deflated.

"I had to go to Kyushu."

You pulled away and looked up at her. "K-Kyushu? That's so far away! Whatever for?"

She only shook her head. You finally let go of her, clearing your throat as you put some distance between yourselves. Straightening out your clothes, you tried to think of something to say.

"I'll get you some lunch."

"But–"

"I've been worried sick about you and the last thing I want is an argument about payment or debt," you snapped. "As punishment for your absence, you'll do as I say for as long as you were gone!"

Mizu blinked down at you in surprise, pursing her lips slightly as a hint of amusement spread over her features. She was clearly trying hard to restrain it.

"As you say, Oujo-sama."

Your hand instinctively flew for her face. It was intended to be a light and playful smack of warning, but Mizu caught it inches away from her cheekbone. She gripped your hand in hers securely, the warmth of her blood seeping onto your skin as she tugged you into her shadow.

You gasped softly, stumbling close to her chest with only the backs of your hands between each other's faces. Mizu stared at you with furrowed eyebrows, trying to convey something through her stern gaze as she–to your utter surprise–pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

Your knees almost gave away. Her lips were soft on your skin, and her breath fanned over your fingers as she pulled away, the sound of her parting lips fizzling into the air intimately. Your eyes zeroed in on her mouth, feeling faint tingles of...of yearning spreading over your tongue for a taste of her.

"I missed you."

You'd both said it, breathlessly and shamelessly. Except that neither of you really knew what the other meant by that confession. For all you knew, it was all sisterly affection on her part. [A/n: useless fckn sapphics istfg both of you]

"Oh, um..." you flushed with heat as you tore your gaze off hers. "Well, I'm glad you were thinkng about me."

Mizu said nothing, only gripping your hand tighter. "Won't you sit with me?"

"Let me at least bring you some food," you insisted. "I'm hungry, and you must be too."

She raised a brow at you. "Your family's quite lenient, letting you eat alone."

"Oh, no, they think I'm trying to lose weight for–"

You paused. Mizu probably didn't know, and this wasn't how you wanted to break it to her.

"I'll be back," you said quickly and slipped out of her grasp, missing her touch and closeness instantly as you scurried away.

When you returned, Mizu had made herself comfortable in the same spot of hay as she used to. You set down the food, and the conversation flowed as naturally as it used to. Well, it was just you rambling on again, but you told her about the ash-dusted poetry book, how much you loved it, but no details about its writer.

You were sure she was long dead.

Mizu listened more attentively than ever before, or maybe she was gone for so long that you forgot what it was like to be heard at all. Either way, you two talked into the sunset, and you had the farmer bring in dinner for the two of you. You didn't want to let Mizu out of your sight for even a second, fearful that she might disappear forever again.

In the cloak of the dark night with its sequin of stars, you and Mizu shared a blanket on the roof of the barn. Mizu had coolly swung herself up from the window, but you were smarter and simply used the ladder inside. And then there you were, looking at the stars and pointing out constellations to her.

Then there was silence, and it wasn't very comfortable. Not for you, anyway. You knew you had to tell her the situation before you left the barn for your room.

"I'm...getting married," you said, "as soon as spring comes."

You were hoping for a reaction that would convince you to go against the fate your parents had decided.

"To who?" she asked coolly, completely unaffected. Your heart sank.

"A daimyō of the Akamatsu clan," you replied, subdued. "Weird guy. Doesn't talk much."

She hummed. "Does it bother you?"

"I guess..." you sighed. "I talk because I want an opinion on things. I could just talk to myself or a statue if I didn't want a response at all."

Mizu seemed to grow sheepish. "Sorry," she muttered, but you only shook your head. You understand she hadn't grown up around the things you had.

"I like that you asked me things," you said. "That's more than what most of these suitors do to impress me."

Mizu smiled. "Something's better than nothing, I guess. Will you be okay, though? Getting married and all?"

You shrugged. "Not like I have a choice, do I?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Someone like you wouldn't survive being destitute when your father passes. Given your reputation, you'd be...taken advantage of a lot."

"Ah, you heard..." you muttered. Her father's health wasn't public knowledge yet, but you weren't surprised that Mizu still managed to get wind of it.

"Well," she sighed in a bittersweet way, "when you're married, that means no more warm dinners for me. Better find another naive Oujo-sama to take care of me."

You punched her arm, and she laughed huskily up at the stars.

"I take it that you're back here for a while," you said, and Mizu nodded. "Then I'll arrange for something at my husband's residence. We don't have to stop meeting."

"Too risky."

"How else will I be able to help?" you grumbled. "It's not like I can run away to live a life on the road with you, can I?"

Mizu was silent for a moment, as if contemplating it. She eventually shook her head. "No. You'd...hold me back."

She didn't have to say that out loud, you frumbled internally.

"What do you do anyway?" you prodded. "Or is that a secret too?"

"Sort of..." she mumbled. "It's...something I've prepared for since I was a child. A plan of revenge."

You were sure she meant to sound a little more serious, but she just seemed tired.

"I'm getting there," she continued. "I'm getting closer, I think. Something's in the air, and I don't think it'll be long before I have to travel somewhere far again."

Your heart clenched in your chest. "Is it so important? Why can't you just...stay here and live a comfortable life. You'll die if you keep getting injured."

"A rare occurrence."

"Still!"

"Like I said, I've prepared for it all my life."

You knew there was no talking her out of it. "Fine, do as you wish. I'm heading back down. It's cold."

Mizu nodded, and she helped you down the ladder in the darkness, following after you with the blanket in one arm. You watched her walk past you to the haystack lit up by the moonlight, preparing for the night. You didn't want to go just yet, and the oil lamp had run out of flame.

"I'm scared," you blurted out suddenly. Mizu paused and turned sideways to look at you. "I'm scared of getting married."

They looked sympathetic. "Why?"

"I...I don't know," she sighed. "My mother, she gave me some strange pictures and..."

Mizu laughed softly and plopped down into the hay beckoning you over. "It's not all that scary when you're both ready for it."

You shuffled over to sit on your knees by her side, feeling constricted in the kimono as always. "How do you know?"

"I was married once."

"To a man?" you said disappointedly.

She raised a teasing brow, smirking mischievously. "I wasn't aware that marrying women was an op–"

"Ignore what I said," you grumbled, earning the small lopsided grin you'd missed so much. "I'm just worried I'll disappoint my husband and, in turn, my family as well."

Mizu stared at you incredulously. "Wait, you've...have you never had a lover before?"

You scoffed. "Why would I? I simply had no interest."

"Good grief..." she stared at you in a daze. "Wow, you're really just...going into this head first."

Nodding sadly, you looked away as your heart lurched in your chest, followed by a flare of heat up your neck. "I just...wish I knew what it would be like. It's too late for that, though. The whole town knows about my engagement. I mean, I doubt my husband-to-be cares if I have a secret lover either way, but..."

Your hands, stacked on your lap, twitched with something. An urge, a yearning, especially for closeness to Mizu. You bravely looked up at her as your heart lurched in your chest.

"Could you tell me what it'll be like?"

She looked back at you uncertainly. "It's not something that can be explained, really."

"Oh..." you sighed, looking off to the side nervously to avoid her gaze. You were hoping she would've taken the hint, but there really was no point to trying. Mizu was married to a man once, and she seemed to remember it quite fondly.

So imagine the surprise when you felt the back of her fingers gently caress your cheek. Your mouth went dry when Mizu cupped your jaw, turning your face to hers.

"I...could show you," she whispered almost breathlessly, red in the ears with a heavy gaze that searched your face in the soft moonlight pouring through the window. "I guess I'd know how to prepare you as a woman myself."

You weren't entirely sure what she meant just yet, so you simply went along with it. "That makes sense, yes."

In the darkness of the night, you heard her shuffle and felt the flutter of her fabric on your wrist. You lost your breath as her nose brushed yours, feeling her breath on your lips. The air between your bodies grew warmer despite the immense cold of the night, and it enveloped you. Heat rolled off her body onto yours like a gentle hearth, except that you were compelled to throw your hands into the embers regardless of the burn.

But you remained patient.

She was close. So close, enough to feel the warmth of her lips on yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, and Mizu's trailing fingers up the side of your neck left sparks of pleasure in their wake. You stayed right where you were, frozen, expectant, your heart pounding harder by the moment until her fingers delicately grabbed your chin.

She pulled you in, and you exhaled sharply as her mouth brushed yours momentaily. Your heart soared, and your soul practically left your body as an electric blossom sparked from your chest and throughout your whole body. She pecked you cautiously with her soft lips, the sweet sound of parting lips dissipating faintly into the air as every cell of your skin buzzed with the awarness of her presence.

You opened your eyes a peek to see Mizu looking at you with concern and curiosity.

"Th-that wasn't so bad," you whispered. Mizu nodded, and your hands found the panels of her haori, clutching onto them as she leaned down to kiss you again. This time, she was firmer. Her hand closed on your throat, thumb admiring its slender side before sliding to the back of your neck. You mewled softly as her fingers clutched your hair with restrained desperation that you didn't realize she had.

The seemingly unfeeling and reclusive vagabond had a crack in her mask, through which escaped her soft and ardent sigh. You pulled her in closer, wishing to feel her skin on yours, fingertips tracing her clavicle to trail over the bone of her shoulder. Her other hand reached for your waist with purpose, hooking her fingers under your obi to pull you in with a simple yet strong tug.

You huffed upon feeling her body flush against yourself. Your other hand splayed above her breast, not on purpose, but she didn't seem to mind, too engrossed in cushioning your lips with the warmth of her own. Her arm kept your knees from giving away, leaning into you as you tried to stay upright, her kiss tender yet coupled with something akin to need. It was making you dizzy, and you could barely keep your eyes open. You moaned softly, feeling small and secure in her embrace.

Mizu huffed as she paused, walking back towards her haystack and pulling you with. She fell back to sit, allowing you to fall in her lap so she could kiss you again. Her hand clasped your jaw gently with practiced restraint, guiding your mouth open to press her warm tongue against yours.

Oh... you thought helplessly with a faint whine. That's lovely.

The sound you made seemed to have encouraged Mizu as she kissed you deeper, and you felt yourself getting drunk on the way she felt; like cool and pure water swirling on your tongue. You'd surrendered to her, limp in her very strong embrace as she quenched herself upon your lips. Your hands clamored for her neck, fingers slipping into her hair to keep her where she was so you could continue to remain intoxicated, kissing her back fervently.

Much to your disappointment, Mizu pulled away, breathing heavily through slightly swollen lips tinged with red. Her breasts pressed against yours with each inhale, and you loved the way it felt.

"Well..." she muttered shakily, "that's how it starts."

You peered up at her through your eye lashes, not really thinking straight. "And where does it go?"

"A-are you sure?"

You giggled, feeling victory in finally getting her to lose composure. "Unless you believe this is a sufficient enough lesson then–"

Her kiss effectively silenced you, one that was even deeper than the last. She grabbed around your shoulders to pull you closer as she hoisted your higher on her lap. You let out a sound of surprise at her strength, and also of shame as her thigh pressed into a sensitive spot between yours, eliciting a throb of warmth in a sensitive spot that you were still quite unfamiliar with.

She kissed you truly now, like she'd missed you, softly nipping at your bottom lip after sucking on it when pulling back momentarily, then diving in to explore your mouth once more. You tried to express your desire for her in return by kissing her back, but she was too strong. She'd completely dominated you.

Her fingers dug into your obi, trying to find your curves while grunting into your mouth with displeasure. You pushed her back the best you could, finding a sliver of space between your bodies to undo your layers. You wanted to kiss her without restraint, and your clothes didn't help. Before you knew it, your lapels fell away, and her hand slipped past the fabric to caress your bare shoulder as you shuddered from the chill of the air.

She leaned down and kissed right at the swell of your breast that peeked over your loosened neckline, following up to your shoulder. The softness of her lips trailing your cleavage elicited quiet mewls of ecstasy that turned to shuddering exhales as her tongue licked up the side of your neck, sucking lightly with breathy groans vibrating against your skin. She paused to breathe, looking up at you for your certainty. The wait was unbearable, especially since you'd been longing for this moment for ages without ever realizing it. Taking her hand, you nervously slid it down your chest, breathing heavily as her warm palm slid onto your breast.

