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cabotwife · 1 year ago

Note

hii !! i saw you reposted the 150 writing prompts, could i request a johanna mason x fem with the 20/21 prompt ?? thank youuu :))

thank you for request! sorry this took me a bit:(

Would've, Could've, Should've

Johanna Mason x Fem!Reader

warnings: angst, language(ig?), poorly written, not proofread

word count: 2279

a/n: i'm sorryyy this took awhile :( i'm not feeling good at all

prompt: "if you die, i'm gonna kill you." ; "i fucking hate you."

"you know, i can handle them," you mutter under your breath, your sprint reducing to a jog, and then eventually, you find yourself coming to a standstill. your energy, once abundant, is now diminished, barely allowing you to stand.

beside you your girlfriend is just as winded. the two of you had just run away from Katniss, chased relentlessly by the careers. you need to figure out how to get back to Katniss, back to your mission.

"enough with this fucking nonsense, we need to keep going, to lead them away," Johanna grumbles, her tone laced with irritation, clearly fed up with your plan.

"Jo, just listen to me for a moment," you plead, your voice strained. "we can't keep this up forever. at some point, they'll either give up and target the others, or they'll catch up with us."

Johanna's response is immediate and fierce. "then we fight back. i won't leave you here all by yourself. i don't need your protection, y/n." her words come out as a fierce growl, a testament to her determination.

"i won't fight them alone either. i'll keep leading them away, while you make sure Katniss and Peeta are safe," you insist, holding her by the shoulders, maintaining eye contact. you can see the protest forming in her eyes, but before she can voice it, you shake your head. "no arguments. just go. i’ll see you in a minute." you press a quick kiss to her cheek, a silent promise.

after what feels like an eternity, she finally nods, "alright, alright. i'll circle back." her eyes scan the dense forest, ensuring you're both still safe.

"i promise, everything will be okay," you assure her, your voice gentle as you let go of her shoulders.

she nods again, her eyes never leaving yours. "listen to me, y/n," she says, her hands cupping your cheeks before moving to the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair. her forehead presses against yours, her gaze intense. "if you die, i'm gonna kill you," she murmurs, her eyes flickering around yours.

a small chuckle escapes your lips, "wow, how romantic."

she rolls her eyes at your quip, pushing away from you, "be safe," she murmurs, stepping back.

responding with a mock salute, you grin, "yes, ma'am."

as she quickly disappears into the forest, moving in a slightly different direction to avoid the careers, your grin fades. the true gravity of the situation dawns upon you, and you press your back against a massive tree nearby, forcing yourself to slow your rapid breathing.

suddenly, a figure emerges from the shadows, charging towards you. you spin around immediately, scrambling up the tree you were leaning against. just as you begin to ascend, Brutus appears from behind the tree, his hand shooting out to grab your ankle.

your heart pounds in your chest as you cling to the branch above your head, struggling against Brutus's firm grip. Enobaria now stands at the bottom of the tree, her grin wide, showing off her sharpened teeth, as she watches the struggle unfold.

a scream tears through your throat as the rough bark digs into your palms. you try to pull yourself up, kicking your feet in a desperate attempt to free yourself from Brutus. suddenly, another hand grabs onto you, effectively pulling you down from the tree.

pain explodes through your body as you hit the ground, knocked flat on your back. the impact leaves you gasping for breath, the world around you fading as you lie stunned on the forest floor.

your eyes widen in sheer terror as you gaze upwards at the two menacing figures looming over you. their faces are painted with almost sinister grins that send a chill down your spine. you gasp sharply when Enobaria's hand shoots out, gripping a fistful of your hair with a force that has your head tilting back abruptly, leaving your throat vulnerable and exposed.

"no!" you cry out in panic, writhing beneath her as you desperately try to break free from her vice-like hold. "stop! no!" Your screams reverberate throughout the dense jungle, echoing ominously around you.

the last thing that your eyes register before everything goes black is the horrifying sight of her razor-sharp teeth and eerily unhuman-like eyes. she leans down towards you, her fingers still entwined in your hair, unyielding and relentless. suddenly, a deafening blast erupts through the jungle, sending the two older tributes flying away from you. the shockwave hurls you against a tree, the impact rendering you unconscious.

when Johanna finally opens her eyes she’s met with the blinding glare of artificial light and the gentle hum of a hovercraft's engine. the distant sound of Katniss's frantic yelling jolts her into full wakefulness, and she quickly sits upright, yanking off the oxygen mask strapped to her face and pushing herself up to a sitting position. she glances down at the space she was just occupying, her eyes landing on Beetee, who lies next to an empty slab. behind him are two more slabs, one of which she had just been lying on, and another one that is unoccupied.

Johanna furrows her brows in confusion, but decides to push her questions aside for now, focusing instead on reaching Katniss.

as the doors slide open to reveal Johanna's presence, every head in the room turns to look at her. Finnick's eyes soften instantly upon seeing her, a reaction that leaves Johanna puzzled.

"they left them!" Katniss is practically shrieking at Johanna, her voice shrill with panic.

"what?" Johanna's voice comes out flat, almost raspy. she turns to see Katniss, her body being restrained by Haymitch.

"y/n and Peeta! they left them!" Katniss wails, squirming in Haymitch's hold. "they left them for the damned Capitol!" she turns to Haymitch once more, her eyes wide with pure rage. "you promised me! you promised!" her voice rises to a desperate scream as she fights to free herself from Haymitch's grasp.

Johanna turns to look at Finnick, who hasn't moved an inch from his spot since she walked in. his eyes are filled with unshed tears, and Johanna knows instantly that Katniss is telling the truth. "Finnick," she says, her voice barely above a whisper as she fights against the wave of disbelief threatening to drown her. "you didn't." she starts to march towards her best friend, rage bubbling up inside her.

"Johanna, it wasn't a choice we were allowed to make," Finnick says, his voice laced with regret and sorrow. but his words only serve to fuel Johanna's anger.

just as she is about to reach him, a sharp sting pierces her neck. a syringe is plunged into her skin, and within seconds, her world fades to black as she loses consciousness.

the very moment you awaken a blinding array of lights immediately assails your senses as you gradually regain consciousness, much like Johanna. you find yourself in a sterile, white room, filled with a subtle, nearly imperceptible hum. unlike Johanna, though, you are harshly restrained to a cold, metal table. unlike Johanna, you are far from safe.

it doesn’t even take you a minute to comprehend your location—your predicament.

the Capitol has you. they had gotten to you before the others had the chance to reach you.

you were painfully aware that their mission prioritized keeping Katniss and Peeta safe. they were willing to sacrifice anyone, as long as the faces of the rebellion remained alive. a profound pit begins to form in your chest at a new thought. Johanna.

before you can further your worries about your girlfriend, the mechanical sound of the door to your bleak cell being opened shatters your train of thought.

you muster the strength to look at the figure entering your room, putting on a steely gaze—a facade you had been taught by the very woman you were worried about. the necessity of pretending not to care, to not show fear, to act as if you have nothing to lose, to refuse to give them the reactions they crave. they aim to strike fear into you, but you can't let them see the depth of your terror.

two men stride into the room, a peacekeeper following closely behind, who takes his position at the door. one of the men sports a near-sadistic grin on his face as he hovers over you, “what do you know about the rebellion?” he asks, his tone suggesting he fully expects you to withhold any information.

as the man in the pristine white coat talks with you, or rather speaks at you, the other man, dressed in blue scrubs, begins to wheel in a metallic cart. the contents of the cart are obscured from your view, but your heart picks up its pace as you can only guess what it contains.

“i’ll ask you once more,” the man in the white coat says, lifting a shiny silver tool from the cart, holding it against the harsh light as he speaks. “what do you know about the rebellion?”

“nothing,” you respond defiantly, almost baring your teeth like a cornered animal.

both men exchange a glance, cheshire-cat like smirks forming on their faces before the man in white turns back to you, “if you say so.”

before you can even process his words, the cold, silver scalpel plunges into your bicep. you clench your jaw tightly to suppress any screams of pain. don’t let them know it hurts.

“i wish they were dead,” Finnick breathes out, his declaration causing Johanna’s head to snap in his direction. he is seated, his head held in his hands, a vacant look in his eyes.

“don’t say that,” Johanna mumbles, pushing strands of hair from her face.

“it’s true, i- i wish they were dead. i’d rather they be dead than have to endure anything the Capitol is doing to them,” Finnick confesses, lifting his head to look at his best friend, his gaze appearing lost and disoriented.

“we’re gonna get them,” Johanna asserts, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifts her weight from foot to foot, “Katniss is working on it, she is. we’ll get them back, they’re safe.”

Finnick raises his eyebrows towards her, his face furrowed in confusion, “are you not afraid for y/n?”

Johanna scoffs, “excuse me?” her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “obviously I’m afraid for my girlfriend, Finnick! but she’s strong, she’ll— she’ll be okay.” the brunette's voice falters as she repeats the last bit, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself more than Finnick.

six weeks.

it took an excruciating six weeks to extract you and the others from the iron grip of the Capitol. six weeks of uncertainty, of dread, of pain.

those six weeks were a living hell for Johanna, filled with the overwhelming fear that the only person she’s ever truly loved might be forever beyond her reach. she was tortured by the guilt of leaving you behind, of failing to protect you when you needed her the most.

the question haunted her relentlessly - why didn’t she just stay? why didn’t she stand by your side instead of running back?

Johanna is with Katniss when Haymitch comes to her with the news they had all been waiting for - the captives had been brought back. it is a moment filled with a strange mixture of relief and apprehension.

without a second's hesitation, the two women sprint to the hospital room. Johanna arrives just in time to witness the emotional reunion between Annie and Finnick. but her eyes are searching for someone else in the bustling room that is suddenly just too loud, too crowded.

and then she sees you - lying in a hospital bed. your skin is unnaturally pale, your eyes dark circles of exhaustion, your body noticeably thinner from weeks of captivity. you are covered in cuts, bruises, and other open wounds that tell the story of your suffering.

your gaze shifts from the nurse, who is attaching your IV, drawn by the intensity of the eyes that are watching you. when you look up, you lock eyes with Johanna.

she sucks in a deep breath, her heart pounding against her rib cage as she takes in the sight of you. she quickly makes her way over to you, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts and emotions.

as soon as the nurse leaves your side, she takes her place, seating herself on the bed next to you. her hands immediately find your cheeks, her eyes scanning your face, trying to take in the differences.

“i’m alive,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, as you watch her reaction.

her eyes pause, meeting yours once again. “yeah, yeah you are. you did so good, sweet girl.” she whispers back, pressing her forehead against yours in a tender moment.

you hum in response, “don’t go soft on me now, Jo,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

the brunette pulls back, rolling her eyes with a faux exasperated scoff, “can’t even have a nice moment? let me love you, asshole.” she grumbles, her words causing a soft giggle to escape your lips as she interlaces her fingers with yours.

“i fucking hate you,” she grumbles the words, a familiar banter between the two of you.

“i love you too,” you reply, shifting over in your bed to make room for her. she remains silent as she carefully positions herself next to you, mindful of your injuries.

a soft, uncharacteristic smile graced her features as you snuggled up to her the best you could, “i’ll never let you go again, my love, i promise.” she murmurs, sealing her promise with a gentle kiss to your hairline.

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #the hunger games #thg x reader #finnick odair #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #finnick odair x reader #katniss everdeen x reader #peeta mellark x reader

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bxlladxnnabxtch · 1 year ago

Text

Bittersweet Savior

Gojo x Reader

❀🇲🇦🇸🇹🇪🇷🇱🇮🇸🇹❀

Summary: Things quickly go awry when you get sent on an emergency mission with your lover. When you both get split up, it's not long before this mission turns into a different kind of emergency.

Warnings: Profanity, Blood, Descriptions of reader getting their ass absolutely handed to them, Near death experience.

SMACK

The last thing you expected when you got sent on this mission with Satoru was to be launched through a wall by your fucking face. But as you blinked your eyes open through the incessant ringing and metallic taste on your tongue willing them to stay closed, you realized that this mission may have been a little (a lot) above your pay grade. The chewing out you were going to give Yaga after this mission might even rivel whatever injury Satoru’s going to tear you a new one for. At this point it seemed like the higher ups were trying to kill you.

You were barely able to stand up on shaky legs and a shitty sense of balance from your clearly concussed mind, but you managed. Alas, you stumbled, hand shooting out to what was left of the decimated wall for balance, as your other hand came up to use your technique. When, again, your body was shoved back in to the pile of rubble you had just climbed from. Your back hit the concrete with a sickening crunch, and a wail left you when you felt pain explode along your shoulder blades and cascade down your back like molten lava. Your head fell back, your neck resting at an odd angle as you sat locked in a world of agony. You tried your best to breath though it, but your chest heaved as you attempted to get your bearings. The next time someone at the school told you to fucking box breathe to cope during missions, was the day you would be put to death for murder.

The curse was seemingly toying with you as it stalked towards you with a sadistic grin, it’s skin a grotesque green with shell like shield formations covering it, It’s armor barely chipping against your prior use of your technique. You gritted your teeth upon realizing Gojo hadn’t returned since the cursed spirit had split you up with it’s multiple copies crowding the man. And if he was having trouble getting through multiple of them, it meant that this was a special grade, and your chances of getting through this one were slim to none.

Your body had become essentially numb to the pain as you backed yourself up the piled of rubble, your hands gripping the concrete as it sliced through your palms. You gritted your teeth, ignoring the crackles of pain shooting off along your spine as you tried to steady your breathing for the second time. Your hand raised as it curled into a fist, focusing your cursed energy into your palm as you let go of your middle and ring finger. Your technique manifested as a slice of wind launched towards the curse, cutting through the ground in its wake as it hurdled its way towards its target. You could hear it howl as it sliced through the air, tearing up the existing rubble and raking up pieces of it with its momentum.

The curse was flung onto its back as it collided with your cursed energy, throwing it across the ground, pieces of concrete and rock chipped at its armor as it was dragged further and further from you. You watched it tumble, rolling over a couple times as it’s hands gripped at the ground in a desperate attempt to slow its speed, despite the blade of wind actively shoving it further. Your technique only stopped when it slammed the cursed spirit into a building, the structure swaying at the impact as a cloud of dust and debris surfaced from the landing. A silence fell over the barren what once was a street, now more of a warzone, but it was short lived as you saw movement from among the cloud. It didn’t take long for the spirit to get up again, and your heart plummeted as you realized how little your technique did to it. It screeched as it got up, the sound piercing your eardrums as you flinched from the jolt of pain it sent through you.

A switch seemed to flip in your mind as you shot up, getting up off the rubble, deciding that it would be better to flee with your life than to try and fight a losing battle. Your palms left bloody handprints on the bits of rock and shale as you scrambled to get off the pile, feet clambering down the pile of blood-stained cement as you pushed yourself off of it, feet hitting solid ground as you broke into a sprint. You stumbled the slightest bit, but righted yourself as you attempted to fend off the violent nausea that plagued your sense of balance and direction. A steady burn started in your lungs as your fatigued body tried to keep up with the added exertion, your feet clapping against the ground as you ran with everything you had left in you.

Adrenaline shot through you when a solid object was thrown into your side, the shrapnel cutting through your hip and throwing you off balance as you were mercilessly thrown to the ground. Your body skidded across the tarmac as the wind was knocked out of you, coming to a stop as you hiccupped, heaving in a futile attempt to get air into your lungs. A grotesque wheezing sound came from you as you tried yet again, the strain in your chest finally letting up as you greedily sucked in mouthfuls of air. A sense of dread settled in the pit that had formed in your stomach, your throat closing up as a sense of panic took hold of you. You didn’t need to look down to know that the freshly made wound in your side was bleeding heavily, you could tell from how cold it felt when the wind brushed against it. You sensed that the absence of pain was due to shock, and that only meant that the injury was severe enough for your body to block it out. Your forehead came to rest on the hard asphalt, your body shaking from the shock your body was put under as you quickly weighed your options.

You assessed your physical state, and you really didn’t need to think too hard as you deduced that you were entirely fucked.

You had essentially accepted your fate by the time you had flipped over, and for a brief moment you wondered how Shoko would react to seeing your corpse in the mortuary. You felt the faintest sense of guilt at that sentiment, maybe if you had defected like Suguru, maybe you’d have been able to spare her the disappointment of seeing another one of her childhood friends exit the Jujutsu world, only this time in a body bag.

SMACK

That thought was quickly interrupted as the curse was kindly launched through a wall by it’s fucking face.

You didn’t even get a chance to process the relief at this development, as you saw a platinum head of hair pop in your vision and a hand come to pull his blindfold off as he stared down at you with those damn near blinding blue eyes of his. A grin spread across his features, a chuckle emanating from him as he looked you over.

“You don’t look so hot, princess.” He remarked slyly.

“Oh yeah, I’m great, thanks for asking.” You wheezed, hand coming to press into your side with a hiss. You flinched at the pressure, beginning to feel the warmth of your own blood flow through the spaces between your fingers. You felt the large divot that was now engraved in your side, and blinked up at Gojo when you saw his expression falter at the amount of blood beginning to pool around you. His signature smile fell slightly, silently examining you before pivoting around to face the curse head on.

“Just give me a minute to deal with this.” He said softly, and you nodded your head lightly. “Take all the time you need.” You hummed, a soft groan falling out of you as the shock began to wear off. You began to feel the steady thrum of pain throb through your being, squirming slightly as you laid on the ground.

You could hear the shuffle of rubble through the soft ringing in your ears. One second your eyes were on Satoru, and the next he had vanished, you barely had a second to flick your eyes over to the curse as you heard him sprint towards it with frightening speed. You saw his figure practically fly through the air as he cocked his leg back only to swing it at the cursed spirit. With a sickening crack, the curses head flew through the air, splitting it’s armor and leaving a stump in it’s wake. You flinched at the sight, tearing your eyes away as you heard its head roll across the dust scattered road.

You blinked and he was at your side yet again, face unreadable as he directed both of your hands over to your sliced open side. “Keep pressure on it.” He said, eyes flicking over your face as you laughed weakly. “Aww, c’mon don’t be like that, what happened to the cocky Satoru that never takes anything serious?” You joked, wincing as you obeyed his order, forcing your hands harder into your side. You struggled to keep pressure on it as you began to shake, hands trembling as they began to feel sticky from the blood.

“Shut up.” He scoffed, scooping one hand under your legs and another under your shoulders as he hoisted you up. A yell of pain left you at the movement, and his face fell the slightest bit as he adjusted you in his hold. “You’re pale, I’ve gotta get you to Shoko.” He stated softly, voice laced with a twinge of- dare you say- concern? Your laugh came out as more of a weak wheeze, head leaning against his shoulder as you stared up at him. “Yeah, I dunno about you but-“ you sucked in a breath of air, finding it getting harder to breathe as you gritted your teeth. “People usually get pale when they’re bleeding out.” You finished, eyebrows furrowing as a wave of nausea hit you.

A small smirk crept onto his face as he shrugged his shoulders lightly, your figure dipping the slightest bit with the movement. “I wouldn’t know, never bled out before.” He said with a huff. You snickered, shaking your head lightly as laughter wracked through you. A wave of pain hit you immediately after, and you tensed in his hold. “Ugh you’re such a dick.”

Your eyes slipped closed as you rested your head against his chest, feeling your surroundings change as you snapped them open again in surprise. You quickly took note of the beds that took up the room, and your jaw fell in astonishment as you blinked in shock. Your eyes flickered up to him, Brows knitting together in confusion as you realized what he had done. “Did you just-“

He cut you off, cocking a brow as he spoke. “Warp you to the infirmary? You really thought I was going to let you bleed out in the street? Wow, you wound me. Truly I don’t think I could ever recover-“ You cut him off with a soft slap to the chest, the action leaving a bloody handprint on his pristine white shirt. A groan sounding from you as you listen to him ramble about your subsequent betrayal.

“Just set me down and go get Shoko before you’re the one that ends up in a recovery bed.”

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whimsimille · 7 months ago

Text

POMEGRANATES

Jeong Jin-Man x female! reader

Pandemonium overtook the cabaret, and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering pierced through the cacophony.

Before you found refuge in the room and made a beeline for the closet, your eyes had taken in the eerie spectacle. The grand chandelier suspended from the ceiling cast ominous shadows that danced on the walls, their movements dictated by the tongues of flames consuming the room. Smoke, ashen and thick, curled upwards, a grim proof of the chaos below. It originated from multiple sources: tablecloths set ablaze, furniture upturned and broken, and bottles of discarded alcohol shattered upon impact from stray bullets. The stench was overpowering—a sickening cocktail of gunpowder, sweat, and blood.

One man clutched his stomach where he'd been shot; another woman sobbed uncontrollably near an upturned piano while cradling her head wound; yet another lies motionless near a pool of crimson liquid.

Imagining the worst case scenarios playing out of the reach of your eyes, you hope that whoever's shooting will miss their target.

But then again, if they did, they wouldn't have come here in the first place. This place was a haven for criminals, a den of vice—no honor among thieves—and it looked like someone wanted to reclaim the turf or send a message.

You didn't care about any of that; all you cared about was survival. And Min-Hye.

Through the cracks in the closet door, you watched in horror.

Bodies lay scattered like broken dolls, some screaming for mercy or moaning in pain, while others just lay still—dead or unconscious. It's hard to tell which is worse. Blood drips from their wounds and mixes with spilled alcohol on the floor as chaos ensues around you both.

Men in black tactical gear methodically searched each room, their eyes glazed over with a cold detachment that sent shivers down your spine. They moved swiftly and efficiently, leaving little room for error or hesitation. Their guns were cocked and ready to fire at any sign of movement.

Your Korean wasn't as good as your English to understand everything they said, but you caught enough to realize that they were looking for the girls.

Holding Min-Hye tightly against you, you notice how her soft curves nestled into your own body—the direct opposite of the flimsy lingerie she wore.

Your own clothes were practically torn to shreds from when they'd dragged you into the back room, and your skin was bruised and battered from their rough handling. But there was no time to mourn that now.

Min-Hye let out a whimper as the scream of a woman rang out, but you quickly grabbed her face and put it on your neck.

"Shh, shh," you whisper into her ear, gently stroking her hair as you try to calm her down.

The older woman shook in your arms, her frightened breaths hot against your neck. They were almost upon you now; you could feel their presence through the closet door, like a foul wind that reeked of sweat and gunsmoke. One hard kick and it would all be over. But you couldn't just let them take her—not like this. Not while she was clinging on to you so desperately, trusting in your protection. You had to do something—anything.

"You're going to be okay," you whisper, even though you know you might both end up dead.

Strangely, you feel calm and detached. Maybe it's the adrenaline, or perhaps it's because you've been in similar nightmarish situations before.

Growing up, your home was a battlefield. Your mother, with her razor-sharp words and fists as hard as talons, and your father, a drunk who spent more time stumbling than holding a job.

Your childhood was a blur of violence and fear—trying to drown it out with the solace of books. But that didn't stop bullets from flying and bombs exploding, or men with guns barging into your home, looking for who knows what. You knew how to survive in these situations. How to stay quiet and hidden, how to move without being seen or heard. You were an expert at keeping yourself alive, you learned never to show fear, never to scream, and never to go down without a fight. You learned to toughen up, to leave scars on whatever dared to harm you.

The closet you're in now is cluttered with discarded sex toys, torn dresses, and stained undergarments. Amid the chaos, you spot a pile of black leather items—remains of some BDSM act performed earlier tonight.

You quickly gather them, creating a makeshift cloak for you and Min-Hye to hide underneath.

“I-I’m scared!” Min-Hye interrupts your crafting, her head falling onto your shoulders as she weeps.

Without moving your lips, you pull Min-Hye's head back and gently remove the blonde wig from her head, revealing her short black hair that is matted with sweat and tears. You remember your own hair being pulled, yanked as a form of punishment or control. But that's a thought for another time.

"Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. Slow and steady."

Letting go of the cover, you find her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, hoping to transfer some of your calmness to her.

She must have picked up on your trick because she slowly started to mimic your rhythm.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the room as someone kicks in the door of the suite you two were in.

You hold your breath as you hear them approach your closet, feeling the vibrations of their heavy boots on the wooden floor. The knob turns slowly, and you flinch, expecting the worst.

Sweat begins to form on your brow as the door creaks open ever so slightly, revealing only darkness at first. But then, a sliver of light from the hallway enters and you see a pair of cold, impassive eyes gazing straight at you.

Your makeup smeared as you rolled out of the closet, your eyes fixed on the intruders—two men who stared back at you in surprise. You can see the shock on their faces when they take in your nude body and Min-Hye hiding behind you, her eyes wide with fear.

Adrenaline makes you swift and sure. Your hand snakes out, grabbing one of the discarded leather straps from your makeshift cloak and whipping it towards them.

The strap catches one man off-guard, wrapping around his neck and yanking him backward with a crack. He chokes, gasping for air as you twist it tighter, your fingers digging into his skin like claws.

Meanwhile, his comrade takes aim at you both, finger squeezing the trigger. But before he can fire, you dive forward and slam into him with a grunt of effort. Your shoulder crashes against his stomach just as a bullet rips through the air where your head was moments ago. You sink teeth into his neck to muffle his cry of pain until he goes limp beneath you.

The second man, dazed but still breathing, tries to bring his knife up, but you're too quick. His eyes widen as he sees your hands wrap around his neck and then narrow in anger when you squeeze. You smell the sweat on his skin as you twist, feeling his windpipe bend under your grip like a rubber band under pressure. You can hear him gurgle and wheeze for air—a pathetic sound that fills you with satisfaction. This is how it should be—every single one of these bastards deserves to suffer like this.

With a final crack of bone breaking under your hands, the man goes limp and drops to the floor with a thud.

For a moment, all is silent.

Your eyes land on Min-Hye, cowering behind the overturned table, her eyes wide with fear yet still following your every move intently.

From the moment you were unwillingly brought to this place, the youngest and the last to be ensnared, to be handled around Chinese men like a sex toy, you had taken Min-Hye under your wing, offering her the care that had been denied to you, even when she was 5 years older. And now, you would do anything to save her.

A sharp crack echoes through the room as more gunshots ring out.