Mizu's eyes grew heavier, her fingers squeezing gently to fondle you. A soft, embarrassed gasp left you as her thumb ran over your nipple.

"Is...this how it goes?" you asked timidly, and Mizu gulped, licking her lips as her breath labored. She pulled you in closer, hoisting you higher on her hips until her warmth breath fanned across your sternum, her fingers having pulled away the fabric to now reveal your bare torso to her under the moonlight for her blue eyes to gaze on.

"I..." she exhaled with a stagger, "I must warn you that your husband might not...take his time with you as I will."

You furrowed your brows. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes locked with yours as her face loomed closer to your left breast, her warm and supple tongue glinting with spit as she pressed it against your soft peak. The rush of pleasure from the swipe of her tongue had you gasping, and her lips closed around your aerola with a gentle, wet suckle that pooled electrifying, aching throb between your thighs. Mizu's hands immediately rose from your thighs to your waist, holding you still as her eyes fluttered shut, and you felt her tongue run slow circles over the sensitive bud of your breast languidly.

"M-Mizu..." you gasped sharply, unable to escape her arms wrapping around you as your pelvis pressed against her firm abdomen. Your hips rolled against her on their own accord, your pulsing canal growing damp as it searched desperately for something. Somewhere in the soft folds between your legs was a bud that ached to be touched, and a shot of pleasure permeated from it througout your pelvis as Mizu pressed her body against you, a hand gripping the back of your thigh as her hips rolled up into you.

Mizu's chest rose and fell against your ribs heavily as she pulled away from your chest, leaving your damp breast vulnerable to the cool night air. "Y/n, tell me if you want me to stop."

"I don't," you whispered needily, and it was all it took for her to flip you against the haystack and be on top of you. You gasped, heart pounding as she loomed over you, keeping you in her shadow as the rest of your clothes came undone. Though you'd been naked before your female servants during baths and whilst being dressed, this was neither of those occassions.

Mizu looked like she was going to devour you.

The shyness overtook you like a wave, arms crossing over your chest as your bare legs remained parted around Mizu's waist. You felt so much more exposed than ever before, yet there was a sense of safety that came from the softness in her cobalt irises. Your eyes locked with hers, searching each other as her fingertips trailed down our arms, feathery touches tickling over your navel as they approached the most private spot where the inside of your thighs began.

"Again..." Mizu said gently yet firmly, with a slight tremble in her voice, "you can tell me to stop."

You shook your head, more curious than nervous about what was to come. Instinctively, you knew where her hand would go. You wanted her to touch you there. You just weren't sure what she would do when—

"OH!"

The unexpectedly overwhelming pleasure of her soft touch brushing over your nub sent your back in an arch, eliciting a wantonly moan that was much louder than you would've allowed, and Mizu's mouth fell upon yours immediately to silence you. But it was difficult to keep your voice down when her fingers felt so heavenly swiping over the sensitive button hidden in the damp folds. You writhed under her, your knees held parted by her hips as her free arm wrapped around your arched waist to keep you steady. As she drank your surprised mewls, her fingertip petted your moist lips lovingly at your damp entrance, circling over them with a gentle pressure as her knuckles pressd onto your nub.

"Mizu," you cried between breaths against her lips, body tensing up as the ecstasy grew intense, "I—how—"

"Shh," she whispered. "Breathe. Let your body ease in it."

"I—I can't!" you gasped, feeling your walls pulsing quicker, harder as the slick dampness trickled out of you, your walls begging for something to squeeze down on. "I need more of you." It was the only way it made sense to say it. "Please..."

Mizu's mouth pressed harder against yours almost reluctantly, as if she enjoyed hearing you plead. Her fingertips pressed tentatively at the edges of your entrance, exhaling sharply as she collected your nectar to glide up your slit and carress your bud with care, only making you squeal into her mouth.

"This is how you should get," she muttered breathlessly against your tongue, "or it'll hurt when it goes in."

"W—hat goes in?" you stammered. [A/n: was gonna make the "Inserts himself? Inserts himself where?" reference from Bridgerton s3 over here lol]

She didn't give you time to think as a slender digit slipped into you easily, causing your jaw to drop and all air to be lost from your lungs with the way your walls closed around her fingers with unqunchable thirst. "Fuck!"

Your words were lost to her lips once more as another finger slipped in, stretching you out comfortably, but it was the way your canal contracted around them that sent intense waves of pleasure around your entire core, jolsting your hips against her palm that cupped your vulva. If her fingers inside you weren't already driving you crazy, the pressure of her palm's heel on your clit was definitely doing it. And before you could even process how overwhelming fervor consumed your body, she began to pump her fingers inside you.

Slowly.

You were forcing yourself to breathe at this point as the pleasure seized every muscle in your body, trying to comprehend Mizu's digits sliding out teasingly with your walls begging for them to not leave, before she rammed them back into you deep enough to knock her knuckles against your lower lips. The sound of it, her skin and bone against your thick coating of wetness, only added to the arousal, and Mizu finally stopped kissing you to let you breathe, looking down at you with a daze like wonder as her hand moved once more, thrusting her two middle digits into your core deeply, rigorously, her fingertips finding a particularly sensitive spot in the depths of your crevice that pulled strangled mewls and cries from your lips.

"Everyone's going to hear you," Mizu chuckled deeply. "You have to try being quite. Breathe."

She held you close, her warmth pressing through her clothes and onto your bare body as her lips savored your neck with a gentleness that opposed the way she pumped into you with vigor. The sweetness of her kiss riddled your head with euphoria, making you lightheaded. You could barely keep your eyes open anymore.

Your hands flailed over her body for grounding as you begged her to keep going, your fingernails digging into her shoulders, breasts bouncing against her chest from the force of her thrusts, and your form instinctively curling against her. You could feel yourself getting sore, but you didn't want her to stop as a sensation in your core pulled like a band, growing tighter and tighter until, suddenly, it was let go to snap sharply.

"MIZU!" you cried out, your spine arching like a snapped twig as your hips jumped, pulling your pelvis off her fingers as a violent shudder of bliss ebbed throughout. Mizu's hand slapped onto your mouth to contain your moans, and you tried to catch your breath, each inhale softening the intensity of whatever addictive buzz had overtaken you. The trembling came from your bones, rendering your twitching body limp in Mizu's arms as she fell away onto her back and pulled you close, reaching out for your undone robes to drape over you before wrapping you in her arms securely.

"That..." you huff as you hid your face into her shoulder, "that was really...um..."

"Yeah," she said softly. "Except it won't be his fingers inside you."

"Shut up," you groaned. "I don't want to talk about him right now."

She chuckled. "If you wanted to bed me, you could've just asked instead of using your wedding night nerves as an excuse."

You smacked her chest with your fist, but it didn't silence her. You were still twitching, but the high of the pleasure had died down quite a bit, leaving you exhausted like never before. It was hard to keep youor eyes open, but the fear of waking up to Mizu gone kept your fingers clutched on her haori.

"Please don't leave me like this..." you muttered. "Don't...don't go away."

She patted your back almost affectionately. Well, it felt like it at least. "I'm here for a little while. Don't worry."

Though you didn't quite believe her, you decided to accept it before finally allowing yourself to be lulled to sleep.

⋅ ⚔ ⋅

─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────── A/n: NGL my insecurity about my writing skills have come back. Been working on it in therapy but maybe this is something that will stay. I just need to make the concious decision to persist regardless of how negatively I feel about my craft. ─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────

[inthefoxholes]

1000% yes. It just not only makes the characters one-dimensional, it also completely takes me out of the story. How often do Rook and their romance reassure each other that they’ll make it out alive in the last two quests?? Why? What kind of assumption is that, going against gods? Why is everyone so upbeat about this? I guess it was supposed to be romantic/touching, but when Rook promised Lucanis that they‘d definitely see each other again when all was over I was so angry, that is such a disingenuous thing to say before something that is for all intents and purposes a suicide mission. (But it wasn’t, and again the emotional response fell flat and it all felt goofy rather than epic)

And I would also add to the very valid points made above, that this emotional flatness is a corollary to the sanitized world of datv. Conflicts in previous games arose because something was terribly wrong, and this wrongness could often enough not be talked away - action was required. Alastair‘s conflict arose from the fact that he was a bastard and given away for political reasons, and now called upon to take responsibility by the same system that had discarded him before. Just listening to him is not enough. As a player you have to actually support him through this by your actions (or not, and potentially lose him). (And that’s just one example, let’s not even talk about your crew from da 2, where everyone was so traumatized that any help you could offer was first and foremost damage control.)

There is nothing like this in veilguard? Lucanis is possessed by an actual fucking demon, and it’s kinda unproblematic? Because there are no Templars anymore and people are suddenly super chill with abominations? Harding manages to pacify (?) an actual fucking titan, a being of unfathomable age and scope by… I don’t even know, have someone tell her feelings are ok, a truth she not only integrates into herself in a matter of seconds but then manages to instill in a being that should be beyond her horizon of understanding? And this is not something we should ruminate on? The titans, the monstrous thing that was done to them? It’s just ok now? I don’t even know what Neve is supposed to represent or solve. There are lichs in this world and we‘re not gonna ask about them?? They’re not gonna help us, have never helped anyone, are super fine with slavery and exalted marches, no explanation given? But they are still the good guys, kinda? I could go on. (Don’t get me started on Illario - what the fuck do you mean I can’t kill him?? He betrayed Lucanis, kept him in a torture-prison for a YEAR, and my choices are reconciliation or prison? How insulting is this to what Lucanis went through?)

It’s like there’s no conflict allowed in the world, apart from the big one (and how very fortunate that every companion quest ties neatly into this), and that gets resolved far too easily, without any messiness, any damage, any depth.

The thing is, it's not about the Therapy Speak. It's not that everyone who disliked DAV hates healthy communication as a dynamic in fiction. It's not even about only being allowed to be a good guy, really, because most of us did do that anyways (though the option not being there is a loss I grieve even if I never chose it myself, but that's another rant for another day).

It's that DAV does all that stuff at the expense of being believable. At the expense of characters being permitted to have personalities. At the expense of emotions behaving the way emotions actually work for people. At the expense of letting the plot build tension through the stakes we're forced to grapple with.

Half the fics out there take the conflicts between the characters in the previous games and resolve them. I do it myself ALL THE TIME because I like to find a path to resolution through just about any conflict, that's what fascinates me about telling these stories. But the higher the stakes, the harder a conflict is to resolve. You CAN resolve any conflict, you CAN communicate healthily through any emotion, but you can't skip the time it takes to process it all to even be able to communicate it. As someone whose got CPTSD and recovered from many Traumas, I can tell you that the TIME it takes to work through it is not something you can fast track, and the ups and downs of your emotions on that journey can't be skipped. It doesn't matter if you know exactly how to do it, exactly how it's going to feel, or exactly what the end state will be, you CAN'T speedrun it.

DAV has stakes that are astronomical, but nobody treats them that way. Nobody experiences denial - a common psychological reaction to being presented with information that shatters your worldview. Nobody expresses any distrust in the establishments handing out this information - something common among cultures that have at times been at war, even if those wars are "resolved" in the present. Nobody really ever breaks down - something that any person is capable of under extreme circumstances, especially when facing multiple crises of faith that challenge everything they thought they knew about themselves. Nobody blows their lid because they've been repressing the hell out of everything. Nobody grieves for southern Thedas, the entire thing dying off screen and giving you, the player, NO way to engage with it in any way.

Not to mention there are barely any inter-party conflicts, when there should be a lot more. Why is everyone (except Spite) fine with it if Emmrich sacrifices Manfred to become a lich? Why is everyone fine with Illario potentially being set free if he was working with the venatori and Elgar'nan, two sources that have actively attacked everyone in the party? Why doesn't Neve resent Lucanis if Treviso is picked? Why doesn't Harding get pissed off at Nevarra for having a secret society of liches that never helped during the Inquisition's war against the breach and corypheus? Why doesn't Harding feel ANYTHING about Ferelden and the rest of the south? Shouldn't Harding resent the fact that she's stuck in the north while her home dies?