Glass shatters behind you; someone else is breaking in or shooting through another windowpane. You barely register it as you kick the men away from you and push yourself up to your feet with a snarl. Your legs tremble underneath you but adrenaline carries you forward nonetheless.

You snatch up a shard of broken glass from the floor as another shot rings out—too close for comfort—and throw it with all your strength at a third assailant who had just entered through the doorway. The sharp piece hits him in the eye and he cries out before he falls to the ground.

You could hear others getting closer, their heavy boots stomping on the floorboards. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you tried to think of a way out of this nightmare.

You needed to get Min-Hye to safety, but how? The exit door was locked and there were at least two of them guarding it. The window was your only option, but it was high and covered by metal bars. And even if you managed to open it, the drop would surely break her fragile body. You didn't even know if she could climb or if the fall would kill her instantly.

A sudden thought hit you like a lightning bolt: the ventilation shaft! It led directly outside; perhaps you could squeeze through the tiny opening with Min-Hye and make a mad dash for freedom before they caught on to your plans.

Frantically, you reached for the fallen gun in one hand while dragging the unconscious men with the other, positioning them into a corner. It was a spot that was out of sight from outside yet still provided a modicum of cover while you prepared to make your bold escape.

“Damn it!” you hissed when you checked the gun, finding the chamber empty. Your heart sank as you checked the other bodies, but it was the same story.

In desperation, you ripped off one of their masks, revealing a scarred and rugged face that mirrored the cold determination in his eyes when he was conscious. You swiftly grabbed his discarded weapons belt, strapping it around your waist firmly, now armed with a knife and a baton.

"Y/N..."

"Shh, calm down. I have a plan," you reassured her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

Your eyes darted around the room, landing on a chair nearby. In quick strides, you rushed to it and jammed it under the doorknob. The chair was old and rickety, its wood groaning under the strain. But it held. This makeshift barricade would buy you some precious time.

Now, it was time to get Min-Hye to safety. She was still shaking, but she didn't resist when you lifted her into your arms, her bare legs brushing against yours as you placed her on top of the table.

With trembling hands, you started to unscrew the bolts that held the grate in place. The monsters outside were cursing loudly, their threats and taunts blending into the cacophony of the chaos beyond the door. Your fingers slipped several times, smearing grease and dirt on the metal, but you were determined.

After what felt like an eternity, the last bolt came loose. You quickly pushed the grate aside, revealing a dark and narrow passageway. The shaft was barely big enough for one person to squeeze through. The air inside smelled musty, filled with the scent of dust and rusted pipes, a testament to the age of the building.

"Min-hye," you said, looking at her, making sure to hold her gaze. "I need you to trust me and crawl through here, okay? Can you do that?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip nervously. “But…what about yo-?”

“Just listen," you said, cutting her off. You pointed down the shaft. "Follow it straight, then take the second left. There'll be an opening that leads to the alleyway behind this building. Wait for me there.”

"But..."

"Just trust me, okay?"

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn't question you further. With one last look at you, she crawled into the shaft.

You watched as she disappeared into the darkness, her silhouette fading until all you could see was the black void of the vent. You turned your attention to the pipes running along the ceiling. They were old and rusted, snaking their way across the room and disappearing into the walls. You followed their direction, guessing they led to the main water supply...which meant the main exit was in that direction.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Min-Hye called out from the shaft, her voice echoing slightly. "Why aren't you following me?"

You didn't answer her. Instead, you reached down and grabbed one of the knives from the belt you'd taken from the unconscious man. The cold metal was comforting in your hand; its weight was somehow reassuring. You tested its balance, swinging it a few times before strapping it securely to your thigh.

Then you turned back to the shaft, forcing a smile on your face. "I'll see you soon," you told her, then you closed the grate, leaving her alone in the darkness.

You moved back to your hiding spot, a small alcove behind a heavy curtain that provided somewhat of a shield from the view of the door. The fabric was thick and velvety, muffling the sounds from the other side of the room as your heart pounded in your chest.

Just as you settled into your hiding spot, the door to the room burst open.

A tall man stepped inside, his presence filling the room. He was imposing, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway. He was dressed in dark clothes, the material stretching over his muscular form. He smelled oddly good, like a mixture of citrus and nicotine.

His eyes were deep-set and intense as they took in the room, searching. They were the colour of storm clouds, cold and unforgiving.

You left your hiding spot, charging at him with a primal roar. He turned just in time to see you, his eyes widening in surprise. But he was quick—quicker than you'd expected. He grabbed you mid-air and threw you to the ground, his grip like iron around your wrist.

You groaned as you hit the floor, and the wind knocked you out.

He was on you in an instant, pulling you up by your hair and pressing the cold barrel of his gun against your throat.

Unlike the others, his eyes didn't rake over your nearly exposed breasts, or the blood pooling around your inner legs from being used earlier, or the bruises marring your body. His gaze didn't possess the leering, predatory glint you'd come to associate with the men in this place. Instead, his eyes met yours and held them.

It was almost as if he was assessing you, looking beyond your physical appearance and into your core. It was as if he were asking himself if you were a morning or a night person, if you enjoyed the silence of the library or the hustle of the city. It was as if he cared more about what you preferred, pink or blue, rather than the color of your lingerie.

You didn’t close your eyes or tear up; all that you did was look back at him through your damp eyelashes, smirking.

The man arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your defiant response. But to your surprise, he eventually let go of your hair and sheathed his gun. With a swift movement, he shrugged himself out of his jacket and gently draped it over you, his hands careful not to touch your bare skin.

As he bent down and lifted you into his arms, you couldn't help but think of the ancient Greek myths you had read as a child.

Now you were Persephone, trapped in the underworld of this criminal haven, and he was Hades. But unlike the myth, there was no pomegranate seed to bind you to this hell and no mother to plead for your return.

The only hope was your own survival instinct and the strange mercy of your captor.

Knock Knock

"Which cheese is the most dramatic?"

"Gorgonzilla."

"Correct. And which cheese is always on time?"

"Swiss, because it has holes in it, like a clock."

"Good. And which cheese suffers the most?"

"Grated cheese."

"Excellent. You may enter. Oh, and by the way, you're bleeding, noona."

Those are the first words that Jeong Ji-An utters as you stumble across the threshold of her uncle's house. Her eyes, glazed with the artificial glow from the television screen, flicker to you momentarily before returning to the unfolding nature documentary she's engrossed in.

It was something about lions in Africa; she seems to be really into wildlife documentaries these days. She always shares a few interesting facts about cheetahs that make their legs super flexible when running at high speeds and how they have spots to camouflage themselves against the tall grasses as they hunt for food.

As her routine requests, she's curled up on the worn-out couch, her small hands coated with a thin veneer of butter from the popcorn she's munching on. The rhythmic crunching of the kernels punctuates the silence of the room, the only other sound being the low hum of the narrator explaining the predator-prey dynamics in the wild.

"Hello to you too, baby.”

As you bend down to plant a soft kiss on her head, the scent of her strawberry shampoo and the cigarettes she smokes fills your nostrils, momentarily washing away the gritty stench of gunpowder and blood that clings to you.

You're not much older than Ji-An, but the bond you share with her feels deeper, stronger. She's the one precious jewel whose value is immeasurable. Maybe it's because she's the spitting image of Jeong Jin-Man, a tiny version of her uncle. Or maybe it's because she, like you, carries the weight of a world much too harsh for her tender years.

"Did you two have dinner yet?" you ask, changing the subject, trying to bring some normalcy to the situation. You glance towards the kitchen; the smell of something burning is still lingering in the air.

You can already imagine Jin-Man's reaction when he sees what happened. He'll probably grumble something about his niece not paying attention while cooking or being distracted by the TV again.

Ji-An finally tears her gaze away from the TV, her eyes lingering on the bloody wound on your ribs with an unspoken concern. "I did, but he didn’t. He was probably waiting for you.”

A sigh escapes your lips and your heart clenches with an emotion you can't quite name. It was always like this. Despite his gruff exterior and chilly demeanor, he'd always wait for you, working obsessively, neglecting his own needs until he was sure you were safe.

"And where's our workaholic now? Is he holed up in his room again?"

“Office. He's been engrossed in managing the missions with Pasin, poring over the site data ever since you left home at dawn," she replies, gesturing towards the closed door at the end of the hall.

“Is Pasin there with him now? They have been working together a lot lately.”

“No, Pasin left a while back. He mentioned that he was going to check up on Min-Hye at the safehouse first, then head to his restaurant. It's almost closing time there, actually. I should start getting ready for my Muay Thai class with him. He's been teaching me some new moves, and I don't want to be late."

"Ji-An, it's already past your bedtime. Your class can surely wait until tomorrow," you attempt to reason with her, casting a worried glance at the vintage clock hanging on the wall. Its hands were inching closer to midnight.

"But noona," she protests, her voice taking on a whiny tone too high for a 17-year-old girl. She puffs out her cheeks and bats her eyelashes, a well-practiced display of aegyo. "I've been practicing my punches and kicks all day. I'm so excited to show him the progress I've made. I just can't wait!"

You sigh, a fond smile tugging at your lips. You know when you've lost this battle. Ji-An's determination was always a force to be reckoned with.

"Alright, but on one condition," you stipulate. "You must promise me you won't mention this late-night training session to Jin-Man, okay?"

Her eyes twinkle with mischief as she grins widely, revealing her perfectly aligned teeth. "I promise, noona. Your secret is safe with me. Furthermore, you once again have a battlefield odor."

You chuckle, your hand reaching up to affectionately ruffle her slightly messy hair. "Alright, alright. I hear you, Ji-An. But… before you go," you add, holding up a finger to catch her attention as she's about to spring up from the couch. "I need you to do a few things for me."

She looks at you expectantly, a frown forming on her forehead. "What is it, Noona?"

"First, go put some warm clothes on. It's cold outside, and I don't want you to catch a cold. Second, remember to turn off the TV before you leave. And finally," you say, pointing at the pile of dishes in the sink, "wash the dishes. We can't have ants invading our kitchen."

She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. "But noona-"

"I know, Ji. But we all have to do things we don't like. It's part of being responsible. Now, go on. I need to get cleaned up."

“Yes, mom.”

With a dramatic sigh, she nods, pushing herself off the couch to do as you instructed. You watch her go, a small smile on your face. She may be a handful at times, but she always listens to you in the end.

Turning your attention back to yourself, you head towards the bathroom.

As soon as you open the door, you take off your jacket and immediately spit out blood into the sink, wincing at the sound of it hitting the porcelain like a bullet casing echoing through an empty chamber.

There's a persistent ringing in your ears—maybe from gunshots, screams or just stress. But it doesn't matter now. You grab a bottle of painkillers from under the sink and swallow two dry, feeling them slide down your throat like tiny pebbles.

Caught in the mirror is an unflattering reflection: dark circles like bruised moons under your eyes, mascara smeared across your lids like the inky strokes of a careless painter, strands of long hair, reeking of sweat and clinging to your forehead. Dirt is caked under your fingernails, souvenirs of the hours spent digging through the earth looking for something you weren't supposed to find.

Your hand reaches for a washcloth, dipping it into the warm water as you lean against the sink for support while taking stock of your wounds. Your skin is scraped raw from crawling through unmarked graves and dodging bullets; there's a deep cut on your left thigh and shallow ones along your arms where you used them for cover. Your ribs ache where that bastard shot you, but at least it was only grazed. That bullet could have done some real damage if it had been an inch to the left. You grit your teeth against the pain and scrub away the blood with vigor.

Despite the pain and the exhausting work, nothing can change the fact that you did what needed to be done. Murthehelp is always like this—dirty, dangerous, and hazy at times—but someone has to do it. And you do it very, very well.

A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Jeong Ji-An pokes her head in. "Do you need anything else before I head out, noona?" She asks curiously and her face softens when she sees the bandages peeking from under your torn shirt, her mouth turning down into a worried frown.

"No," you reply with a small, weary smile. "Just admiring my handiwork."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't comment—she knows better than anyone how tough life can be sometimes. You can hear her rustling around in her room before returning with some clean clothes for you and announcing that she turned off the TV and did the dishes like a good girl.

“Great, baby."

Looking down, you see the baby blue lacy pajamas she knows you love to wear.

"It's your favorite, right, noona?" She says this, holding up the soft fabric. "And you know, Uncle Jin-Man always says you look nice in these." She adds with a teasing smile. “Maybe wearing these will make him less angry at you for coming home shot again."

You laugh at that, despite the pain it causes in your ribs. "I'll keep that in mind, Ji-An. Thanks for the tip."

With that, she gives you a quick, warm smile, her eyes twinkling with that youthful mischief, before she heads for the door. "Don't let him put you in a wheelchair. I like it when you’re able to walk, you know. It’s not as fun when you’re all bandaged up and grumpy.”

“Yah! Jeong Jin-An!” You shout, feigning anger. But the girl was already gone, her laughter echoing in the hallway.

“That brat…” You mutter under your breath, a small smile playing on your lips despite the pain.

Gently, you peel off your clothes, the fabric sticking to your sweat-drenched skin. You leave them in a crumpled heap on the floor.

With a sigh, you sink into the water, wincing slightly as it stings your fresh wounds. Yet soon, the warmth starts to seep into your muscles, loosening the knots of tension and easing the throbbing pain.

There, in the bathtub, you lower your head beneath the water, closing your eyes and holding your breath. You imagine what it would be like to be this weightless always. It's quiet and warm, and your mind is empty of anything other than the comforting lull of the water against your skin.

You think about how every inch of your body screams in agony, and how, in this moment, submerged in this warm bath, the pain is bearable. You entertain the thought of what it would be like to let go, to surrender to the quiet peace of the water.

Then, your mind wanders to the feeling of the porcelain against your skin. You recall a memory from a few weeks ago when you were sitting in a bathtub similar to this, and only then were you engaged in a deep conversation with Min Hye. Her voice was punctuated by the sound of her smoking, the bright red lipstick staining the cigarette’s filter. There, you weren't holding your breath. You were telling yourself to remember that moment, how it made you feel alive despite the danger lurking outside your door.

You think about the bruises on your knees, the deep purple and blue hues, the tenderness you feel when they brush against each other and even though they hurt, they'll fade in a few days, just like the pain from your past.

You think of how your lungs are starting to ache, and it reminds you of running through the park with your sister, rolling down a hill and picking leaves from each other's hair. You then think of the day she died, how you held her lifeless body in that same park, and how the world seemed too cruel and too big.

It was like the earth was mourning for her, groaning, opening up its foundations like an old and creaky house, revealing its rotting insides. And yet the wind, the rain and the cold weren’t the cause of the shivers that raked her body, making her hands tremble and her eyelids twitch.

A body left to rot, to return to the soil, to turn into dust. A name scratched from the books. A face lost to the turning tides of history.

You contemplate all these things and more. You ponder everything that comes with living and being alive. All the things that hurt, sting and break skin, and then all the things that are light, gentle and happy. You weigh the two in your hands; the pain and the joy are so intertwined that they're impossible to separate.

After what seems like an eternity, the water begins to turn a pale pink from the blood seeping out of your wounds. Your skin is raw and red, stinging from the hot water and the rough scrubbing. Despite the pain, you can't help but feel a little cleaner, a little less tainted by the night's events.

Slowly, you pull the plug and let the water drain, watching as the pink swirls spiral down the drain until only a few droplets remain.

You reach for a towel, wrapping it around your body and wincing as the rough fabric brushes against your tender skin. The mirror is fogged up, but you don't need to see your reflection to know the extent of your injuries.

Moving to the sink, you retrieve a first-aid kit and start to stitch up the deeper cuts. The process is tedious and painful, but you've done it countless times before. Your hands shake slightly, but the thread goes through the skin with practiced ease. Once the stitching is done, you clean the area one more time before applying a bandage over it.

Dried off and bandaged, you put on the pajamas and head to Jin Man’s office.

The office door is slightly ajar, revealing the familiar sight of his desk cluttered with papers and screens, each displaying different angles of surveillance footage or diagrams.

A map of Seoul sprawls across the large desk, littered with notes, files and printouts from their last job. On the screen of his computer are grainy photos taken from a distance; they appear to be of two men meeting in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. One man has his back turned towards the camera while the other gestures wildly with his hands, most likely giving orders or directions.

You push the door open further and step inside, wincing at the loud squeak it makes under your weight. It needs oiling.

Jeong doesn't even seem to notice or mind; he's too absorbed in whatever he's working on. A half-empty cup of cold coffee sits on his desk, the steam long since dissipated, next to a plate with crumbs from a hastily eaten sandwich that looks like it was abandoned mid-bite.

You take a moment to appreciate how he wears his work like a second skin—it defines him, molds him into something almost apart from human—and you feel a pang of guilt for disrupting his routine like this.

His office smells metallic and antiseptic; it's always been like that since you can remember. Not unpleasant but not inviting either; it matches his personality perfectly. Outside, the world continues its mad rush of people, cars and noise. But here, there's just the hum of machinery from his computer and occasional typing noises.

"Done playing the tough guy, huh?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"You walk like a cat," he replies, not missing a beat, "And after a shower, you always smell like a mix of vanilla and lavender. It's a comforting scent, but it doesn't cover the stench of danger that follows you."

His words hang in the air, adding an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere. You watch him, taking in his stern expression and the way his fingers dance over the keyboard. His words are stoic, almost passive-aggressive, but you know him well enough to see the flash of worry behind his icy demeanor.

"Could you at least look at me when you're lecturing me?" You snap, regretting the bitter edge in your voice the moment it escapes your lips.

He finally looks up, his eyes hard and unreadable. "I'm not lecturing you. I'm merely stating the facts."

Surpised, you watch as he fixes his table, clearing a space amidst the clutter. It's a spot you know well, a space you've occupied many times in the past. It's an unspoken invitation, a silent concession on his part. Despite his harsh words, he's still making room for you.

You hop onto the table, wincing slightly at the sharp pain that flares up from your ribs. He doesn't comment on it, keeping his attention fixed on his work, but you notice the slight tightening of his jaw.

Provoked by his dismissive attitude, you reach for a lighter and a lone cigarette that's been left on the edge of his cluttered desk. It's a mint flavored one, you notice, the kind Ji-An prefers and sneaks in from time to time, despite her uncle's constant disapproval.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" You challenge, striking the lighter and bringing the small flame to the end of the cigarette. The pungent smell of the tobacco fills the room as you take a deep breath, the smoke curling in the air around you.

He finally takes a long sip of his coffee before turning to look at you. "No," he says finally, "it's supposed to make you think. Think about your reckless actions and the consequences. Think about the people who care about you and worry about you. You could have avoided this," he adds, his gaze dropping to your bandaged ribs, "if you had answered my calls or asked Pasin for reinforcements."

"I was handling it just fine. I don't need a babysitter."

"Do you think this is a game?" He hisses, his icy composure finally breaking. "Do you think you're invincible?"

"You're not the only one who can handle a mission, Jin-Man," you snap back, ashing the cigarette on his pristine desk. "I can take care of myself."

In a split second, he’s on his feet. He moves so fast that you barely have time to react. One moment he's sitting behind his desk, and the next he's standing in front of you, his hands on your knees, forcing your legs apart to make space for him. He steps in between them, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

Before you can utter another word, he pulls out a knife from his pocket, a switchblade with a sleek, matte black finish that glints ominously under the harsh fluorescent lights. He presses the cold, razor-sharp blade against the tender skin of your throat. His touch is light, but you know he can cut deep if he wants to.

Simultaneously, he snatches the cigarette from your hand, crushing it under his boot. The smell of burnt nicotine fills the air, mixing with the sterile scent of his office.

“Hey! I need my nicotine fix-”

“Quiet!" he hisses. “I don't know if your goal is to live only for 2 or 3 years more, but you're so reckless, and you're going to get yourself killed one of these days."

The words hang heavy in the silent room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare back at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's close—so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. His jeans brush against your bare legs, and you can't help but shiver, feeling the wetness between your legs spread.

"I didn't save you from that cabaret to watch you bleed out. I didn't let you raise my niece as your daughter, only to let her see you getting home wounded. I didn't invite you into my and Ji-An’s lives just for you to get yourself killed." A thin line of blood appears where the blade grazes harder against your skin, but, no, he doesn't pull away; he's only watching as it blooms red against the pale expanse of your neck.

"You don't get to decide what I can and can't handle. I'm not the damsel in distress you saved from that grimy cabaret. I'm not your innocent niece who needs protection. I'm not your responsibility. I'm a killer, just like you."

"And what if you are? What if you're more than just a responsibility to me? I don't even know where you end and I begin." He moves his face closer to your collarbones, and his tongue darts out to taste the saltiness left behind by the blood trickling down from the cuts on your neck. It's a possessive kiss—like he wants to claim every part of you as his own.

Suddenly, you are very aware that he is a man who's been through hell and back—not just with the scars from bullets and knives but also from the way his eyes seem to hold so much pain yet desperation for something more.

"I'm tired of watching you put yourself in danger. You can't keep doing this."

For the first time in years, Jin Man sounds truly vulnerable. His gaze stays locked on yours as if waiting for an answer or maybe hoping you'll finally say something that will change his mind about caring for you. But all you can do is breathe in the scent of his cologne, which mixes with sweat.

You feel yourself slipping away from sanity, wanting him to save you from the chaos within yourself.

"I don’t need someone but myself.”

He sighs heavily.

His large hands shake as they grip your knees tightly for support as he leans against them, staring down at your groin, taking in your arousal staining the PJ shorts.

“Yeah? Can you take care of this yourself, too?”

Pulling the blade out of your throat, he carries on, pressing the blade against your skin gently, tracing it along one hipbone, then the other, as if he needs to make sure everything is okay down there. His hand brushes against the tender skin of your thighs before slipping inside your shorts to touch where you're wet from anticipation and fear mingled together.

It's intimate but also terrifying—you can't help but squirm under his touch as he traces the outline of your labia teasingly while looking straight at you with those dark eyes that have haunted your dreams for months now.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stop it from trembling as he starts cutting through the fabric of your shorts, and you hear the soft rip of cotton tearing apart.

The air in the room feels heavy with anticipation and tension as he caresses your mound before pushing inside. It's cold against your heated skin, making you squirm slightly under his touch.

The knife glides through your folds effortlessly, causing you to gasp in surprise when it hits something soft and sensitive inside you.

He withdraws the blade slowly, the cold metal leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. A small cut on your flesh blossoms like a tiny crimson flower, the evidence of his intrusion.

A bead of blood forms at the edge of it, growing in size until it's too heavy to cling to the blade. It drips onto the floor between your legs.

With a calculated motion, he discards the bloodied knife onto his desk, the clattering sound echoing in the charged silence of the room.

"So experienced yet so innocent. My little lamb," he murmurs, breath hot against your neck as he smears his finger on the little pool of sweet nectar seeping from between your folds.

"What are you doing?"

His dick strains in his trousers, throbbing at the unsure, confused tone that layers your question. It sears through him like a midsummer heatwave—the flash of bright sunlight after the clouds of a storm have parted. Jesus, you’re too good at this; you know exactly how to get under his skin.

“Teaching you to not play with fire.”

It's clear he's not going to let you hide behind a wall of anger and defiance anymore. Each word he says seems to peel away another layer of your armor, exposing something raw and fragile underneath. Something that craves his touch, even when it hurts.

"Ouch!" You exclaim sharply as his strong hand grips your arm, yanking you around and forcing you to stand upright again. The abruptness of the movement causes a jolt of pain to shoot through your body, making you wince.

Before you have a chance to protest or push him away, you're bent forward, your chest pressing against the cool, polished wood of his desk. You try to push yourself back up, but you're stopped by a firm hand pressing down between your shoulder blades, effectively pinning you in place.

“Stay still.”

You let out a whimper, your hips instinctively shifting in response to his forceful command. Slowly, you let your body go limp, surrendering to the dominating position that Jin-Man has forced you into.

“Do you know,” the man begins, fingers trailing down your lithe back, along the length of your spine, all the way down until his fingers can tuck under the hem of the rest of your shorts, "that in the old days, rulers like this were not just used for measurement?"

You know it. But you won’t answer; you won’t give him the taste. So you shake your head and make a whining sound as your boss begins to push the fabric down over the swell of your ass.

"They were also used for discipline against wayward children.”

Your whole body shivers.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Long lines of red across your thighs and ass marks to remind you not to act like such a slut…” Jeong emphasizes the words with the drag of nails against the newly-bared skin. “You’re just asking to be punished.”

Shaking your head again, you try to deny the accusation.

“Oh,” the man says, feigning surprise and removing his hand from your backside. “You don’t? You don’t want me to spank you for your insolence today? You want me to stop?”

There’s a small thudding sound as you let your head bump into the desk a couple of times in self-punishment. When you speak, the words are straining and shaking. “N-No, Sir.”

“What was that?”

You groan in frustration. “Yah, Jeong Jin-Man, come on! Ah!”

Fingers wound tightly in your hair, Jin Man pulls your head back from the desk, baring your bruised neck. “Excuse me?”

“Sir! Sir, I’m sorry; please, I’ll be good, I–” You mumble, probably aiming for politeness, but the words come out more sulky than you likely intended.

Jeong Jin-Man ignores it in favour of getting your bloodied shorts down, pushing them over your thighs until they fall to a puddle on the floor around your ankles. Spreading the cheeks, he can see your stretched and cut pussy, can see the throb of your clit, your smaller, puckered hole also smeared with wetness from just how much you had been oozing out.

Lifting his gaze, he surveys the room meticulously. His eyes linger on the worn-out leather chair with its loose stitching, the stacks of paperwork teetering precariously on the edge of his desk, and the dimly lit ceiling lamp that casts long, sinister shadows on the wooden floor. His gaze then falls on a wooden ruler resting among a chaotic array of stationery in an open drawer.

He reaches out, his fingers wrapping around it and lifting it from its resting place. He turns it over in his hand, feeling the rough texture of the worn wood against his skin. He tests its weight, swishing it through the air and listening to the soft whooshing sound it makes.

He thinks he will only stop once your ass and the backs of your thighs are neatly lined in red, with touches of crimson and purpling spots showing through the skin where patches of bruising are going to form.

Jin Man knows your skin has always been easy to mark, flaring eagerly with scarlets, pale rose and smatterings of plum. The warm colours are quick to fade, replaced by blues and greens, mottled yellows that cover the fragile arcs of your cartilage, flesh pasted with echoes of tender, affectionate violence.