All of these conflicts ARE resolvable, but not easily. And it's not believable that they're never brought up. It's not believable that these characters skip through everything that happens with like, barely a frowny face most of the time. In DAO, Alistair leaves if you don't treat his conflicts with respect. In DA2, your party members try to kill each other if you don't pay attention to their conflicts/emotional needs. In DAI, people can leave or betray you, Cassandra throws a chair at Varric and tries to body him out a window. ALL of these can be resolved but it takes effort, and the characters get to SHOW that they're bothered by them and struggling the way a person would when faced with those emotions.

The problem isn't the therapy speak, or that everyone is loyal and won't leave, or that they aren't mean to each other enough. It's that it's toxic positivity. It's toxic as fuck to imply that anger or grief should be smiled over or else you're giving up, and it's damaging to people to avoid engaging with their own negative emotional responses to extremely negative stimuli. It's pasting optimism over very real, very weighty issues, sweeping it all under the rug, and you keep waiting for the lid to blow off the pressure cooker that creates, but it never does. It never becomes anything that emulates real emotions, which is why the whole damn thing feels hollow. Everything's dying and nobody cares, not even about themselves, and that's NOT healthy communication.

It's bullshit, half-assed storytelling that didn't tell us the actual story, just the vague idea of what it could have been.

[darlingdreadwrites]

The Blade

pairing: Jeff the Killer x Final Girl!Reader

part: 1, 2, 3

summary: Jeff has you pinned to a tree, and you have an unexpected reaction. Stabbing is supposed to end someone's life, right?

contains: smut, thigh riding

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, violence, stabbing, knife kink?, implied character death, degradation and praise (felt this was super important), pet names and name calling (baby, sweetheart, bitch)

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Your movements are growing erratic, desperation flaring with every rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’re spinning, stumbling – caught between the frantic need to fight or flee, and the undeniable pull of his presence. Jeff’s eyes blaze as he watches you, amusement dancing across his features – until you make the mistake of rushing him.

He’s got you – his hands lock around your waist, and he pins you both until your back slams against the rough bark of a tree. Pain lances through your spine, but it’s nothing compared to the terrifying proximity of him. His breath is hot on your skin, the chill of his knife barely grazing the delicate skin of your neck, the cool steel teasing just above your pulse. Your heart races beneath the pressure of it, until you’re met with another pressure.

“Stay still for me, girl,” his voice drops, and it’s almost soothing in the way it promises control.

There’s that familiar, traitorous ache between your legs. You can feel your clit throbbing, screaming for his thigh to move against it and save you from an urge you’ve been hiding for months. You moan – unintentionally – your hips shifting forward, pressing against the hard length of him. You don’t care anymore, you need this—you need him.

A smirk dances on Jeff’s lips, his knife barely moving, just a slight inch of its edge pecks at your skin. He pulls back slightly, eyes flicking from your trembling body to your face, curiosity curling the edges of his lips.

“Oh?” His voice is quieter now, full of jeering. “What’s this?”

You stare up at him, hoping to god that he would just leave it be. But a louder part of you silently begs him to take this further.

Before you can respond, his leg slides between yours, pushing against you. His proximity – the heat radiating from him – is suffocating. His breath is searing against your ear as he leans in closer.

“Go on,” he whispers. “Let’s see how fucking desperate you are.”

You could cry. From embarrassment or appreciation, you don’t fucking know. But you can’t stop the roll of your hips, the relief you’re suddenly feeling almost makes you want to thank him. The friction sends a shiver through you, warmth pooling low in your stomach. The edge of the knife rests just above your pulse, its sharpness still present. You can tell, though, that he’s not going to hurt you. Not yet.

“Look at you,” Jeff taunts, adding more pressure against you. “Grinding on me like a bitch in heat. Is this what gets you off, sweetheart?”

You don’t know what to say. His words stroke a heat in your chest, flush creeping up your neck. The rush of humiliation is overpowering, but your body – and the way your underwear sticks to your cunt – betrays you. You whimper, unable to suppress the sound, your hips moving more urgently.

Your breath is coming out in shallow bursts, and you turn your face away. You want to hide the way his words make you ache, but Jeff won’t allow it. His free hand shoots up, gripping your chin with a startling force. He forces you to meet his gaze, his eyes holding a malicious delight.

“You know,” he murmurs, his cock twitching inside his pants when you moan. “I’ve thought of you, too.”

The brush of his thumb against your bottom lip sends a jolt through you, your breath hitching involuntarily. The need to taste him – the heat and salt of his skin – becomes too much. Your mouth opens, and with a whine, you take his thumb into your mouth.

His breath catches at the feeling, his brows furrowing briefly. The slight pressure of your tongue against his skin makes him shudder. He grunts at the sensation of you sucking his thumb, at the warmth of your muscle.

“I’ve thought about how much I’d love to have that pretty mouth of yours choking on my cock.” You feel him push his thumb deeper, your mouth accepting the intrusion. He coos mockingly, his bottom lip jutting out as you choke pitifully. The heat of his skin is intoxicating, and you moan against his thumb – a helpless sound that only fuels him.

“You’re trembling, baby,” Jeff purrs, a laugh escaping his lips as you struggle to regain control. “What is it? Fear? Or something else—Oh, you’re so pretty like this.”

He watches you closely, occasionally pressing his hips against yours so you can feel his erection. He loves being the thing that tears at your composure and adores how needy you are for him to do it. You can feel his words wriggling their way inside your head, making it hard to think clearly. The pulse of his knife at your throat is the only thing that’s keeping you roped to reality.

His thumb slides out of your mouth with a wet pop, and you glare up at him. But the incessant throb at the apex of your thighs feels far too delicious for you to deny how much you’ve been wanting this. You hold back any more sounds, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Shut up,” you hiss, the words barely escaping between gritted teeth. You shift, pressing harder against his leg.

Jeff’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, filled with cruel delight. “You’re fucking perfect when you’re desperate. Keep going, sweetheart. Show me how bad you need it.”

With each drag of yourself on him, a hot spark shoots through your whole body. Despite the cold, you can feel the sweat on your skin from the heat just underneath it. Mewling, you fight the instinct of tilting your head forward, choosing to painfully press it deeper against the tree trunk.

Your chest tightens, and you can feel your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. Your orgasm is building swiftly as you move faster against him, moans turning into short, quick gasps.

You whisper, barely audible, “I hate you.”

And yet your hips grind against his thigh, stuttering as you’re chasing the peak of your orgasm. The tension between your bodies builds, electric and undeniable. You huff as tears swell in your eyes, blurring your vision. You’re quivering against him, and a whimper comes from you, which he responds with a moan of his own.

Your pussy clenches around nothing just as your knife slowly sinks itself into his abdomen, your mouth opening to let out a loud, guttural moan as he grunts.

The flesh gives way to a sickening squelch, the blood pooling around the wound as it seeps into the fabric of his hoodie. You can feel the warm wetness of it on your fingers, the sticky heat clinging to your skin as it spreads across his chest.

But Jeff doesn’t flinch. Instead, he growls, his eyes flicking down to where the knife is buried in his body, before lifting to meet yours again. His grin returns, but it’s softer now – almost impressed, like he’s savoring the moment. The blood seeping from his wound doesn’t seem to faze him, not with the way he laughs.

“Damn, baby,” he rasps. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You’re breathing hard, the buzzing high starting to settle in your bones. The pain of the cut you took earlier is a distant pulsation now, joining the throbbing of your heat, and replaced by the charge of power surging through you.

Instead of pulling back, instead of retaliating with that sick smirk or another violent move, Jeff drops his knife on the ground next to you both. He leans closer, his breath warming your already flushed cheek. His hand moves to cup your jaw, his fingers firm against your skin.

His touch is gentle, far too gentle for the chaos that’s ensued, and it sends a strange chill through you. He tilts your head slightly, brushing the bridge of his nose along your jawline in a move that should feel tender, but instead only adds to the tension between you both.

His proximity makes it impossible to think as your chest heaves from exertion. The world narrows down to just the two of you – the sharp pain of the knife lodged in his flesh, the blood still seeping out in small rivulets, and the warm press of his body against yours.

His lips are on yours, crashing into you in a bruising, open-mouthed kiss that leaves no room for hesitation or mercy. His warm tongue slides against yours, taking everything from you with one smooth, hungry movement.

The kiss is intense, a clash of lips and teeth – the sounds of your exhales resonant into the night. You can feel every rasp of his breath, every pulse of heat from his body, as it mingles with the blood from the wound beneath his hoodie. It’s too much – and yet – you don’t want it to stop. Your body melts against his as you lose yourself in the ferocity of the kiss.

But your grip on the knife doesn’t waver. You twist it slightly, the motion intentional. It’s enough to remind him that you’re still in control here.

The kiss lingers, both of you breathing heavily, and unwilling to pull away just yet. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

He doesn’t break eye contact. He whispers against your wet lips – slick with spit – his voice challenging you in dark admiration.

“Do it.”

Five Months Later

Days slip into one another, marked only by the lingering sense of anxiety that clings to you. The silence of your apartment is louder than you ever realized, the absence of the usual noise – your breath, your pulse, the relentless ticking of the clock – replacing the sound of him. Jeff – the fucking bastard that had gotten under your skin in ways you never wanted, but who you knew would never leave.

The night of the fight feels like a distant memory, though every time you close your eyes, his face flashes behind your eyelids. And it was just as mocking and cruel as ever. But you were sure – so sure – that he was dead. You remember how his body had gone slack against the tree as you helped him sit down on the dirt. He didn’t move – not a twitch. Not a sign of life. You had left him there, slumped and lifeless – convinced that it was over.

The cops didn’t find him, and they hadn’t found him since. No news reports, no searches, nothing. And that never sat right with you.

You had told yourself that you were free – you were safe. But that left a disappointing taste in your mouth. You didn’t want it to end despite you telling yourself that you should.

But still, every corner you turn, every quiet moment spent in the dark, there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t quite shake. It lingers, a reminder that not everything is as it seems.

You’ve tried to move on. But it’s hard to let go when his presence is so ingrained in your mind, when you wish it was his fingers inside of you instead of your own. You’d been forced to carry on with the mask of normalcy, each day the same as the last – each breath a little shallower than the one before.

Then one evening, just when you think you’ve finally gotten used to the quiet, when you think maybe – just maybe – he’s really gone; you walk into your apartment and find it.

You set your bag down as the door closes behind you, you lock it and breathe out. Another night of pretending. You’re about to make your way toward the kitchen when something catches your eye – a small, simple envelope. Its edges are crisp and clean, lying innocently at your feet.

You freeze.

At first, you think it’s from Miller. There’s no return address, no hint of who might have left it. The weight of it seems to drag your entire body toward it. It’s a magnetic pull that you can’t resist. Hesitantly, you bend down, the envelope smooth under your fingers. The breath you didn’t realize you were holding finally frees itself as you tear it open.

Your heart hammers in your chest when you pull it out, your whole body going cold. Inside, nestled carefully within the folds of the paper, is your hunting knife. The one you used on him.

The one you thought you’d left behind, buried in his body as he bled out against that tree.

The blade is pristine, spotless – no blood. No sign of the chaos that had unfolded that night. Just cold, gleaming steel, as though nothing had ever happened.

You stand there, staring at the knife, your pulse pounding in your ears. Every nerve in your body is on high alert, your instincts screaming at you that this is a warning – a sign. But of what?

Now, as the envelope crinkles in your hand, the strange thrill you thought would be gone forever – the one you had missed dearly – was starting to buzz under your skin again.

The blade is a reminder. It is an invitation. It is a promise of what’s to come.

He’s still out there.

[mywitchyblog]

hello! I really love your content, and I’ve been following you for quite some time. i think your opinions on various topics are very thoughtful and accurate, so i have a question.

i’ve been noticing a subject (particularly on shiftok😭) where many people express their dislike of others scripting traumatic events into their realities, included to create a more intense backstory for them. for example, scripting that they lost a parent when they were younger or went through psychotic depression as a child.

i’d like to hear your opinion on this. do you think it’s okay to script some kind of trauma or disorder? personally, I don’t see an issue with it since it doesn’t affect my life or anyone else’s, but i’d love to hear your perspective on this topic!