It’s so pretty, so lovely. He has always preferred charcoal and pencils when setting something on paper, but when it comes to this particular canvas, he likes to paint.

His free hand settles on your ass, squeezing it hard and leaving his large palm impression on your skin, making your lips quiver.

"One," he says, and the sting is immediate as the ruler hits your right cheek, leaving a blossom of searing pain that radiates across your body, making you gasp. "Two," he continues, and this time the ruler hits your left cheek, making you shudder violently.

The sting is fierce but not enough to distract from the strange pleasure that courses through you. You can feel yourself getting wetter with each strike.

"Three." He slaps your left side, causing a wave of heat to wash over you as he repeats it on the other side.

The room seems to echo with the sounds of his hand connecting with your flesh. This time he doesn't stop at five but hits six and seven times on both sides before pulling back to admire his handiwork.

The welts are already bright red and tender, ready for him to take more if need be. He runs a finger down each one gently, tracing their edges before trailing it lower between your legs, where he presses against your clit roughly. You moan loudly this time, needing him to continue even though it hurts so good.

“I-Is it over?”

He chuckles, the sound dark and low, resonating from the pit of his chest. It's a sound that sends shivers down your spine and has you clenching your thighs together in anticipation. He lifts his finger, coated with your arousal, and presents it to your lips. "Taste," he commands.

You parted your lips obediently, taking his finger into your mouth. Your tongue wraps around it, tasting your own arousal—salty and bitter, with a hint of metallic tang from your earlier exertion. It's a taste that's uniquely yours—a taste that he's come to crave.

Once you've licked his finger clean, he pulls it away and grabs hold of the ruler again. He brandishes it in front of you, the wooden surface gleaming under the harsh lighting. Another line of pain sears across your ass cheeks, making you jerk in surprise. This time, when he pulls back, he commands, "Sit on the desk and spread your legs.”

Again, you hesitate. You can feel your fingers twitching, itching to claw at him, to show him your defiance. But you know better than to challenge him now.

Crack!

Jeong snaps the ruler against the desk and you flinch. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

No, you think, but you're not giving him the satisfaction of hearing you say it. You scramble into action, hopping up onto the desk again, scooting backwards until your knees hook on the table’s edge when you open your legs. The sting of the cut intensifies, making you wince, but you refuse to let out a sound.

One more time, he steps between your spread thighs. “You asked if your punishment was over. Do you really think that after all your disobedient, inappropriate behavior today, those measly strikes were all you deserved?”

Shaking your head desperately, you babble, “No, sir, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Jeong Jin- Man stuts. “And now you’re lying…”

“No, please, I just want to be good, I–” You are cut off with a hiss as your boss cracks the ruler down half-way up the center of your inner thigh.

He doesn’t lift the ruler, instead dragging it over your skin, up, up, up until he reaches the crux of your hip. You shiver, your eyes wide and your lips caught between teeth.

Glancing down at the ruler, you see the point of which is laying mere inches from your cunt before looking back up.

Jeong can tell that you’re trying to hide how hungry you are and how much you want this, want more, and need it. But you are so subtle about it; he can only tell because he knows where to look.

“You don’t need to count this time,” he says, seemingly casual. “Just do your best not to make too much noise, hmm? We don’t want Ji-An to come back home and hear you like this.”

“Yes, Sir.” Your reply is curt, but the edge in your voice is unmistakable.

Jeong doesn't seem to mind your defiance. If anything, it seems to amuse him, admiring the way the muscles in your thighs tense up as he uses the ruler to part your soft labia. He presses the wooden corner harshly against your clit.

“Fu– Mmph.” A sharp, snapping sound breaks through the air as you clap a hand over your own mouth, cutting off the curse before it can fully form itself.

The man smirks and twists the ruler, maintaining the heavy pressure.

Smack! Smack!

Puffy lips must cushion the blows, just slightly, but he is still sure that it’s sharp enough to hurt when the blows make contact with your swollen clit. The impacts sound moist, and the slick covering your skin likely makes the sting a touch more severe.

Jin-Man doesn’t give you a moment to recover between each hit, unleashing a stream of spanks in quick succession, each one causing your entire body to jump and convulse as though you had been electrocuted.

“Ngh, ngh, nghh—Mmph!” You have both of your hands covering your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut and your knees jerking inward on every impact. You try to bare your teeth at him, a growl of defiance building in your throat, but he cuts you off with a sharp look, as if you're a dog trying to show aggression to its master.

It only takes a few more smacks against your pussy before the man’s free hand has to grip your thigh and hold it still, keeping you from allowing your legs to close.

Resting for a moment, Jeong lets the flat side of the ruler lay overtop of your cunt. The already-flushed skin is now a darkened red rather than that rose-petal pink, the colour of your mouth. He is sure that it would be hot to the touch, glowing with heat from the abuse.

“Please!”

Dropping the ruler to the floor, he steps forward. Reaching down with one hand to click open the buckle of his belt, he buries the other in your hair. "Please, what?" he asks, his hand tugging on your hair, tilting your head back to expose your delicate throat. The threat of teeth grazing your skin is electrifying.

He takes his time, slowly unbuckling his belt, the leather sliding out of its loops with a soft whisper of sound. His pants drop to the floor, pooling around his ankles, revealing a hard thickness straining against the fabric of his boxers.

With a swift tug, it's freed, standing erect and proud.

Your eyes widen at the sight, heat pooling in your lower belly. The tip of his cock is flushed a dark red, throbbing with anticipation, the veins on the sides bulging and straining, ready to claim its prize.

A whimper escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily. The heat radiating off his dick is palpable, and you can't help but imagine how it would feel sliding into you, filling you to the brim.

On seeing your reaction, a predatory grin spreads across Jeong's face. He moves closer, his hand gripping your head firmly and holding you still. He positions himself at your entrance, his fingers gripping your hips, pulling your legs wider apart.

And as he thrusts into you, claiming you entirely, the Greek myth of Hades and Persephone rings in your mind again.

Only this time, you are not a helpless Persephone being whisked away to a foreign underworld. Instead, you are a willing partner in this dance of power and desolation, a queen finding her throne in the deepest depths of hell. And Jin-Man, your Hades, is not just your captor but also your savior, a dark god offering you a sanctuary built on shadows and secrets.

As the underworld of his life consumes you, you realize there are no seasons dictating your stay, no harvest goddess waiting for your return. Your fate is braided with his, and in this underworld, you are both the rulers, bound not by pomegranate seeds but by a desire as relentless and binding as the river Styx itself.

#jeong jin man #a shop for killers #lee dong wook #lee dong wook x reader #seo moonjo #seo moonjo x reader #yoon jongwoo #floriculturist #imagine

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stobinesque · 1 year ago

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The last post I reblogged has me thinking about how Lucas is treated by his friends/the wider UD gang in-universe/from a more Watsonian perspective. Because here are the facts:

Lucas has spent most of his childhood being explicitly/overtly bullied for his race [being called "Midnight" by their season 1 bullies]¹

At the beginning of Season 2, Mike clearly assumes that Lucas agreed to go as Winston for no other reason than both of them being black. But when called on this, Mike cannot bring himself to admit that's what he was thinking. (He also does not apologize to Lucas.)

Until Billy attacks him, Lucas doesn't really know why Max is trying to avoid being seen with him when Billy picks her up/at her house, but having been on the receiving end of "my family is racist so I can't be seen with you," whether or not you actively know the reason someone is trying to hide you from another person, it feels alienating. Also, he absolutely figures it out in hindsight.

But since at first he doesn't know that Billy inexplicably and aggressively hates him/doesn't want him interacting with Max, from Lucas' perspective he gets attacked by a white boy 4-5 years his senior and almost twice his size out of literally nowhere. Said boy explicitly declares to him "You're dead, Sinclair."²

Lucas, upon entering high school, decides that he wants to acquire enough social pressure to protect him and his friends from the bullying they had to deal with throughout middle school. Neither Mike nor Dustin seem willing/able to understand why he might be interested in that protection.

There are a couple different ways to interpret Lucas (and Patrick)³ choosing to stay with Jason and Andy, but I think it's reasonable to assume that Lucas would be able to recognize a mob/witch hunt forming, and I also think it is reasonable to assume that Lucas knows that mobs tend to target the most vulnerable members of a population, and that he himself both as a black kid and a member of Hellfire is at risk.

Nancy knows for a fact that Jason was at the army surplus store in search of a gun, and while it is implied that she informs the group of this, they seem not to take that into any consideration when planning because

Taken altogether, this paints a picture that in-universe, all of Lucas' friends should be intimately aware that he has experienced overt racism for his entire life. But, the Halloween costume argument also suggests that even though they're all aware of said racism, none of the white members of the group really feel comfortable talking about it. Lucas does explicitly call Mike out on thinking that he would be Winston (or that Mike can't be) "because he's black," and Mike flat out lies to his face. If this is one of the first times Lucas has confronted one of the Party members about their own implicit racism, I think it would be reasonable for him to walk away from that exchange deciding that race isn't something he can have honest conversations with his friends about.

We also never see Billy attacking Lucas addressed on-screen after it happens. Which means we never get to see anyone check-in with Lucas about what happened, or see him process what happened.

So come season 4 Lucas has great reason both to want more social capital/protection and to feel uncomfortable explicitly talking to his friends about why that might be. (Especially with the added baggage of Billy having just been killed, which assuredly inspired a lot of complicated feelings for Lucas, especially because of how much his death impacted Max.) Instead, he makes one simple request of his friends (who he both wants at his game and still wants to play D&D with them): get Eddie to reschedule the game. And, sure, it's Eddie's fault that the game doesn't get rescheduled. But it is absolutely on Mike and Dustin that they didn't choose to skip (which honestly probably would have forced Eddie to reschedule anyway??).

So for the most important game of the season, Lucas winds up without his friends or his sister there to watch him make the winning shot, and he misses out on the D&D game that he wanted to play with his friends. It's entirely possible that Lucas still would have decided to go to the afterparty even if Mike and Dustin had come to the game. But I think it's reasonably likely that he'd have gone to celebrate separately with them! Or at least would have left the party early, rather than getting so drunk he pukes the next morning. So when Jason riles the whole team into becoming a mob out for blood, Lucas ends up stuck between a rock and a hard place. He can't really say or do anything to stop Jason that doesn't also put a target on his back. Sticking with him is the best way to 1) ensure his own physical safety and 2) have any hope of protecting Eddie/his friends.

And then Lucas risks his life to lead Jason & co. off Eddie's scent and bikes eight miles to come warn Dustin that he's in danger. He actually explicitly says that Dustin is in terrible danger. Lucas (and, honestly, all of the Party--except arguably Will) at this point is intimately aware of the fact that a white boy fueled by rage can been homicidally dangerous. So the fact that even after knowing for a fact that Jason has acquired a gun, the whole team send Lucas, Erica and Max to the Creel house without weapons, protection, or any sort of plan as to how to deal with Jason & co. if they turn up is not only baffling, but honestly feels downright callous.

From a purely Watsonian perspective, Lucas has every right and reason to be absolutely livid with his friends. Their consistent inability to recognize or acknowledge the racism Lucas experiences directly results in Lucas and his sister being attacked and nearly killed--and not even by the supernatural bad guy.

¹The show never returns to this, but to me it is broadly illustrative of the racial climate in Hawkins

²Please do not waste your breath trying to argue with me that Billy "wasn't really trying to kill him." I honestly don't care either way. He threatened to kill a 13-year-old boy whose only "crime" was being black. There is no other explanation for Billy's treatment of Lucas that makes sense, since he explicitly targets him, and not Dustin or Mike. Regardless of whether or not Billy had genuine homicidal intent, Lucas had no reason to think otherwise in that moment. I have no interest in arguing this point with anyone.

³Patrick is another excellent example of the show being unable to meaningfully reckon with with its racial implications, but that's its own post.

#lucas sinclair #stranger things meta #meta #read.txt #...not gonna main tag this #cw antiblackness

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springingsour · 1 month ago

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Nice Try... | BLINK One-Shot

The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the vast expanse of the ocean, its gentle waves lapping rhythmically against the hull of a ship that sailed these treacherous but beautiful seas.

The air was filled with salt and adventure, mingling with the sweet fragrance of ripe fruits that rested in a nearby basket.

A well-worn hammock swaying softly with the breeze was on the deck of the ship, hung between two sturdy masts. Nestled within someone, peacefully asleep, a serene expression was seen upon the figure, inhaling the fresh sea air. The hammock gently rocked as the ship glided through the water, creating a soothing lull that harmonised with the distant cries of gulls overhead.

Around the deck, the soft creaking of wooden planks and the occasional rigging clang added to the sea's symphony. The sails billowed, catching the wind with a sound reminiscent of whispers, as the ship sailed steadily toward the horizon, where the sky met the deep blue sea.

Unbeknownst to the sleeping figure, two young boys, crept stealthily across the deck. Their eyes sparkled with mischief as they plotted to sneak up on the sleeping figure. They moved with care, hearts pounding with excitement, hoping to catch their target by surprise and steal away a moment of joy amidst the sprawling ocean.