Oh, honey, you just brought up one of my favorite rant-worthy topics. Grab a snack because we’re diving in! 🍵✨

My ✨Personal✨ Take:

First, thank you for the love, darling! It’s always a vibe connecting with someone who actually gets it. 💅 Now, let’s talk trauma scripting, because whew, the discourse around this is hotter than Satan’s sauna.

Here’s the thing: your DR is YOURS. Period. Full stop. You can script a Disney princess life or the tragic backstory of a brooding anti-hero—it’s entirely up to you. If you want to script a life-altering trauma, go off, babe. As long as you understand what you’re doing, it’s valid.

Let’s debunk the idea that “scripting trauma is bad”: In your DR, you’re living that experience. It’s not just words on paper; it becomes your reality. So if scripting something intense—like losing a parent or battling a mental health condition—helps you process, heal, or simply add depth to your DR self, that’s your business. Trauma, when scripted thoughtfully, can even be therapeutic. For some, it’s about reclaiming control over a narrative that felt chaotic or unresolved in their CR.

But let’s be clear: this isn’t playtime. You will feel what you script. The loss, the grief, the psychotic depression? It will be as real in your DR as it is for someone who’s endured it in their CR. So, if you’re scripting trauma for kicks or because you think it’s “dramatic,” you might want to take a hard look at your intentions.

The Fanfic Shifters Rant (Aka I Hate These Hoes):

Now let me pop off on these Shiftok clowns for a second. 😤 You know exactly the ones I’m talking about: the “everything’s just a quirky little fanfic” crew who waltz into shifting spaces treating their DRs like a bad Wattpad draft.

These hoes (yes, HOES) script trauma the way they’d order a pumpkin spice latte—casually, without thinking. “Oh, I’ll just throw in some childhood abandonment and sprinkle in an abusive relationship for ✨character development✨.” Like, are you dumb? Trauma isn’t a fucking aesthetic. It’s not “flavor” for your DR backstory.

When these people romanticize trauma, they trivialize the pain that real survivors experience. And worse? They make the whole shifting community look like a joke. Imagine someone who’s genuinely trying to use their DR to heal from their CR trauma stumbling upon one of these idiots? Embarrassing. I hate these hoes with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. They treat shifting like a sandbox where nothing matters and then complain when they end up spiraling in their DR because “oops, I didn’t realize depression would feel like that.” 🤡

I cannot stress this enough: your DR isn’t a fanfic. It’s your LIFE. You’ll live it, breathe it, feel it—all of it. If you’re not prepared to shoulder the weight of the trauma you’re scripting, don’t do it. And if you’re scripting trauma because you think it’s cute or cool? Stay far, far away from me. You’re not just irresponsible—you’re dangerous.

TL;DR (But Make It Iconic):

Scripting trauma is okay—as long as you’re doing it with intention and understanding the consequences.

Don’t treat trauma like it’s a quirky little accessory for your DR backstory. It’s serious, babe. Respect it.

To the fanfic shifters romanticizing trauma: I hate you hoes. Y’all are the reason people side-eye our entire community. Fix it.

Remember, shifting is about creating your dream life, not trivializing the experiences of others or glorifying pain you’ve never lived. Be mindful, stay informed, and, most importantly, don’t be a clown. 🤡✨

[mandalhoerian]

I’m really impressed by your analysis of Raf’s new card! Everything you stated makes so much sense and gave me a fresh perspective on his insecurities.

However, I recently came across a discussion on Reddit where someone pointed out that Rafayel's actions could be seen as problematic. They argued there’s a lack of consent from MC, suggesting that MC wasn’t fully into it. They mentioned the use of the dagger as a symbol of the MC's discomfort or pain, which they attributed to her being tense or unrelaxed. They also highlighted how MC seemed to try distracting him, like asking him to answer the phone or pointing out the snow.

Personally, I don’t agree with their interpretation, but I’m struggling to articulate why. Do you have any thoughts or interpretations that might help address this perspective?

Okay, um. First and foremost, thank you for sharing your thoughts and for trusting me with this question, but god did I literally react like this.

But, before we get into the analysis of the deed itself, let’s start first by grounding this discussion in the context of the product that is Love and Deepspace.

This is a 12+ rated action-adventure sci-fi otome game, which sets a clear expectation for the tone and themes presented. While otome games can and often do explore nuanced and occasionally darker themes (and this doesn't mean they have subpar writing just because they're meant for a wider audience), they are typically balanced with the age-appropriate rating in mind. In a banner like this that is intentionally designed to revolve around romantic sex, it’s essential to recognize that the developers aren’t aiming to create content that veers into dead dove or non-consensual territory. To suggest that the writers or developers would include something as serious as this, especially under the guise of a romance storyline, is not only a misinterpretation but also an extreme departure from the genre’s conventions and the intended tone of the game.

The entire theme of the event is centered on exploring romantic tension, intimacy, and the growing bond between characters in a way that’s exciting but ultimately safe and consensual. The "spice" in these scenarios is shockingly suggestive when you have the censorship in mind, and designed to make us scream, not to introduce dark or inappropriate themes that would completely undermine the romantic fantasy. To imply otherwise is frankly absurd and feels like reading intent where there is none.

1) Otome games, particularly those rated 12+, are crafted to engage players in a romantic and emotionally fulfilling experience. They're fluffy, they're angsty, they can be dark and heavy, but even in more mature otome games, themes of non-consent (when they appear) are explicitly framed and addressed with appropriate tonal shifts. This isn’t a game where heavy, disturbing themes are shoehorned into a romantic storyline for shock value.

2) If the developers were truly presenting a situation where non-consensual sex or coercion was involved, it would be a complete betrayal of the genre, the event’s theme, and the player’s trust. The "spice" banner would instantly alienate the audience it’s designed for and spark backlash, not romantic engagement. The devs know their audience and their ratings, and this simply isn’t the place or context for something so serious.

Now that we're done WHY this sort of scenario CANNOT be the case for infold's writing, let's go into the symbolism and the language used to describe the act.

Rafayel enters the room abruptly and begins kissing MC without preamble. While this could initially seem forward, the scene takes care to show that:

MC actively breaks away to question him multiple times. This demonstrates that she is neither overpowered nor silenced, she has the agency to assert herself.

When she bites his lip, Rafayel respects this boundary and answers her questions, and more importantly, stops being non-verbal and communicates. It shows he is responsive to her cues, even when caught up in the moment.

The dynamic here leans into playful tension rather than coercion. MC’s actions (breaking away and biting) and Rafayel’s response (answering her and continuing to interact with her desires) showcase a mutual push-and-pull, common in romantic tension scenes.

As the scene progresses, it becomes clear that MC is not just passively involved but actively reciprocates:

Holds his hand on her own to make him accept the call while they're being sexual. That's freaky.

She flips him over and begins initiating physical affection, kissing him from his ear to his chest. This is a strong indication that she is not only comfortable but also eager to participate in their intimacy.

The "punish" action selected by the player highlights MC’s playful intent and interest in this interaction, especially in the context of teasing Rafayel while his friend’s call looms in the background. This playful edge basically screams mutual enjoyment rather than discomfort.

And now to the main course

the dagger

Listen. As much as we've normalized that this is dick in puss moment, infold can't. So, they've got to use euphemisms to describe Rafayel's dick and what he does with it. The metaphor of the "dagger" isn't meant to represent his dick and it hurting her.

Soft sharpness seeps into me bit by bit: This describes the initial entry, slow and deliberate, emphasizing Rafayel’s care in ensuring the act is comfortable and mutual. "Soft" reflects the intensity of the sensation without implying pain by juxtaposing with "sharpness". It also tells you that "soft sharpness" is his dick and it's describing how gentle he's being. How can sharpness be soft? When you're careful with it that it doesn't feel "sharp" anymore. It's meant to be a stand-in for his cock. It's not describing pain. It's his peanis. The dong. The verb "seeps" here says all you need to know, it's not painful.

Then it (the <<soft sharpness>>) digs into me like a dagger: This directly describes Rafayel increasing his movement (or thrusting), with the "dagger" symbolizing THE MOVEMENT. You know what you do with a dagger? Stab with it. The imagery of a dagger isn’t meant to evoke harm, it’s a stand-in for the deliberate and rhythmic motion of penetration.

So, in smut-language, Rafayel was putting it in slowly, then half-way, he thrusted it all the way in, quickly.

And so, let's interpret the act going forward.

"Yellow sand as far as the eye can see is covered by snow"

Remember that Rafayel indirectly called MC "the snow" by saying "it was soft and beautiful" when she pointed out it was snowing in the desert? This metaphor reflects the emotional and physical dynamic between Rafayel and MC. The “yellow sand” symbolizes Rafayel and his inner turmoil, dryness, and insecurities. The “snow” represents MC and his soothing presence and how her love transforms and comforts him. They are also on top of each other lmao, he is being “covered” by her presence, fully surrendering to her.

"We approach the sea beyond the dunes despite the bumpiness"

The "sea" symbolizes climax or release, both physically and emotionally. The “bumpiness” describes the physical intensity of their rhythm as they near this point together.

"Ripples travel along the undulating water's surface"

Yep. They're still going at it. This metaphor captures the sensations and physical effects of reaching climax. The ripples signify the aftereffects of release, the pleasure that radiates and envelops both of them. This is Rafayel and MC experiencing the peak of their intimacy, with the “undulating water” representing their synchronized pleasure and satisfaction.

"Swept into that endless blue"

Post-orgasm bliss. The overwhelming euphoria and serenity that comes with shared climax. It emphasizes the emotional connection they feel in this moment—boundless and all-encompassing.

"This isn't the abyss. Rather, it's a place filled with red flame lilies. This is Rafayel's color."

Now, this is MY interpretation, so take it with a grain of salt.

The "abyss" here symbolizes the emotional and creative void Rafayel has been experiencing--his lack of inspiration and his deep-rooted insecurities that leave him feeling hollow and disconnected. The abyss represents the blank canvas of his mind.

The transition from the abyss to the field of red flame lilies signifies a turning point for Rafayel. The flame lilies are not just a burst of inspiration, they are deeply tied to MC and the way she has reignited his passion BEYOND pain, both as an artist and as a person capable of love and connection.

By stating, “This is Rafayel’s color,” the narrative emphasizes that the flame lilies are uniquely his. They symbolize the return of his personal brand of creativity and vibrancy. It’s not about finding generic inspiration, it’s about rediscovering his own voice and perspective and MC doesn’t simply provide inspiration, she helps him unlock what was already inside him, and I believe, somehow witnesses the bursting of life inside him in her mind throughout the bond they share. MC serves as the guiding force that helps him reclaim his “color,” allowing him to see himself, and his art, in a new light.

Flame lilies are striking and bold, often symbolizing passion, love, and transformation. They’re an apt metaphor for Rafayel’s internal rebirth. Where the abyss was blank and desolate, the lilies are vibrant and overflowing with meaning, mirroring his renewed sense of self.

So, yeah.

And let’s be honest if you’re going to suggest non-consensual sex in a scene where MC flips him over, actively teases him, and metaphorically commands his every move through a glowing mark on his chest, then maybe it’s time to step away from the Reddit threads and reconnect with nature, maybe consider why you're intentionally picking on Rafayel like this.

He even asked, “Are you sure?” AND checked in with her later with "Are you comfortable?" -- all green flags here. If that’s not the gold standard of consent in an otome game, I don’t know what is.

I hope this was satisfactory, anon!!!!!

[x-necromantic-x]

(reblogging w/ my comments under op’s post to have it on one of my blogs)

hi!! this was my post that you're talking about! and wow haha i did not think it would strike this much of a nerve with some people, but it's always a good thing to see other people passionate about things i'm passionate about also.

a few things–

the post overall was meant to be lighthearted in nature, as someone who enjoys both the musical and the poem it wasn't really an us vs them thing. moreso a playful jab at people who made assumptions about the myth based off the musical (which, in my comments there were a lot of) and if you don't do that, the post doesn't apply to you!

in the pinned comment under the post i talk about how a conversation can definitely happen over the ethics of the situation, i'm all for interpretations of the story and enjoyed the people discussing the myth from the perspective of actually having read the myth or of being aware of it. whenever i corrected people in the comments, it was about things they got wrong about the material specifically, such as people saying circe used her magic to force him to bed or arguing about things a simple google search could tell you whether it did or didn't happen. If you interpret the text as being non-consensual, it was never the point of the post to say that your interpretation is incorrect! me personally though, i don't like the optics of circe being turned into a supporting/positive character if she was a rapist in the original.

I wasn't defending hamilton lmao!!! it was a joke!!! it was a bit!!!!

i also never said homer!odysseus was a horrible person! i very much don't think he is! to me, the point of the story is it's exploration of the human condition, and that even if he had faltered in his resolve to get home, that he still wouldn't have been a horrible person because any normal person in his shoes would have done similarly! i dunno where you got this bit but yk, js for the record.

your interpretation of book 10 in the odyssey is fine, if not a little lost on me. odysseus was certainly not initiative in the task of going home. of course, you can read and take away from it whatever you like, but– and i'm not trying to sound pretentious here– in my analysis class for the odyssey specifically we talked about how this section of the odyssey goes into the nature of human temptation when faced with luxury or an easier way out. Odysseus intentionally spends longer than he has to, a full year, and doesn't make the decision to leave until his crew bugs him and calls his delays “madness”. That doesn't read to me as them being like let's leave and he's like alr bet, it reads as odysseus finding reasons to remain on the island even after his crew is ready to go. you can find all of this in the text.

i never mentioned being fixated on the telegony either, all of my rebuttals have been centered around text and examples found in the odyssey itself. it wasn't really a gotcha moment with circe either, there's no debate that odysseus’ is one of history's great morally ambiguous figures in fiction, with or without her.

lastly, i think the odyssey is sooo romantic! a lot of your post seems to have misunderstood the point of mine fundamentally, and that's ok, i probably could have phrased it better! i think epic is romantic, i think the odyssey is romantic, the point i was trying to get at when seriously debating the storytelling of epic is that i think a lot of people miss the nuance that went into the storytelling of the odyssey in favor of a more sanitized, more easy to swallow protagonist. again, how i studied it, and how i believe the odyssey was meant to be read, is as a critical analysis of the human condition. Myths are reflective of the societies they come from, and i want people to be aware that the myths we read are a glimpse into what sorts of things people back then valued and strove for, how they're different from us, and how they're not. you mentioned having wished you’d studied the literature, and i think if you had, you would have come to a similar conclusion.

while i don’t think op misinterpreted my points intentionally in bad faith, calling me an asshole or saying i’m illiterate definitely made me raise an eyebrow. i tried my best to keep the conversations in my own comments respectful and productive, and hostility was definitely not the tone of my original shitpost. i think most people were able to talk about their perspectives and interpretations of the odyssey without going there. i’m attaching my pinned comments below for more context about the post itself

Some assholes on Instagram saying that Epic fans are "gaslighting" themselves about Odysseus being faithful to Penelope because of the Circe part and being pretentious about it and how we are stupid for considering The Odyssey romantic

Motherfucker

1. The Odyssey is an epic poem we all fucking know that? That it's a tragedy, technically comedy (comedy in ancient literature used to mean "happy ending", not funny stuff)

2. The Circe bit can be interpreted in different ways, as if it was fully consensual or not or just a transaction. There was still a difference in power dynamics, which was 100% mentioned by Calypso in the beginning, but if you choose to ignore that part if the same as saying some of Zeus' kids were ok to be conceived because the women agreeded to what A GOD wanted.

3. Obviously Epic!Odysseus is differente from Homer!Odysseus, but trying to say Homer! Odysseus is a horrible person that fully wanted to cheat on Penelope just because you want to defend ALEXANDER HAMILTON, i have bad news about you.

4. "The crew had to beg to go back!" I read the Odyssey too. As a child and a few days ago. They stayed on Circe's island to rest so Odysseus job as a captain was literally wait until his crew told him they were ready to leave, specially after what they have lived. Odysseus didnt force anyone to stay in that island, when the crew went "oh, sir, we miss our families, please lets go back now, yes?" Odysseus immediately said "ok". It literally felt like a father waiting for the kids to stop playing in the playground.

5. Homer!Odysseus is not perfect, at all (man killed his disloyal maids because he didnt want to deal with shit anymore, even if they also were coerced/raped by the suitors), but come with a better gotcha than Circe. You are just fixiated on the Telegony and it shows.

6. Idk what to tell you, but if you think renouncing a life with two inmortal godesses (one of whom offered you immortality), traveling for 10 years defying a God's rage, killing 108 men who wanted to marry your wife (and ruined your house), almost killed yourself when said wife rejected you only for her to go "haha i was just testing you, silly :)", have your literally marriage have a word created for you two specifically is not romantic... Idk go read Bridgerton

[jnnul]

if i say...i love you!

a/n: i saw the if i say i love you trailer and i am a CHANGED WOMAN. was going to make this for taesan but there aren't enough loser leehan fics out there. cranked this out in one day so if there any grammatical errors, pls let me know <3 quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 7.4k

tags: high school au!, losers in love, leehan is referred to donghyun, dongmin is a character accurate loser + menace, jihyo han/jihan best girl!, the bnd boys are chaotic and stupid, leehan is in LOVE, warnings: none!

THERE'S A FAT CHANCE THAT YOU'RE GOING TO ACCEPT KIM DONGHYUN'S CONFESSION.

at least, this is what han dongmin says when donghyun lays out his plan in front of his best friend.

"why?" donghyun whines, looking down at his hasty scribbles on his blueprint. "what's wrong with the plan?"

dongmin rolls his eyes, not even looking down at the blueprint (which donghyun had literally drawn out his plan on blue paper to make the entire situation more official - but dongmin just thinks its childish, if not a little adorable) as he pads into the kitchen to grab a snack.

"well for starters, i'm fairly sure that y/n can't read what you've written," dongmin says, two packets of goldfish richer when he returns.

donghyun frowns as he looks down at the paper before groaning, realizing that the hieroglyphics he'd written in place of legible letters were definitely far from interpretation.

"what do i do?" donghyun bemoans, dragging out each syllable. "by the time i work up the courage to confess to her again, we'll all be senior citizens instead seniors in high school!"

dongmin snorts before finally giving the 'blueprint' a solid look to decipher exactly what donghyun's plan was.

"your plan is to get down on your knees before first period and ask her out in front of the entire class with - are those chocolates or suspiciously small grenades? - chocolates and flowers? and you think that she's going to be first of all, comfortable with this and second of all, willing to say yes?" dongmin shakes his head, shoving a handful of goldfish into his mouth. "even if she does have feelings for you, she'll probably say no just because of this plan."

donghyun lets out another groan as he lays on the floor, cursing his luck. when he'd run the plan by jaehyun, the older had said that it was the perfect plan. although, if myung jaehyun thought that this was a good way to ask someone out, that really should've been donghyun's first sign of danger.

"also did you even need an entire sketch for this? i mean, it seems pretty straightforward," dongmin says, barely dodging assault by very well aimed marker.

"well, if you're done snarking on my plan, can't you help me figure out how to ask her out?" donghyun says, flipping over to serve dongmin his killer move - puppy eyes. the motion is clearly lost on dongmin when he just shovels more goldfish into his mouth but after a painfully long moment of chewing dongmin moves from the couch to the floor.

"alright, alright, fine...here's what you're gonna do..."

TRIAL ONE: DONGMIN'S PLAN

"hey jihyo," donghyun says casually, nodding to you as he spoke with your best friend, han jihyo. it was 7:30 in the morning and while donghyun usually couldn't be bothered to woken up before 7:45 in the morning (when he would eventually be yelled at by his mother and then scramble to get to school), he felt surprisingly excited to get up early in the morning to get to the school.

jihyo looks at donghyun confusedly as she takes her seat right next to you, where you had your textbooks open in front of you, just like he knew you would. "hey donghyun. what's up?"

donghyun shrugs, trying his best not to look at you scribbling away as he converses with jihyo. "nothing much. i was just wondering if you were busy later today? dongmin got us tickets to watch a movie but our friends dropped out."

"which movie?" jihyo asks, eyes sparking up at the mention of donghyun's best friend.

"uh..." donghyun wracks his brain, trying to come up with a movie name on the spot. dongmin hadn't prepared him enough! "interstellar?"

"are you asking me or telling me?" jihyo says, just barely suppressing her laugh. next to her, you look like you're in a similar situation, eyes bright and sparkly with the efforts to not completely laugh in his face.

while donghyun would usually take this in a win in itself, he decided to push his luck just a bit further. "i'm telling you; it's dongmin's favorite movie."

he pretends to ignore the subtle elbow jab that you offer to jihyo, fighting down the corners of his lips that keep creeping upwards. perhaps this plan could help donghyun and dongmin - two birds one stone. even if in this situation, dongmin was completely oblivious to jihyo's affections...

"yeah, i'm free later on," jihyo says before turning to you, her hair covering her face so donghyun can't see her facial expression as she's speaking with you. "you're free too, right y/n? you're coming with us?"

"i mean, i am free but i don't want to intrude. we don't even know if dongmin has enough tickets," you point out, a little shy as you look anywhere but donghyun and jihyo - which is a little hard considering that jihyo is practically in your face and donghyun is a good two meters tall (or at least, that's what it feels like).

"i have tickets," dongmin says, announcing his presence with an arm slung around donghyun's shoulder.

"perfect! so then we'll meet you guys in the courtyard at the end of school," jihyo says, fluttering her eyelashes not so subtly at the sight of the large man currently dangling off of donghyun.

he flashes an 'ok' sign as the two boys make their way to the back of the classroom, dongmin snickering at donghyun's dazed expression.

neither of them realize that you've turned around in your seat, a soft look in your eyes as you steal glances at donghyun.

+++

"i hate you," donghyun mutters under his breath. dongmin slaps his forehead with the heel of his palm, staring at the tickets in his other hand.

"you didn't exactly give me enough time to secure four tickets to interstellar of all movies," dongmin hisses, turning to flash a sweet smile to jihyo and you, waiting in the line patiently for some popcorn as the boys stood outside the theatre.

"well you didn't prepare me with a movie name! i did the best i could," donghyun whispers back, pulling dongmin to the side when an older couple tries to enter the theatre behind them.

"yes, and now look. we've got four tickets scattered across the hall," dongmin says, waving the tickets in donghyun's face.

donghyun sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tries to figure out a solution to the situation.

"what if we just bounce and do something else? there's no point in watching the movie if we're all gonna be on opposite sides of the theatre," donghyun says and dongmin frowns, looking down at the tickets once more.

"wait wait...there's two seats that are next to each other. it's just the other two that are on the opposite sides of the theatre," dongmin says, pointing out the seat numbers on the tickets.

"so y/n and i will sit in those seats, and then you and jihyo will sit on opposite sides of the theatre?" donghyun asks, reaching out to grab the tickets when dongmin draws his hand back quickly, holding them out of reach.

"what happened?" you ask, voice soft and gentle as you and jihyo walk up to the boys with arms filled with popcorn and soft drinks.

donghyun and dongmin exchange a look before handing over the tickets sheepishly. jihyo takes the tickets with furrowed brows after handing over (dumping) the soft drinks in dongmin's arms.

"hm. okay, give me one sec, i'll text you guys," she says somewhat mysteriously before disappearing into the theatre where trailers were playing.

"uh...i feel like one of us should go with her," donghyun says before pushing dongmin through the door behind her. the bewildered look on his face is quickly covered by the doors that cover him in darkness.

the giggle that leaves your mouth might as well been a choir of angels by the way that donghyun feels weak in the knees, unable to tear his away from your frame.

"here, let me hold that," donghyun says, gently taking the larger than life tub of popcorn from your arms. you thank him shyly, tugging your jacket over your shoulders.

"do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" you ask, a faint warmth in your cheeks. donghyun nods, tossing a kernel of popcorn into his mouth.

"i've learned that you should be kept far far away from horror movies," donghyun says cheekily. you pout, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"no one warned me that there would be that many jump scares," you complain, chewing on a piece of popcorn.