Together, they giggled in hushed tones, clutching their gear—plump tomatoes and a bucket of water in hand—as they drew ever closer. The boys were ready to unleash their playful ambush, unaware that beneath the figures' tranquil exterior, a spark of cunning awaited its moment to shine.

Two hushed voices floated through the balmy air of the ship, barely audible above the creaking of the wooden deck.

"Shh…! You're going to get us caught…!" whispered one boy, his eyes darting nervously over his shoulder as he meticulously loaded the cloth catapult with a ripe, red tomato. He aimed with precision at a shadowy figure lounging on the deck a distance away, his heart racing with the thrill of mischief.

"I'm being careful; you're the loud one…!" retorted his companion, who was hoisting an old bucket, grinning from ear to ear. The sunlight glinted off the surface of the bucket, revealing an array of plump, juicy tomatoes waiting to be unleashed.

"Okay… 3…" the first boy murmured, his voice trembling with excitement.

"2…" the second boy echoed, his grin widening as they prepared for impact.

"1…!"

With a sudden burst of energy, the bucket was hurled, and the tomatoes soared through the air in a vibrant arc, splattering onto the unsuspecting figure below. The delighted laughter of the young boys erupted like fireworks as they turned on their heels and sprinted away, the thrill of the prank propelling them forward.

However, their glee was short-lived. The wind suddenly blew right past them, and they knew it was too late. In their haste, they collided with the slick, tomato-splattered deck, losing their footing. The next moment, they found themselves sliding unceremoniously across the wet surface, the crew's laughter echoing in a hilariously tangled chorus of surprise and delight.

"AH!" came the startled cry from one boy as he bumped into a pair of legs adorned with gleaming golden sandals.

"HEY!" protested the other, he cried out in pain, rubbing his face where a red spot started to bloom, his tone now mingled with bewilderment as they came to a halt at the feet of a bemused onlooker.

A chuckle rumbled from above as you leaned down, an amused twinkle in your eyes as you surveyed the mess of tomato-stained clothing and exuberant grins before you. The scent of fresh tomatoes hung in the air, mixing with the salty breeze of the sea.

“Good effort, boys… Good effort indeed…” you remarked, an amused grin tugging at your lips as you sank your teeth into the ripe, juicy tomato, the sweet-sour juice bursting against your taste buds. You couldn’t help but relish their antics—the chaotic energy radiating between them was nothing short of contagious. "I suspect this was Shanks' plan this round…?"

Shanks, the red-haired boy with a wild spirit, glanced up at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he adjusted the straw hat perched jauntily on his head, the worn fabric tilting slightly to one side.

“Guilty as charged…!” he proclaimed with mock seriousness, his laughter echoing like music in the air. The sound was infectious, tugging you into a fit of giggles, but it only prompted his companion to exhale dramatically, exasperation painted across his features.

“Geez, you’ve messed it up again, Shanks…” Buggy grumbled, rising to his feet with an exaggerated sigh. He attempted to brush the vibrant tomato stains from his clothes, each swish of his hand only adding to the disarray, the scattered remnants of their playful food fight now colouring his outfit like a poorly executed art piece.

“Oh, come on, Buggy!” Shanks said, his eyes dancing with delight, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a grin that could light up the darkest of places. “It’s all in good fun! Besides, I thought you liked a bit of adventure!”

Buggy crossed his arms, his frown deepening into a comically exaggerated pout, but you could see the flicker of amusement that danced in his eyes, betraying his true feelings. “Adventure is fine, but next time, can we skip the food fight aspect?” he retorted, trying—and failing—to maintain his stern demeanour.

"Oi! It was your idea too…!" Shanks shot back playfully, laughter and annoyance bubbling between them as they both started to bicker, the light-hearted banter intensifying. They began gripping onto one another, wrestling playfully in a comedic display.

As the bickering escalated, you couldn't help but smirk at the unfolding scene. A sudden awareness of another presence made you turn your head slightly, spotting a certain someone less than pleased.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you decided to interject, desperate to steer the chaos in a new direction. “How about a challenge instead? Whoever gets caught by Rayleigh loses…” Your voice dripped with mischief, your proposal hanging in the air like an enticing promise of adventure.

The prospect of a challenge sparked an immediate flicker of confusion, quickly morphing into palpable fear in the two young pirate apprentices.

"Eh…?" Shanks uttered, a tone of disbelief colouring his words, while Buggy’s expression morphed into one of sheer panic, a shiver running down his spine.

A new game had been set in motion, and with it came the thrill of unpredictability—an adventure that promised more than just laughs.

"Oi! SHANKS! BUGGY! Why is the deck in such a mess!" Called out the voice of the first mate who sounded mad.

The two boys cast curious glances your way, the realization of what you had done with the other tomatoes slowly creeping into their expressions.

"I couldn't let your hard work go to waste, now could I…?" A playful grin spreads across your face as you sink your teeth into the ripe, juicy fruit, savouring its sweet tang. "I’d start running if I were you…"

With that they darted in opposite directions, you couldn’t help but laugh again, leaning back against the wall to watch the chaos unfold. Their antics reminded you how much fun it was to be around such carefree spirits, each moment promising more laughter and chaos to come.

Buggy suddenly slipped on a stray tomato, sending him sprawling on the floor with a surprised yelp. Shanks doubled over with laughter, momentarily forgetting the danger he was in, while he rushed over to help Buggy up.

"So… the only time I see you two working together is to create more trouble, eh?" he huffed, his voice echoing slightly over the creaking wood of the ship.

Rayleigh, the ever-diligent first mate of the crew, stood with a furrowed brow, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His expression was a mixture of annoyance and exasperation as he glared at the two boys who had been caught in yet another bout of mischief.

With a sudden crack, the boys cried in unison, clapping their hands to their heads, where Rayleigh’s firm hand had made contact. It was a lesson they had learned time and again: their playful antics had consequences. Yet even in the flurry of their discomfort, there was a flicker of mischief in their eyes, as if they were already plotting their next scheme.

You leaned against the rail, a smirk dancing on your lips beneath your tilted hat. The laughter bubbled quietly within you, your wings fluttering subtly against your face as you enjoyed the spectacle. Rayleigh’s gaze, sharp and scrutinizing, caught yours, and his frown deepened.

"You couldn’t be bothered to stop them…?" he sighed, weariness manifesting in the lines of his face as he turned to face you, but a hint of fondness lay in his tone.

"What…? I didn’t do anything… I was simply resting, Ray…" You replied with feigned innocence, the corners of your mouth curling up into a grin. It was hard to keep up the façade as you strolled past them, adjusting your hat with a nonchalant gesture. Your wings fluttered gently, catching the afternoon light.

As you passed the two boys, their expressions shifted from pain to mischief.

While Rayleigh enforced the rules, you seemed to exist in a realm just a bit more playful, where trouble and laughter often went hand in hand. The stage was set for another day filled with the antics of a crew that thrived on camaraderie—and of course, a little chaos.

Such is the life when you are a pirate of Roger himself.

____________________________________________________

Buggy, grinning: Before you were what?

Shanks: Before I was-

Buggy: What?

Shanks: Before I was inter-

Buggy: Before you were interrupted?

Shanks: Cut me off one more time and I swear I'll-

Buggy: What?

Shanks: *makes frustrated sound*

You, munching on popcorn, enjoying the show: Stop that. Before he hurts you.

Rayleigh: Don't encourage them!

Buggy: I have met some of the most insufferable people. But they also met me.

*Shanks and Buggy are fighting*

Rayleigh, hungover after a night of drinking: I have a headache! Can you guys just be cool?!

You, hand them something: You heard him…

*Shanks and Buggy start fighting while wearing sunglasses and riding skateboards*

You, munching on more popcorn:

You: What doesn't kill me better start running, because now I'm fucking pissed.

Shanks: Onion rings are vegetable doughnuts.

Buggy, used to Shanks being dumb: Sure...

Shanks: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed.

Buggy: Okay?

Shanks: Lasagna is a spaghetti-flavored cake.

Buggy:

Shanks: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio-

Buggy: Jeez! That one is a little-

You, interested as you munch on even more popcorn: No, no, Shanks, keep going.

Shanks: It's not like I try to blow things up, exactly. It just sort of happens. You've got to admit though, fire is fascinating.

Rayleigh: Are you listening to me?

You: *nods*

Rayleigh: What did I just say?

You: *nods*

Rayleigh: ...

You, munch on another dosagee popcorn:

Rayleigh:

You: *Munch*

Rayleigh, snatches your popcorn away: No more!

You: ( - ᷅ ⤙ -᷄ )

______________________________________________________________

#fanfiction #Various one piece x reader #one piece x reader #one shot #one piece #shanks one piece #buggy one piece #silvers rayleigh #rayleigh one piece #BLINK #shanks x reader #buggy x reader #rayleigh x reader #fluff #op fluff #one piece snippet

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danika-redgrave124 · 3 months ago

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Umbra Witch Yuu Weapons

Lucky Vintage

Appearance: The Lucky Vintage slingshot has a classic cartoon design, with a black and white color scheme reminiscent of old-school animation. The handle is crafted from dark wood, giving it a sturdy and vintage look, while the sling is made of elastic with a classic black and white striped pattern. The slingshot’s overall design is simple yet iconic, evoking the playful yet mischievous spirit of Oswald.

Combat Style

Cartoonish Explosions: The Lucky Vintage fires explosive projectiles that not only deal significant damage but also create cartoonish effects and sounds upon impact. These projectiles cause enemies to be disoriented, adding an element of surprise and chaos to the battlefield. The explosions are accompanied by exaggerated sound effects, such as classic "boings" and "pows," enhancing the nostalgic feel of the weapon.

Retro Shot: This special ability taps into the whimsical power of vintage cartoons, allowing Bayonetta to unleash a barrage of explosive projectiles. When activated, the slingshot fires rapidly, each shot exploding with comical and exaggerated effects. Enemies caught in the blast are not only damaged but also disoriented, as the cartoonish sounds and visuals throw them off balance. Additionally, the slingshot can create a cloud of vintage cartoon smoke, a swirling black-and-white haze that obscures vision and provides cover for Yuu. This smoke enhances their stealth, making it easier for them to evade enemies or set up for a surprise attack.

Stealth and Evasion: The Lucky Vintage excels in scenarios where Yuu needs to outmaneuver their enemies. The vintage cartoon smoke creates a perfect cover, allowing them to slip away undetected or reposition herself for a strategic advantage. The smoke also confuses enemies, leaving them vulnerable to Yuu's follow-up attacks.

Tactical Versatility

Crowd Control and Disorientation: The Lucky Vintage is particularly effective against groups of enemies. The explosive projectiles can hit multiple targets at once, dealing area-of-effect damage and causing chaos among enemy ranks. The cartoonish effects disorient enemies, making it harder for them to coordinate or defend against Yuu's attacks.

Stealth and Surprise: Yuu can use the Lucky Vintage to blend in with the chaos, utilizing the cloud of vintage cartoon smoke to disappear from sight. This makes it easier for them to ambush enemies or escape dangerous situations. The weapon's playful design belies its effectiveness, making it a powerful tool in Yuu's arsenal.

Finishing Moves

Classic Capers: In a Climax attack, Yuu uses the Lucky Vintage to summon a wave of classic cartoon mayhem. The slingshot fires a giant, oversized projectile that explodes in a burst of vintage animation, complete with exaggerated visuals and sound effects. The explosion causes enemies to be thrown into a comical frenzy, bouncing around the battlefield as if caught in a cartoon. As the dust settles, Yuu emerges from the cloud of smoke, ready to finish off any remaining foes with style and flair.

Royal Baton

Appearance: The Royal Baton is designed with a vibrant yellow and pink color scheme, reflecting Daisy Duck's iconic look. The baton features intricate floral motifs along its shaft, with vines and blossoms winding around the handle. At the top of the baton is a sparkling, gem-encrusted orb that glows with magical energy. The orb emits a soft, radiant light, symbolizing Daisy's lively and elegant spirit.

Combat Style

Magical Energy and Floral Petals: The Royal Baton harnesses the power of nature and magic to create a dynamic combat style that blends offense and support. With each strike, the baton releases bursts of magical energy accompanied by a flurry of floral petals. These petals not only damage enemies but also provide healing effects to Yuu and their allies, making the baton a dual-purpose weapon.

Floral Burst: The baton’s special ability, Floral Burst, taps into its full magical potential. When activated, the baton releases a series of powerful energy bursts that radiate outward, damaging enemies in their path. These bursts are accompanied by a cascade of petals that swirl around Yuu, healing them and any nearby allies. The healing effect is instantaneous, providing a quick recovery in the heat of battle.

Field of Flowers: The Royal Baton can also summon a field of magical flowers. This field blooms around Yuu, creating a safe zone that offers various buffs and status effects. Enemies caught in the field are slowed and take continuous damage from the thorny vines that emerge from the ground, while Yuu and their allies receive increased defense, faster health regeneration, and enhanced magical abilities.

Tactical Versatility

Offense and Support: The Royal Baton excels in scenarios where Yuu needs to both attack and provide support to their allies. The combination of damaging energy bursts and healing petals makes it ideal for balancing aggressive combat with strategic healing. The field of flowers adds another layer of versatility, offering both offensive and defensive capabilities.