"i remember how you were shaking while the murderer was searching the house," donghyun laughs, dodging when you reach out to slap his arm. "you wouldn't let go of my arm until the murderer was put in a jail cell."

you clear your throat, trying to will away the heat that was building on your nape and cheeks. "interstellar doesn't have any jump scares does it?"

you look up to meet donghyun's eyes, only to realize that they're already looking into yours. big, bright, sparkly and looking at you as if he's trying to commit every detail about you to memory.

"no, no jump scares," he says softly, and suddenly you get the feeling that you're stumbling into a territory you've never explored before as he draws closer to you.

"um, that's good," you whisper, the moment suddenly too intimate to speak. donghyun looks at you for just a second too long before stepping back when there's a buzz in your pocket.

"dongmin and jihyo?" he asks, shoveling more popcorn into his mouth before you walked in, knowing that dongmin was prone to eating everything in sight when watching movies.

you nod, reading the text message out loud. "jihyo somehow convinced two people to switch seats so we've got seats all next to each other."

"cool. let's head inside then," donghyun says, the warmth of his body leaving yours. he pauses just before he enters the dark theatre, looking at you with a soft smile.

"and y/n? even if there aren't any jump scares, feel free to hold onto my arm."

+++

"what happened afterwards?" kim woonhak asks, sprawled out on park sungho's bed. sungho reaches over to smack him on the arm when woonhak opens up a bag of cheetos, only to spill them all over his bed.

"nothing, obviously. the fool started getting so into the movie that that's all he would talk about for a good hour before y/n said she had to go home and study," dongmin says, slapping donghyun upside the head when donghyun starts to contest his recollection of the situation.

"you're really stupid," lee sanghyeok says, accepting the packet of haribo gummy bears that jaehyun throws in his general direction.

"sure. but this is all because i listened to dongmin's idea. i was supposed to ask her out at the end of the movie in some weird, complicated speech that dongmin came up with," donghyun protests.

"see, that's your issue," sanghyeok says, wincing when woonhak rips the head off of a gummy bear as he eats it. "i don't know why you'd listen to the least romantic person in this room about how to ask a girl out."

"then what do you think i should do?" donghyun asks.

"well, as the only person out all of you fools with a girlfriend, here's what i think you should do," sanghyeok starts, holding up an ipad with a drawing on it.

"when the two of you are cleaning the classroom after classes..."

TRIAL TWO: SANGHYEOK'S PLAN

"uh, what do you mean that y/n's sick?" donghyun says dumbfoundedly. jihyo gives him a weird look as she continues to take down two copies of notes, confirming that y/n is most definitely not at school.

"i mean that she's sick. she caught something from her brother. she's not coming to school today," jihyo repeats, staring at her notes for a moment before continuing to write again.

"oh," donghyun says defeatedly, thanking jihyo before heading to the back of the classroom. dongmin appears in the doorway of the classroom not even two minutes later, lollipop in his mouth as he drops one on jihyo's desk before heading to the back of the classroom to sit down next to donghyun.

jihyo twists in her seat. "this is y/n's favorite flavor. i'll give it to her later when i drop off some soup my dad's making her."

"you're going to y/n's house?" donghyun asks, leaning forward on his elbows, looking like he was pretty close to toppling over the desk and onto the student in front of him.

"uh, yeah." donghyun scrambles out of his seat to head over to the front of the classroom where jihyo was sitting.

"can i come with you?" donghyun asks. jihyo looks at him strangely for a moment before craning her neck to dongmin behind him. it seems whatever she sees is enough to convince her because she nods after a beat of silence.

"sure. you can come too. i'm heading over after we clean the classroom," jihyo says, nodding over to where dongmin was sitting and thumbing through his phone with earbuds in. "bring dongmin too."

"why?" donghyun questions with an innocent expression, backing off when jihyo fixes him with an unimpressed look.

"consider it a favor exchange. my friend for yours."

+++

"you know what, i thought sanghyeok's idea was stupid anyway," sungho says over the phone. donghyun can vaguely hear the sound of weights being lifted and dropped and he figures that his college going friend was likely at the gym when donghyun had emergency called him with a need for a new plan.

"so what do you think i should do? i mean, i only have a couple minutes until jihyo comes out of her house after picking up the soup. how do i come up with a plan in the next three minutes?" donghyun asks worriedly, shoving dongmin away when he sees that dongmin's dangerously close to his phone, trying to figure exactly what sungho was saying on the other end.

"well, clearly food is out of the picture, since you don't have time and because you're a walking hazard when it comes to anything related to a stove," sungho says, more to himself than to donghyun.

"if you could come up with a way to help without snarking on my cooking skills, that would be highly appreciated," donghyun says drily, winding up to kick dongmin when he starts snickering from where he's leaned up against the wall.

"alright, alright. here's what you do, alright? first, when you get to her house..."

TRIAL THREE: SUNGHO'S PLAN

"you've seriously never been to tokyo?" dongmin asks incredulously, his hands shoved in his pockets. jihyo shakes her head, setting down the soup from where she'd just reheated it on your stove.

your parents were out of town on a business trip and according to what she knew about your brother, jihyo figured that park sunghoon was out frolicking around in the snowy streets with his own friends.

"i've never been on a plane before," jihyo explains, satisfied with the heat of the soup finally. dongmin just shrugs, looking around your house with a renewed interest when donghyun pads out of your room to where the other two were standing in the kitchen.

"is she still sleeping?" jihyo asks, trying the soup herself. donghyun nods, rubbing his hands to create some friction and warm them up.

"yeah. she seems to be waking up but i think that she's still pretty out of it right now," donghyun explains before picking up the container of soup. "do you think that you can bring the paracetamol? it looks like y/n has a pretty bad headache."

"how can you tell she has a headache?" dongmin asks, his question turning to a whisper when jihyo looks at him with a withering glare.

"it's called having empathy, han dongmin," jihyo calls out, looking for the paracetamol in one of the medicine cabinets.

"empathy? i have plenty of empathy," dongmin says under his breath sullenly as he follows jihyo into your bedroom.

you're laying in bed, curled up in carefully laid covers, clearly donghyun's work by the way he's examining the bedspread with rather severe scrutiny, as if he's willing the hearts on your bedspread would turn into mini heaters to provide warmth to your sick and tired body. your eyebrows are furrowed, even in your sleep, as though you were fighting away the illness with a physical weapon with effort.

"y/n? you gotta wake up soon. sunghoon said you've been sleeping for hours and that you haven't eaten anything yet," jihyo says, setting the paracetamol down on your nightstand.

"yeah, where is sunghoon anyway?" dongmin asks, watching as donghyun wakes you gently, offering you a smile so sweet, even dongmin feels himself swooning.

"gallivanting on the streets. he's still sick himself but there's no containing the man," you explain, sitting up in your bed. you somehow don't seem all that alarmed that there are so many foreign people in your room, looking worse for the wear.

"here's soup. don't worry, i didn't make it - jihyo's dad did," donghyun says softly, handing the bowl of soup over with so much care, it seemed as though he were handling a live grenade.

you let out a mellow laugh, coughing at the effort as you accept the bowl of soup, letting out a blissful sigh after sipping a spoonful. "tell your dad i said thank you, ji."

jihyo just waves you off, unzipping her backpack to search for her other copy of notes. "here are the notes from today. the biology lecture really gave me a headache so i wouldn't even try to decipher that until you feel better unless you want to feel like a tightrope walker with an anvil on your head."

"that's...really descriptive," dongmin says, laughing when jihyo shoves him.

"i can help you," donghyun says, watching you carefully as you take another sip of soup, thankful for the liquid warming you up from the inside.

"you're willing to sit with me to study biology? are you sure that you don't think it'll be a bother?" you ask, looking up at donghyun through your lashes. donghyun's breath catches in his throat when you do. somehow, even with a runny nose, mussed hair, and granny pajamas, donghyun thinks you look like the vision of beauty.

"it's not a bother to me. spending time with you could never be a bother," donghyun says offhandedly, looking at the label on the paracetamol. it's only when the entire room goes silent does he realize that he'd spoken out loud.

he looks around nervously for a moment before his eyes land on you, staring at him, bright-eyed and every inch the reason why donghyun has trouble sleeping at night these days.

"i mean, you're my friend, right? why would it be a bother to spend time with your friend?" donghyun backtracks and he hears jihyo and dongmin let out a breath behind him. you still look somewhat confused before you nod slowly, finishing your soup.

"friend, right."

+++

"you were at her house and you still fucked it up," woonhak laments, wincing when jaehyun chucks a pillow at him.

"language," the older boy says before flopping on sungho's bed next to woonhak.

"why do you delinquents always have to come to my room? can't we ever hang out in sanghyeok or jaehyun's room? or better yet, why can't we ever hang out at your guys' houses?" sungho complains, but he still sits down next to jaehyun, shoving the two boys a little bit over to make space for himself.

"because your room is the cleanest," sanghyeok points out, never looking up from the homework he was working on at sungho's desk.

"yeah, unfortunately sanghyeok's room is currently serving another purpose," jaehyun snorts.

"what, as a pigsty?" dongmin quips, a smirk drawn out on his lips when sanghyeok fixes him with a thoroughly unimpressed look.

"all of you are useless," donghyun wails, swatting sungho's hands away from his hair. "i've been trying to confess to her for a good week and a half now and all i've managed to do is make a fool out of myself three separate times."

"you didn't make a fool out of yourself, donghyun," woonhak comforts before jaehyun sits up from where he was scrolling on his phone, shaking his head.

"nope, he definitely did. the first time, when dongmin booked four separate tickets and jihyo had to save your ass so you could attempt to confess after the movie, just to ramble about physics and black holes for hours. and then when y/n never showed up to school so you couldn't confess to her while you were cleaning the classroom like sanghyeok suggested. and then when he couldn't even take care of her properly like sungho suggested while she was sick because he can't cook if his life depended on it." woonhak nods when jaehyun finishes his spiel, much to the horror of donghyun, who was now starfish on the floor, looking ready to throw a tantrum.

"yeah, i can see why she would think he's weird," woonhak says with an air of seriousness.

"you guys think she thinks i'm weird?" donghyun cries out dramatically.

"no, otherwise you wouldn't be going to the library together on sunday to go over biology," sanghyeok points out logically, flipping through the pages of his textbook with a crease in his forehead from focusing.

"see, the issue is that all three of those fools are way too subtle with their confessions. sungho's ideas especially was stupid," jaehyun says. "i mean seriously, telling her that you're half in love with her while she's gotta killer migraine must've been the stupidest idea i've ever heard."

"you thought that asking her out in front of the entire class was a good idea," dongmin reminds jaehyun, who just rolls his eyes.

"you guys have no sense of romance."

"i have a girlfriend."

"shut up, sanghyeok."

"damn, alright. i didn't realize all of you were that salty that you're single losers."

"SHUT UP SANGHYEOK!"

after sanghyeok has been served with enough slander for being an insufferable boy in love, woonhak and jaehyun turn to donghyun with twin expressions of evil on their faces.

"you need to man up, donghyun! here's how you tell her that you like her..."

TRIAL FOUR: JAEHYUN AND WOONHAK'S PLAN

"so the reason why this question is phrased this way is because you're supposed to focus on the oxygen affinity for fetuses versus adults based on this curve," donghyun explains patiently, pointing at various points on the diagram in front of him as he speaks.

you nod hesitantly as you follow his hand around the paper before ultimately shaking your head, slumping down on the table.

"i'm sorry donghyun, this entire thing might just end up being a waste of your time. i have no clue what any of this means," you mutter disheartenedly looking at donghyun.

donghyun just shakes his head, smiling as he closes the textbook and stretching. at the table over from the two of you, dongmin and jihyo are bickering about the best my chemical romance instead of studying for english like they'd promised when your teacher announced the upcoming exam on friday.

in the ideal world, dongmin and jihyo would be off being a cute couple (whether they realized it or not) somewhere where donghyun couldn't see them and be jealous but the effervescent feeling he gets from spending time with you is more than enough to douse that jealousy.

"you're shoving a lot of information into your brain. it's hard to get on the fiftieth try, much less the first," donghyun says gently, and you peek up at him, only to cast your gaze elsewhere when you realize just how overwhelming it is to look at him.

it's a warm feeling that spreads through your body as you realize that donghyun looks at you as though you may as well have put the stars in the sky personally for him.

funny. did he ever realize that you looked at him the same way?

but you're left to leave your thoughts with the disarray of papers when donghyun stands up, shrugging his jacket and scarf on.