Area Control and Buffs: The field of flowers created by the Royal Baton is a powerful tool for controlling the battlefield. It creates a zone where Yuu can dominate, forcing enemies to either fight within the damaging area or retreat. Meanwhile, Yuu and their allies can enjoy the benefits of the buffs, turning the tide of battle in their favor.

Finishing Moves

Regal Bloom: In a Climax attack, Yuu channels the full power of the Royal Baton to create an explosion of floral energy. The baton’s orb glows brightly before releasing a massive burst of energy that engulfs the entire battlefield in vibrant, swirling petals. Enemies caught in the blast are overwhelmed by the energy, suffering massive damage as thorny vines entangle and crush them. Meanwhile, Yuu and their allies are fully healed and empowered by the burst, ready to continue the fight with renewed strength.

Shield Gauntlets

Appearance: The Shield Gauntlets are bulky and robust, designed to resemble Goofy's iconic look. They feature a green and brown color scheme, with large, round shield motifs integrated into the forearm area. The shields are decorated with subtle Goofy-themed details, such as his signature hat design and his iconic "G" emblem, embossed on the surface. The gauntlets themselves are reinforced with metallic accents, giving them a durable and protective appearance.

Combat Style

Defensive Capabilities: The Shield Gauntlets excel in providing Yuu with strong defensive options, allowing them to block and counter incoming attacks. The integrated shields are designed to absorb damage, protecting Yuu from both melee strikes and projectile attacks.

Goofy Guard: The special ability, Goofy Guard, enhances Yuu's defensive prowess. When activated, the shields project an energy barrier that amplifies Yuu's blocking capabilities, reducing damage taken from powerful attacks. Additionally, the shields can reflect incoming projectiles back at enemies, turning their own attacks against them.

Shockwave Punches: Despite their defensive nature, the Shield Gauntlets are also equipped with offensive capabilities. When Yuu lands a punch with these gauntlets, the shields generate powerful shockwaves that radiate outward, knocking back and damaging nearby enemies. These shockwaves can be charged for even more powerful strikes, creating a large area of effect that can disrupt groups of enemies.

Tactical Versatility

Defensive Strategy: The Shield Gauntlets are ideal for a defensive and strategic approach to combat. Yuu can use the shields to block incoming attacks while waiting for the perfect moment to counter with a shockwave punch. This allows them to control the pace of battle, absorbing damage and retaliating with precise, powerful strikes.

Crowd Control: The shockwaves generated by the gauntlets are particularly effective for crowd control. By knocking back enemies and creating space, Yuu can manage large groups of foes more easily, preventing them from overwhelming them. The ability to reflect projectiles also makes these gauntlets valuable against ranged enemies, turning their attacks into an advantage for Yuu.

Finishing Moves

Goofy's Justice: In a Climax attack, Yuu channels the full power of the Shield Gauntlets into a devastating combination of defense and offense. They blocks a series of incoming attacks with the shields, building up energy before unleashing a massive, double-fisted punch that creates an enormous shockwave. The shockwave knocks all enemies in the vicinity off their feet and deals significant damage, while Yuu remains protected by the shields' energy barrier.

Bow Crossbows

Appearance: The Bow Crossbows are designed with a strong emphasis on Minnie Mouse's signature style. Each crossbow features a large, red bow-shaped handle with white polka dots, reminiscent of Minnie's iconic bow. The limbs of the crossbows are adorned with similar polka dot patterns, and the entire weapon exudes a cheerful, yet formidable, energy. The bowstring glows with a soft pink light, adding a magical touch to the design. Small, star-shaped accents decorate the crossbows, enhancing their whimsical appearance.

Combat Style

Ranged Capabilities: The Bow Crossbows excel at ranged combat, allowing Yuu to strike enemies from a distance with precision and flair. The crossbows fire rapid volleys of arrows, each imbued with magical energy that creates unique effects upon impact.

Polka Dot Barrage: The special ability, Polka Dot Barrage, unleashes a flurry of arrows that create explosive bursts of red and white polka dots on impact. These bursts deal area-of-effect damage, charming and disorienting enemies caught in the blast. The charm effect briefly distracts enemies, causing them to hesitate or even fight for Yuu, allowing them to take control of the battlefield with style.

Protective Stars: Beyond their offensive capabilities, the Bow Crossbows also offer a defensive option. Yuu can create a protective field of sparkling stars that surrounds them boosting their accuracy and speed for a short duration. This star field not only enhances their combat effectiveness but also adds a layer of defense, deflecting minor projectiles and slowing down enemies who try to get too close.

Tactical Versatility

Precision Strikes: The Bow Crossbows are perfect for players who prefer a tactical, ranged approach to combat. Yuu can take out enemies from a distance with pinpoint accuracy, using the explosive effects of the arrows to control the battlefield. The charm effect adds an element of crowd control, allowing them to disrupt enemy formations and turn the tide of battle in their favor.

Speed and Agility: With the Polka Dot Barrage ability, Yuu's speed and agility are temporarily enhanced, allowing them to move quickly and evade enemy attacks while maintaining a steady barrage of arrows. The protective field of stars further enhances their mobility, making them a difficult target to hit while they gracefully maneuvers around their foes.

Finishing Moves

Minnie's Whirlwind: In a Climax attack, Yuu channels the power of the Bow Crossbows into a devastating final strike. They leaps into the air and fires a massive volley of arrows in all directions, each arrow leaving behind a trail of sparkling polka dots. As the arrows rain down, they create a dazzling display of explosions that charm and damage all enemies in the vicinity. The attack ends with a burst of stars, enveloping Yuu in a protective aura that boosts her speed and accuracy for the remainder of the battle.

Mystic Staff

Appearance: The Mystic Staff is designed to evoke Donald Duck's classic nautical outfit, featuring a sleek blue and white color scheme with golden accents. The staff is adorned with maritime details, such as rope-like engravings along the shaft and a golden anchor symbol near the grip. The top of the staff is shaped like Donald's signature sailor hat, complete with a golden star-shaped gem that glows with magical energy. The staff exudes a whimsical yet powerful aura, reflecting Donald's dual nature as both a lovable character and a formidable spellcaster.

Combat Style

Elemental Magic: The Mystic Staff is imbued with potent wind and water-based magic, allowing Yuu to unleash a variety of elemental attacks that can control the battlefield and overwhelm enemies.

Storm Surge: The special ability, Storm Surge, allows Yuu to tap into the staff's full potential, unleashing a barrage of wind and water-based attacks that mirror Donald's tempestuous personality. This ability can be used in various ways, depending on the situation:

Wind Blasts: Yuu can create powerful gusts of wind that knock back enemies, disrupting their formations and creating space for her to maneuver. The wind blasts can also deflect projectiles and send smaller enemies flying, giving her a tactical advantage.

Water Jets: The staff can summon high-pressure jets of water that slice through enemies and push them back, dealing damage and keeping foes at a distance. The water jets can be used to create barriers of water that slow down approaching enemies or extinguish fire-based attacks.

Magical Storm Cloud: The most devastating aspect of Storm Surge is the ability to summon a magical storm cloud above the battlefield. This cloud rains down lightning bolts that strike enemies with pinpoint accuracy, dealing massive damage and stunning them in place. The storm cloud can also create localized rainstorms, drenching enemies and reducing their visibility and mobility.

Tactical Versatility

Crowd Control: The Mystic Staff excels in crowd control, allowing Yuu to manage large groups of enemies with ease. The wind and water attacks can be used to keep enemies at bay, knock them down, or push them into vulnerable positions. The lightning strikes from the storm cloud can be targeted to take out key threats or disrupt enemy formations, making it a versatile tool in battle.

Environmental Manipulation: The Mystic Staff also allows Yuu to manipulate the environment to their advantage. The water jets can create slippery surfaces, causing enemies to lose their footing, while the wind blasts can blow away obstacles or debris. The rainstorms can douse flames or create muddy terrain, further complicating the battlefield for their enemies.

Finishing Moves

Tempest Fury: In a Climax attack, Yuu channels the full power of the Mystic Staff to unleash a massive elemental assault. They spins the staff in the air, creating a vortex of wind and water that pulls in enemies from all directions. As they are drawn into the vortex, the storm cloud above intensifies, unleashing a torrent of lightning bolts that strike down with devastating force. The attack concludes with a massive explosion of wind and water, scattering the remaining enemies and leaving Yuu standing in the eye of the storm, ready to continue the fight.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #umbra witch yuu #twisted wonderland x bayonetta #twst x Bayonetta #twistedwonderland #twisted wonderland x yuu #bayonetta x twisted wonderland #bayonetta x twst #bayonetta

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autumnshighlady · 9 months ago

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All I Gave You Is Gone (ACOTAR x The Silmarillion AU) - Chapter 1

RHYSAND'S SISTER X MAEDHROS

summary: The story begins with High Lord Rhysand’s sister, Ravenna, moments before her death. Before the sword is swung across her neck, she pleads to the Mother to rescue her, to intervene and get her out. Ravenna’s prayers are answered, and she wakes up in a strange land across the stars, far away from her home – Arda.

warnings: graphic violence

word count: 3.6k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this AU is so niche that most people probably don't know what the Silmarillion is - fear not! I will be writing it in a way that you won't need to know anything about lotr or the silm to understand it, as everything will be explained. I'm super excited for this series and I hope you guys grow to enjoy it. Any support is appreciated! Huge shoutout to the Anon that inspired this!

Screams rang through the shrieking wind, rattling Ravenna’s eardrums as a coppery tang filled her mouth. It was almost impossible to see anything amidst the smoke and rain, not that she wanted to be cursed with witnessing the horrifying scene. No, part of Ravenna was glad for the masking of the carnage.

The scent of blood choked her senses, closing up her throat and making her eyes burn. Her head throbbed from the impact of its collision on the nearby rock, stomach stinging in pain from the arrow laced with faebane that was lodged in her flesh. Through blurry vision, Ravenna lifted her head, groaning as every ounce of her body protested. Up above, the few fully trained Illyrian soldiers that were stationed at the war camp were falling from the sky, their lifeless bodies brutalised upon meeting the rocky ground. Hybern soldiers swarmed them like ants, their laughter echoing above the sounds of slaughter.

Tears pricked at Ravenna’s eyes as she inhaled deeply, immobilised by her wounds and the faebane arrow in her stomach that stifled her magic. She hadn’t even wanted to come here today to the Illyrian war camp with her mother, Nienna. They had fought over it – Ravenna had even offered to go to the Hewn City with her brother, Rhysand, then accompany her mother to Illyria. She hated it there. Everything from the leering males and the icy chill, to the sight of downtrodden females with their heads low and their wings clipped. Despite being half-Illyrian, Ravenna never felt any desire to spend time there.

Her black hair stuck to her face, clinging to her skin as the rain poured down. She lifted her wings, trying to flap them enough to get her body off the ground, but it was no use. They were dead weight on her back, too exhausted from the effects of the faebane to help her. Panic began to settle in as Ravenna realised she could not make her wings disappear with the poison in her veins. Her wings were a target now, a weak spot. Unable to defend herself, she was now a sitting duck.

As she laid there half-conscious, the screams eventually stopped, her blood turning to ice at the eerie silence from Illyrians in the war camp. Ravenna let out a sob. As Hybern soldier’s footsteps echoed on the hard ground, growing closer to where she was laying beside the rocks, she knew she was going to die.

“Hey! There’s one over here!” A gruff male voice called, followed by the sound of cheering.

No. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real.

Pathetically, Ravenna tried to drag herself away, fingernails breaking and scraping against the hard rock, efforts in vain. Panic rose in her chest as the sound of the soldier’s leering grew closer, closing in on her like a pack of wolves.

Thanks to the arrow, she had no magic to defend herself. Her asshole father, Ronan, the High Lord of the Night Court, had never even let her train to defend herself. She knew a couple moves from her sparring with Cassian and Azriel, but they were useless in this situation. Ravenna could hear Azriel’s voice in her head, pleading for her to get up and take a stand. But she couldn’t. Every muscle in her body was lifeless, her head spinning and aching with pain.

“Pretty little princess, all on her own...” One of the soldiers sneered, twirling his sword in his hands as he came to stand above her. She could practically smell his rotten breath amidst the blood covering his body that was not his own.

Ravenna tried to lift her head, but a dirty boot quickly connected with it with such force her neck snapped backwards, body jolting painfully. Fresh blood began to pour from the gaping wound on her forehead, and she cursed under her breath. Snide laughter sounded from above her, echoing in all directions as the world spun. “Nobody can help you now, princess.” One of the other soldiers said. “Not your half-breed brother, not your spy boyfriend. Certainly not your mommy.”

Ignoring the screaming pain, Ravenna opened her violet eyes and looked upwards at the soldier. Her gaze met his blood-stained face, then travelled down to his hands, eyes settling on what was grasped within them.

In his left hand was a familiar set of wings, tarnished with mud and dirt. Blood pooled onto the ground beneath them like a river. Bile rose in Ravenna’s throat as her gaze landed on his right hand.

And she screamed, raw and painfully.

In the soldier’s right hand was a severed head with long, dark locks identical to her own. Purple eyes were wide, face twisted in a frozen picture of agony, a female mid-scream. Bruises and scrapes were littered across the face, but it was unmistakable nonetheless.