"come on, let's go get you some coffee," he says, lifting up your jacket to hand it to you. you offer him a small smile as you put your jacket on, following him out of the library once he's stopped and dongmin and jihyo's table to ask them to watch your stuff.

"bring me back a latte!" you faintly hear jihyo whisper-shout, to which donghyun turns around to flash her a thumbs up before leading you out of the library.

the weather outside is surprisingly clear and warm for how much it's snowed over the past few days.

"you didn't put a scarf on?" donghyun chastises, unwrapping his own scarf and draping it around your neck. you try to protest, giving donghyun back his scarf but he just ignores you, expertly ducking and weaving as you try to drape the scarf back on him.

"you're going to get cold!" you exclaim, but you don't fight him when he wraps the scarf around your neck properly.

"you know, i wanted to be your friend since the day i saw you, back in middle school," donghyun says, his breath leaving his lips in clouds as the two of you walked the three blocks between the café and the library.

you wrack your brain, trying to recall the first time that you'd met donghyun. "i thought we met in high school, though? at jihyo's birthday party?"

donghyun just smiles, looking up at the clear skies. "that's when you first saw me. i saw you back in middle school."

"really?" you ask quietly, shocked by the knowledge that donghyun had been thinking about you in whichever capacity for so long.

"yeah. i remember you had braces back then but you still were the prettiest girl in class. you always used to be so quiet and kept to yourself but you were so sweet to everyone around you. i remember when jihyo found out that she was nearsighted, you used to write her notes for her every period until she got glasses. and then again, when she had lasik surgery," donghyun says casually, opening the café door as the two of you enter.

"you - you weren't even in our class," you say, shivering even in the warmth of the café. donghyun seems to notice, by the way that he draws closer to you - so close that you can see the faint freckle by his eye.

"no," he agrees simply. "but i knew anyway."

"you paid that much attention to me?" you ask incredulously. donghyun shrugs, nudging you forward when the person in front of you orders.

"i've always paid that much attention to you, y/n. i just don't think you ever paid that attention to me," donghyun says faintly. you feel weak in the knees at the insinuation, moving forward somewhat dazedly.

"a caramel macchiato, vanilla latte, an americano, and a hot ginger tea please," donghyun says, completely ignoring you when you offer your card to the cashier, swiping his quickly.

"you didn't have to buy coffee for me," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear. donghyun tilts his head, eyes forming little crescents at your gesture.

"hmm." the two of you find a table to sit at while you wait for your orders to come out before you turn to donghyun, curiosity blatant on your face.

"how did you know my coffee order?"

"like i said, y/n. i've noticed you for a while before you ever noticed me."

+++

"you had everything in place! why didn't you tell her about your feelings?" jihyo cries out from where she's sitting in donghyun's beanbag chair, dongmin sitting right next to her, squishing the poor beanbag to near smithereens.

"i agree with her! why didn't you tell her about your feelings?" dongmin exclaims. donghyun rolls his eyes, throwing the tennis ball in his hands at the ceiling before catching it and throwing it back up.

"why is she invited to this anyway?" woonhak asks, even as he offers jihyo a chocopie from the stash of snacks that sungho and jaehyun had gathered after raiding donghyun's pantry.

"because she's the object of this guy's affections for the past four years," sanghyeok says, pointing at jihyo and then donghyun. "it's good to get all of the firepower you can get, with how much a dunce this kid is."

"first of all, i'm not a dunce. and second of all, i haven't asked her out because i don't want to ask her out using one of you idiots' plan," donghyun explains. "i wanna ask her out the way i wanna ask her out."

dongmin sighs, shaking his head. "how is it that you're so mature and suave when you're speaking with y/n and you're such a child when you're with us."

"i think woonhak has cooties and donghyun somehow imbibes them whenever he's in a forty kilometer radius of him," jaehyun offers as explanation.

"shut up. you and i had the same idea for how donghyun should ask y/n out," woonhak reminds jaehyun to which jaehyun has no choice but to just nod along, munching on a chocopie.

"anyway. can we talk about dongmin and jihyo for a second. how the hell is it that y/n and i went to the café while you two were fighting like cats and dogs about the best mcr song and we come back to you to basically making out in the library," donghyun says, turning in his swivel chair to smile smugly at the conjoined twins on his beanbag chair.

"shut up!" jihyo yells, throwing a chocopie wrapper, only to incite more laughter from the boys when it falls to the floor pathetically.

"hey, to be fair, it only took us about two years of knowing each other to start dating," dongmin specifies. "it's just that the past month of trying to push you and y/n together pushed us together enough for us to realize that maybe dating wouldn't be such a bad idea."

jihyo and donghyun exchange a look (a threatening glare from jihyo and very thinly surpressed smirk from donghyun) - something, which unfortunately, does not go unnoticed by the rest of the boys. especially dongmin, who twists to look at his girlfriend with an unbelieving look.

"no way. don't tell me you also have some pining love story like donghyun," dongmin incredulously. at jihyo's silence, the entire group erupts into chaos, with sungho and donghyun (after feeling guilty) trying to silence them in vain.

"oh my god, just when i thought they couldn't get any more insufferably cute!"

"god, i hate both of them."

"why is everyone so bad at confessing their feelings."

"i'm gonna tell my girlfriend about this; she's gonna find this hilarious."

"i REALLY need to stop being single."

dongmin just ignores all of them, pressing a chaste kiss to jihyo's cheek when he realizes that she's gone bright red from the attention to her feelings.

donghyun mimes throwing up when he does so but can't help the smile on his face when he turns to his phone.

"anyway, anyway. back to the donghyun and y/n intervention," jihyo says, clearing her throat. she still earns a couple cheeky grins but manages to turn the gazes of the group to the individual sitting at his desk, frozen in his spot.

"what's wrong?" woonhak asks concernedly. donghyun just lifts up his phone to show the others in the room.

y/n (<3): hey, can we talk?

TRIAL FIVE: DONGHYUN'S PLAN

"y/n? is everything alright?" donghyun says, his footsteps masked by the snow that didn't melt from when it snowed again a few days ago.

you look up at him with a nervous smile. "yeah, everything's fine. um...do you wanna sit down?"

you scoot over to make space for donghyun on the bench you were sitting on. the bench faced the pond, somewhat concealed from the busy streets of seoul by the various coniferous trees that lined the public park.

"sure. yeah." donghyun takes a seat next to you, knee bouncing nearly as soon as he sits down.

"you look nervous," you say gingerly.

"you look nervous," donghyun echoes.

"touché." you fiddle with your hands, the evening suddenly feeling a lot colder than you thought it would be. donghyun notices, just as he notices everything, and for some reason, he shifts so that he's sitting on his hands. almost as he was physically stopping himself from doing something.

"so...what did you want to talk about?" donghyun asks, watching as a young child tries to escape his father's grip to run straight down the little slope that fed into the pond.

"nothing," you squeak out before shutting your eyes tight when you feel donghyun turn to look at you instead of the pond.

"oh. did - did you just want company as you sat outside for a bit?" donghyun stutters, not sure of what to do with himself.

"no," you start, before shaking your head at your own words. "i mean, i do have something to say. i'm just trying to find the words to say it."

"you know, i've been meaning to tell you something to you too," donghyun says tenderly and you immediately nudge him, encouraging him to go ahead and say his piece first.

"no way, you have to tell me first," donghyun defends, turning his nose up away from you when you try to catch his eye, trying to grasp his jacket to turn him towards you.

"i'm nervous, donghyun. can't you do me a favor and go ahead first?" you plead and donghyun melts, unable to hear any sort of sorrow in your voice - for whatever reason.

"alright, how about we say it at the same time?" he proposes and you concede as you nod, retracting your hand, not noticing the way that donghyun's gaze follows your movement.

he lifts three fingers, then folds one, until there's only one left. you shut your eyes, unable to see the expression on his face.

"i like you!"

"i love you."

you immediately open your eyes, jaw hanging as you stare at donghyun, who looks equally flummoxed by your words.

"you like me?" he asks, pointing a finger at you. you turn the finger back at him incriminatingly.

"you love me?" you gasp and donghyun's gaze grows tender, taking his other hand to trap your hand between his two large ones.

"for a while," he admits sheepishly, a shyness so uncharacteristic to the gentlemanly and smooth donghyun you were used to. "i've been trying to confess to you for the past month now. you just...never noticed."

you laugh besides yourself, immediately willing all laughter away when donghyun looks at you with a hurt expression.

"you've been trying to confess to me? donghyun, i've been trying to confess to you for the past month!"

"what?" he stammers. "you've been what for the past month?"

"yes, you fool. i've been trying to confess to you for months. i've liked you for months! and then when you asked jihyo and i to the movie, i figured that it was dongmin's scheme to ask jihyo out so i decided to use the chance to ask you out. and then the whole tickets fiasco happened," you explain, inching closer to him. donghyun uses the opportunity to thread his hand with your own, tugging you close to him so that his body warmth could envelope your shivering frame.

"and then you spent the next hour talking about the movie and you just seemed so excited that i didn't want to distract you. and you know, you're cute, when you're excited," you continue, grinning stupidly when donghyun turns away his head to hide his shy expression.

"so this whole month, you've been trying to confess to me too?"

"donghyun, you say i haven't paid attention but i swear to god, you are so dense sometimes."

TRIAL SIX: Y/N'S PLAN

"look, look," jihyo whispers under her breath as donghyun enters the classroom. you don't look up, not wanting to feed into jihyo's taunts, knowing that it would only serve as fodder for her teasing later on. you wait for donghyun to pass by your desk to the back of the classroom, where he sat everyday, staring out of the window rather than paying attention to any of the classes. any of the classes other than biology, that was.

but to your surprise, donghyun stops at your desks, talking to jihyo about some movie or another. a pang of jealousy that you try to swat away strikes in your chest before you hear dongmin's name and hear donghyun's attempts to keep from snickering in jihyo's face

ah. so he was just the messenger for dongmin.

you continue to write, not sure of what exactly you were writing anymore as you were trying not to make it overt that you were listening to jihyo and donghyun's conversation.

"i know you have tutoring today, but push it back until seven in the evening," jihyo whispers hotly once donghyun has disappeared from earshot.

"you have a movie date."

+++

"are you going to finally use this chance to ask him out?" jihyo asks when she catches you staring at the tall boy conversing with his friend outside the theatre hall as the two of you stood in line for refreshments.

"that's the goal," you respond with a sigh. "i don't know if he feels the same but i don't want to regret never telling him about my feelings."

jihyo nudges you softly. "hey, don't have such a negative outlook. you don't know how he feels, right? don't knock it before it happens."

you don't respond, watching donghyun chasing his friend around with a blithe smile, waving the tickets in the air.

+++

"i personally thought that the best part of the movie was when the dad ended up inside..." donghyun rambles excitedly, holding scoops of popcorn in his hands as he explains his theories to dongmin. you can't help the smile on your face as you watch him act so carefree and enthusiastic. dongmin nods along, explaining his own theory every so often.

jihyo's eyes dart between donghyun and dongmin before she slumps down, taking a long sip of her fanta. "somehow, i don't think that any level of confession is going to happen today."

you just laugh, content to listen to your friends discuss their favorite scenes from the movie before clicking your phone open, only to curse when you realized you only had a few minutes before tutoring.

"i'm so sorry - i have to get going!" you say hurriedly, gathering your things as quick as you can before you rush out of the theatre, wincing when you realize the amount of courage you'd have to work up once again to confess to him.

but donghyun just watches your uncomfortable expression as you rush away, unsure of it was his fault.

+++

you sit up in your bed, accepting the bowl of soup that donghyun hands you, trying your best to ignore the tingle of electricity that runs down your spine when your fingers brush against his.

your focus fades in and out of the comfortable rhythm of the conversation as you sip on the soup when jihyo drops the daunting copy of notes she'd written for you on your desk.

"i can help you," donghyun says, anchoring back to the conversation. you try not to show the fact that your heartbeat is now around the same decibel as a plane taking off, instead trying to deny his offer for fear that spending too much time together might cause to spit out the words you've been chewing on day and night for the past few days.

but something about the way that he says he's more than happy to help you and that you're not being a bother by asking for help makes you stutter for just a moment and in a second of weakness, you accept his help.

"friend." the word feels surprisingly bitter on your tongue when you echo the way donghyun says it, like its been dripped in lead in the way that it sits so heavy.

not when you wanted so much more

+++

"you know what, this will be the perfect timing for you and i to ask them both out," jihyo says, opening the door to the library as the two of you head inside.

"i still cannot believe you and him have been fighting like cats and dogs and you think that it's peak romance," you laugh as jihyo shoves you playfully.

"whatever," she says before turning to you, surprisingly serious. "alright, promise me that you'll ask him out. whenever i'm alone with dongmin, i'll confess my feelings for him so you have to promise that you'll confess your feelings to donghyun."

you interlock your pinky with her, only to drop your hands when you stumble across donghyun and dongmin, who are sitting with their heads together, looking not too unlike head-butting bulls.

"oh. have we interrupted something?" you ask through a stifled giggle, causing donghyun and dongmin to spring apart. you swear that dongmin quite literally is suspended in air for a good two seconds before landing once more in his chair.

"no, no, not at all. come y/n. you and i can sit here," donghyun says, pulling out a chair for you to sit in.

you try your best to ignore jihyo's gaze as you pull out your textbooks, ready to learn as much biology as you possibly could. and maybe put off any sense of confession for as long as possible.

+++

"weren't you the one who said that you didn't want to regret not confessing your feelings to him?" jihyo points out, stirring a mug of hot chocolate. you nod, slumping in your chair.

"i know..." you scramble to straighten your posture as you lean over the table to look at jihyo. "how did you ask out dongmin?"

she shrugs, uncharacteristically shy as she takes a sip of hot chocolate. "i didn't. dongmin asked me out."

you groan, sliding down your chair once more. "why can't donghyun ask me out? what if i just never work up the courage to ask him out?"

jihyo just laughs at your torment when her phone buzzes. she pulls her phone out of her pocket before reading the text message.

dongminnie mouse: donghyun's house in twenty. you're officially on the donghyun and y/n intervention squad >:)

she pockets her phone once more before sliding her hot chocolate over to you before gathering her belongings.

"where you going?" you call out, passing off the hot chocolate to your brother padding down the stairs. jihyo slips her shoes on before turning around with a shit-eating grin.

"to go and fix your issue for you!"

TRIAL SEVEN: FATE'S PLAN

"that's one killer best friend," donghyun huffs as he pieces together the entire situation together. "if only dongmin was as competent; we'd have had this conversation months ago."

you rest your head against donghyun's shoulder, watching as the sun slowly begins to start its descent into the horizon.

"i don't know. i'm kinda glad that things worked out the way that they did. what if i didn't feel as strongly as i do now? maybe this was all meant to be," you say softly. donghyun smiles, turning to look you in the eyes.

just as sparkly, bright and so full of affection as you knew his eyes would be.

he leans in close, just a breath away from you as his eyes never leave yours.

"really? and if i say i love you right now?" he asks, and you forget why you'd ever been scared to confess to this boy, so full of love just for you.

you lean in even closer, pressing your lips against in a sweet, tender kiss, smiling when his lips seem follow yours even with his eyes closed.

"does that answer your question?"

"more than enough."

[tuesday-teyz]

Butterfly Reign chapter 40 😧

Hi!

First of all, I just wanted to say how much I love Butterfly Reign—your writing is incredible, and I’ve been absolutely hooked from the start. I think I started reading when there were only about 10 chapters out, which feels like a lifetime ago!

I just finished chapter 40, and I’ve been thinking a lot about the direction the story took, particularly regarding Theseus and Wilbur. Their relationship has been such a complex and emotional journey, and I’ve really enjoyed seeing them work through their issues. Honestly, it’s crazy to think back to when I first started reading, and how I would’ve been rooting for Theseus to get his revenge, but now, with everything that’s happened, I didn’t expect the story to take such a tragic turn.

While I’m still deeply invested in the story, I’m curious about a few things—particularly the choice to have Wilbur die. I’ve been wondering, how long have you had this planned? I noticed the MCD tag from the beginning, so I’m wondering if this was always the direction you intended to take their characters or if it evolved as the story developed?

I’d also love to know your thoughts on Theseus’s actions here (without giving away any spoilers ofc). In the context of the story (obviously not condoning murder in real life 😭), do you think Theseus did what he had to do? Do you see him as someone who is still redeemable, or do you think that this was a mistake in his journey? I ask because, even though I’ve been the number one Theseus defender (his rights and wrongs) throughout the story, I found myself struggling with this moment. It’s the first time I’ve felt so conflicted about his character. I’m really curious about your perspective as the author, especially when it comes to the moral complexities in his decision.

Thank you so much for sharing this story— and I can’t wait to see what comes next! (even though i'm not yet willing to except that it shall continue BR!crimboys-less) at least give me hope for Br!discduo if nothing else

Hi, thank you for the ask, it made my morning!

To answer your questions, it's a little complex when exactly the decision came about. In my original outline back in 2022, this whole scene did not actually involve any fire. Instead, it was Theseus and Fundy stranded on the lake as ice begins to crack. Wilbur gets Fundy to safety first, and then when he comes back for Theseus, they fall through. From there on, there were two versions of this scene that I fluctuated between: one, Wilbur cuts the rope connecting them and lets himself drown, and two, the same happens but both of them get saved by a third outside force. This is followed up by Wilbur falling into a coma and being absent for the rest of the fic, sans the epilogue where we see him awake. Simply put, it was never my plan for Wilbur to be present in the final arc; he simply has no place there. His story was always meant to end in this chapter.

However, as time went on, I realized that using a coma is a very cheap (for the lack of a better word) way to write off a character, and his death by sacrifice did not feel right. As I mentioned in another post, br!Wilbur was, off and on, for nearly a decade, br!Tommy's abuser. To have someone who caused so much pain for him die saving him didn't sit right with me. Tommy was working for so long on accepting his past and unlearning the behaviors Wilbur brought up in him that it felt like an injustice and a poor message besides to basically say 'oh well he loved you at the end of the day'. And exploring his death from the point of view Tommy being relieved by it and feeling guilty at the same time is too repetetive of the story itself from when Wilbur ran away the first time. That's when the decision for Tommy to kill Wilbur was born.

So short answer: Wilbur's story was always meant to end at this moment. The idea for murder hatched during the travel arc.

I could not tell you exactly when did I realize that the plot was heading towards Tommy killing Wilbur, but I very firmly stand by the point that it's something that has been brewing up in the background unbeknownst even to me. The thing, Tommy has always been a killer. You have always known him as one (Clara was killed by him 3 years into the past), even though you didn't know his full backstory. An important part of this arc in its entirety is that it's Tommy unpacking and healing from the trauma he experienced 6 to 3 years ago. When Tommy gets sick and Wilbur takes care of him – that's 11 year old Tommy getting closure from Wilbur leaving him behind, and trading their family for the life of a commoner and a family of his own. It's not about them learning to be different in the future; it's about them mending the past. At no point at all this was meant to be about redeeming Wilbur.

Off to the next question: was this necessary? Did Tommy do what he had to?

Not at all. I address that in the chapter itself. I believe it's three different times that an image of Clara tells that Tommy must do it, meaning kill Wilbur, but the only time Tommy voices that thought himself (after the dialogue with Warden), the must changes to can. It's him taking agency over his own choices and acknowledging that he has this option and it's his decision to proceed with it. He tells Wilbur not to make excuses for him for Clara's death, knowing he's about to commit the same crime again.

As to how to feel about his actions – that's entirely up to you. You're not meant to feel a certain way about any of the characters, and especially not Tommy, but I am curious to hear your guys' thoughts and analysis. What do you think?

[pomefioredove]

omg i LOVE the concept of cookies as asks so can i have a sugar cookie, #8, with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows thank yeww 🙏

t-t-total idia victory!

order #8, sugar with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ internet connection

tropes: ex (mutuals) to lovers, roommate au characters: idia additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu

It was the closest experience to dating Idia had ever gotten, and likely the only experience he'd ever get again.

Three months.

Three perfect, blissful months.

That's 13.0357 weeks, 91.2501 days, 2,190 hours of chats, voice calls, and texts with someone he had almost considered his.

He was raising his confidence stats to ask them out when they sent him a message, which would be their last:

"router busted. sry. will get it fixed soon"

That was weeks ago.

Idia couldn't blame them. They were going to get tired of him eventually, and ghosting him, sucky as it was, was still the easiest way to let him down.

Then, at least, he could pretend that they were telling the truth.

"Come on, Idy! This is your chance! You'll never get over them if you never meet anyone else!"

Ortho's cheery, hopeful words twist Idia's stomach with guilt. He knows that. Of course he knows that.

He buries himself deeper into his blankets. "I don't want anyone else,"

"It's only for a few weeks. Maybe you'll make friends!"

Unlikely. Idia doesn't have the social XP for that. Who would want to be friends with him, anyway?

He can't even keep Magicord mutuals.

Then again, he has no other choice.

The Prefect had asked to stay somewhere with a high-speed internet connection while post-S.T.Y.X. Ramshackle was being repaired, and Ortho had volunteered Idia.

And his room.

Ugh. Why can't anything go right for once?

Idia hides under his covers like a small child, drowning the sound of the door and voices in PreMo.

He honestly doesn't know a lot about you. He doesn't get out much, and even if he did, you've always got those OP normie friends around you.

He knows you don't talk much. He's actually never heard you talk at all.

Whatever.

Idia only emerges from his blankets when his ears are ringing from the music and his body is sore from stillness.

He takes off his headphones and reads the room.

There's Ortho, projecting a beam of light on the wall, and there's Grim, chasing it, and there's you.

You seem a little out of place, awkwardly sitting on the floor when there are chairs and tables, your bags still at your sides, unpacked.

Something about you makes him feel at ease. Weird.

"Oh- Idy!" Ortho chimes. Idia jumps, and then everyone is looking at him. Crap.

"We were wondering when you'd come out! The Prefect has a question for you!"

You give Ortho a panicked look, as if to say you most certainly did not have a question for him. Idia has his own suspicions.

"About the Wi-Fi," Ortho chimes. "They really need to get online."

Idia narrows his eyes. His brother can handle something as simple as that.

"...O-okay," he mumbles. "I guess."

He reluctantly gets out of bed and sits beside you. At least with an objective, he isn't so nervous. You hand him your phone, some sad secondhand thing, and he puts in the password for you.

"Lemme know if it's slow. I've been working on upgrading the router, and it's been a little laggy," he hands your phone to you.

"Shouldn't be a problem, though."

You take it. "I can't complain, I don't have a router at all right now,"

Idia's face turns red.

His eyes go wide.

He can't place it, at first. What's that weird feeling? What is it about you-

You notice his expression. "Uh... did I say something?"

And when you speak again, just like that, Idia jumps to his feet.

"IT-IT'S YOU!"

"You?" Grim asks.

"You?" Ortho echoes.

"Me?"

Idia feels like he's losing his mind, his anxiety cracking and breaking away, shock taking its place.

"Y-yes, you! I know that voice! Don't you- you recognize mine too, don't you?!"

Your eyes widen.

"Oh... no... no way,"

"I-I can't believe this!" he says, suddenly grinning. "You weren't lying about the router, it must've got totally busted when S.T.Y.X- oh, crap. IT'S ALL MY FAULT!"

"Idy..." Ortho warns. "Your heart rate is-"

"I know! I know, I just- I can't believe it- you, of all people,"

He sits again, shaking. It takes you a moment to catch up.

"I... I wasn't lying," you mumble. "I've been trying to get a decent internet connection since we got back, but..."

"This is the guy?" Grim mumbles to you. He is ignored.

Idia feels lightheaded. This isn't real. This isn't happening. This is some weird dream.

He can't seem to stop grinning, anyway.

"Will you go out with me?!" he asks, without thinking at all. But not even the sinking feeling in his stomach is enough to ground him.

You stare back, your own eyes wide.

And then, in your familiar voice, in your familiar easing presence: "I'd like that,"