It was Nienna. Her mother. The beautiful seamstress who had held Ravenna in her arms for countless nights, who taught her everything she knew. The female who kept her chin high, even as males sneered at her for her lowborn status. Dead. Dead before Ravenna’s very eyes.

Screams continued to rip through Ravenna, cursing the Hybern soldiers with promises of slow and agonising death. She didn’t care that she, too, was about to meet the same fate as her mother. As soldiers grabbed her arms and hauled her upright to her knees, she thrashed and fought like a wildcat. More hands grabbed her, steadying her slightly as she spat at them, tears streaming down her face.

“Hold her steady!” One of the soldiers snapped before bending down to sneer in her face. “It’s your turn, half-breed bitch. But first we gotta take care of those wings. Can’t have you flying away now, can we?”

“If you cut off my wings, I will flay you.” She spat in his face, screeching as one of the soldiers reached down and ripped the arrow out of her stomach, shredding the flesh as blood began pouring out of her faster.

The soldier snickered, his dark eyes brimming with hate as his twisted face stood mere inches from her own. “We won’t do that quite yet, that takes away half the fun. Your bitch mother bled to death when we ripped her wings from her body, so we didn’t get to enjoy her. We won’t make that same mistake with you.”

Ravenna howled furiously, sinking her canines into the nearby arm of a soldier as hard as she could. A whip cracked across her back in response, cleaving flesh from bone in one stroke as it shredded the material of her black dress. She bit down harder on the arm as pain blinded her, the blood of the soldier making her gag and eventually release him. At least her scream had been muffled.

Before she could curse them out again, she felt it. The presence of a cold, small blade against her wing. Right in the very spot she had seen scars on every female in the Illyrian camps.

No. No no no no.

She hadn’t even realised she was screaming the words out loud, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as she begged and pleaded pathetically. Flying was her favourite thing to do. She would spend hours soaring through the skies, feeling the wind on her wings as she shot through the air like a shooting star. Sometimes she had flown hand in hand with Azriel above Velaris before their relationship had soured in the last few months, admiring the dazzling view of the city below. Flying was her peace.

Ravenna had accepted that she would die at the hands of the soldiers. But to die with her wings clipped would break something inside of her.

“Rhys!” She began screaming out her brother’s name mindlessly, despite the fact he was miles away and likely clueless as to what was going on in the war camp. “Rhys! Rhys!” She screamed over and over, praying that somehow he would show up out of nowhere and save her.

Her pleading only spurred the soldiers on more, and then that blade made an incision in the wing’s tendon near her back, the one that her wings relied on to carry her body. She barely even felt the physical pain from the slice as she screamed furiously, not just for herself, but for every female who had gone through this.

For decades, she had argued with her father over the practice of wing clipping. Gone head to head with the High Lord over it. Rhys would often have to step in, talking his father down from clipping his daughter’s own wings as punishment for slaughtering every male she could find who kept the practice going. Ravenna never cared how angry Ronan got with her over it, for she had no shame in taking it upon herself to try and end wing clipping. No matter how much he threatened her, yelled at her, she didn’t care. For she knew that she was untouchable – the people of Velaris loved her too much for the High Lord to get away with locking up or punishing his own daughter.

And now here she was, bleeding from that one tendon in her wings, rendered unable to fly for the rest of her life.

The soldiers whopped and cheered, spurred on by her tears as Ravenna cried angrily. Her body felt numb – a blessing as the Hybern soldiers began to brutalise her body with their fists, whips, and blades. Her skin was sliced and bruised and spat on, but she barely felt it. All she could feel was the hole inside her chest at the sight of her mother’s wings and head, now discarded on the cold, wet ground like trash.

Rain mixed with blood, blood mixed with tears, mud and grime becoming her second skin as Ravenna was pummelled into the ground. A barbed whip lashed at her skin, the soldiers having ripped open parts of her dress to expose her soft flesh like meat about to be butchered. The whirling black Illyrian tattoos that marked her body were now hidden behind red blood. They had begun at her left thigh and coming up across her hips and ribs, swirling up to the right side of her body across her back and collarbones then travelling down her arm. Now, they were marred, a ruined art piece at the hands of Hybern.

Please. Ravenna begged the Mother silently, teary gaze lifting up to the darkening sky where a few stars peeked out behind the rain clouds. Please help me. Get me away from here. Please, I will do anything. Just get me out of here.

She could have sword one of the stars brightened in response. Throughout lash after lash, she kept praying silently. Grimy hands groped at her flesh, digging into the fresh wounds and twisting her like a ragdoll. She closed her eyes, feeling the cold blade of a sword line up against the back of her neck, ready to swing down on it and cleave her head from her shoulders.

And then everything went bright, instead of the darkness that Ravenna had expected. White hot fire overtook her body, and then it all faded away.

****************

The first thing Ravenna felt was the wind on her skin. It was gentler than the harsh wind of Illyria, but still strong. It soothed her body, which felt lifeless. The rocks she was laying on felt different than before, and she realised it was dirt beneath her, not stone. Her throat was dry, mouth caked with blood as she inhaled a deep breath. The air was fresh, not stifled with the scent of the war camp’s death. It filled her lungs blissfully, and it took all her strength to crack open her eyes.

She was met by sunlight, blinding her momentarily before her eyes finally adjusted. From her position on the ground, she could make out soft, windswept grass on either side of a dirt road. She was in a valley, a mountain pass judging by the steep hills nearby and the narrow windingness of the path ahead.

Ravenna’s mind was still swirling as she fought to figure out where she was. The landscape was unlike anything she had seen before in the Night Court. There was something different here, something that unsettled her bones. It did not feel like Prythian, somehow.

Before she could go through what she knew of the landscape of the various other courts, voices sounded in the distance, along with hoofsteps. Ravenna stiffened, pushing herself up into a sitting position as the sound grew closer. But it did not sound like the rough, sneering voices of Hyberm. No, these voices were different. They were strong, but songlike, lilting up and down in tones unfamiliar to Ravenna. From the winding path emerged a small group of males on horseback. They donned silver armour, long hair flowing in the wind and revealing pointed ears. Ravenna’s brow furrowed. She had not seen fae like this before, but something in her gut told her they were different. Sure, they donned the same ethereal grace to them matched with pointed ears, but there was an unsettling difference between them and the fae males Ravenna had previously encountered. They did not have a predatory feel to them like most fae males, but seemed colder. Calculating.

And nonetheless, terrifying.

A male with long blonde hair shouted something and charged his horse forward, icy blue eyes fixated on Ravenna as his group followed. She could barely move her aching body, merely slumping in defeat as the horses surrounded her in a perfect circle, a various assortment of blades and arrows pointed at her. On instinct, Ravenna lifted her wings to shoot herself up into the sky away from the males, but with the incision made she could barely lift them off the ground.

Once again, she was defenceless.

A male with black hair and cold, grey eyes barked something at her in that unfamiliar language. Squinting against the bright sun, Ravenna looked up to meet his stare. He and the blonde male were the only ones without helms and armour – the leaders, she presumed. An eight-pointed star marked the centre of their embroidered white tunics, and red capes flowed behind them in the wind.

When she didn’t answer, the black-haired male repeated his question, angrier this time.

“I’m sorry…” She muttered, barely getting the words out due to her dry throat. “I don’t understand…”

This time, it was the blonde male who spoke up. “You speak the common tongue?” He asked, his voice less harsh but still with a lethal edge to it. She nodded.

“Who are you and why are you in the pass of Aglon?” He continued, pressing his blade against her throat. She swallowed – never before had she seen such a beautiful blade, marked with swirling inscriptions and metalwork that would impress the most prestigious blacksmith in the Night Court.

Evenly, she met his blue eyes, which scanned her up and down. Distaste and surprise came across his beautiful features as he seemingly focused on the blood covering her body rather than her wings. Finally, Ravenna realised her dress had all but been torn to shreds, revealing her wounded skin in places she would have preferred to cover up. She curled herself into a ball, hands desperately trying to cover the parts of herself that had been revealed by the rips in her dress.

But the males did not leer like she had anticipated. Even the dark-haired one who had snapped at her in that foreign language did not seem affected by her skin on display. He was more focused on her wings, which were covered in Illyria’s mud and dirt. Ravenna still trembled with fear in their presence, but at least they seemed better than Hybern thus far.

“The pass of… what?” She asked, even more confused. She had never heard of such a place before. Certainly not in Prythian. Where the hell was she and what happened?

“She’s a spy of the Dark Lord, brother.” The dark-haired male said, a hateful look in his eyes as he drew his bow. “Let us kill her and be done with it.”

“Put that away, Curufin.” The blonde one scolded with authority. “We are in Maitimo’s lands. He will decide what to do with her. Spy or not, she comes with us. He will have our heads if we kill her without his permission.”

Curufin rolled his grey eyes and retracted his bow. “As you wish, Tyelkormo.”

Ravenna’s mind reeled and the sound of the names being given, especially the last one. They were unlike anything she had heard before, leaving her even more confused. Was she dead? Was this some sort of strange afterlife? She shivered – by the way the wind bit at her cold skin, she knew she was very much alive.

The blond one whose name Ravenna’s brain hadn’t wrapped around took note of her shiver, huffing loudly before muttering something in another tongue to one of his guards. He swung a leg off of his grey horse and slid down onto the ground, walking over to where Ravenna sat in the dirt. Part of her instincts told her to run, to back away from this ethereal, too-perfect looking male. But another part of her was lured in by his beauty, as if some strange spell surrounded him.

She baulked as he came to stand over her, blue eyes mercilessly staring her down as if she were nothing more than a speck of dirt. The male was enormous, almost a foot taller than Cassian was. Long, silver-blonde hair flowed over his shoulders, two small braids behind each ear trailing down beside his neck. Jewellery adorned his pointed ears, which were similar in shape to her own. Based on his elaborate-looking attire this male was of a decent status wherever they were.

The blonde male unclasped his cloak, tossing the fabric towards Ravenna. She caught it, the material soft as clouds in her hands as she wrapped it around herself, grateful for the warmth.

But there was no warmth in the male’s eyes as he barked at her, “Get up.”

Keeping the cloak wrapped around her blood-soaked body, Ravenna pushed herself up. But her legs buckled, sending her tumbling painfully back to the ground. She hissed in pain, pressing her hand into her stomach where the wound from the arrow was. Her fae healing had kicked in enough that it began to slowly heal, but not nearly fast enough.

“Are you incapable of following orders and standing up?” He hissed angrily.

Despite her pain and exhaustion, fire lit in Ravenna’s veins at his attitude. “I’m not exactly in a position to do so without struggle.” She snapped, unfolding the cloak just enough to reveal the large, unmistakable arrow wound in her stomach.

His blue eyes followed, assessing the wound with impatience. “You’ll live.”

“Unfortunate for you.” She shot back, temper heightened by the ache in her wings.

The male scoffed. “Do you even know who I am?”

“No.”

“I am Lord Celegorm, Prince of the Noldor and third son of Fëanor.” He stuck his chin arrogantly in the air.

Ravenna took a deep breath to steady herself, slouching and rolling her eyes. “I must have hit my head pretty hard. I have no fucking clue what any of that means.”

Surprise crossed Celegorm’s face, and he exchanged an uneasy look with his brother. Curufin shrugged, muttering something in that strange tongue before turning his grey eyes back towards Ravenna. “And who exactly are you, may I ask?” He said dryly.

“Ravenna,” She said. “Princess of the Night Court. Daughter of Ronan, the High Lord.” She introduced herself in a similar manner to Celegorm, snorting at the confusion that continued to grow on his face.

“What are you talking about?” He snapped. “There is no such a court here, or a Lord Ronan.”

Ravenna shrugged. “Now you know how I feel, I guess. Believe me, I don’t know where the hell I am or how I got here. I am just as confused as you. I mean you no harm, I swear by the Mother.”

“That will be for Maitimo to judge.” Was all Celegorm said before reaching down for Ravenna’s trembling, weak body. She did not have time to protest or process what was happening as he reached underneath her wings and legs, lifting her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. The world swayed as she was picked up. Thankfully, he did so in such a manner she remained covered with the cloak.

Still, she did not like being manhandled. “Put me down!” Ravenna hissed furiously, writhing as best she could in his grip. But it was no use – between her weakness, lack of powers, and Celegorm’s sheer size and strength, it was pointless.

Celegorm lifted her onto his horse and set her on the front end of the saddle before climbing up behind her. She winced in pain as his large frame brushed against the incision on her wings. “Watch the wings.” She snapped.

“We are taking you to our eldest brother.” Celegorm said, ignoring her protest but leaning back ever so slightly and relieving the contact on her wings. “He can decide what to do with you. It is half a day’s journey from here, so I suggest you rest while you still can.”

All Ravenna could do was sigh and hold onto the horse’s mane as the prince sent the group forward up the winding mountain pass. She had come no closer to figuring out where she was, or who these strange fae-looking people were.

And she had half a day to do her best to figure it out.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @decadentpostnacho @

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nonbinarypirat · 6 months ago

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One thing I really can’t wait for in the story is for Iruma to put his own spin on archery. Because like Bachiko has repeated, for the most part he has mostly been copying her. Now granted, he’s been mimicking her beautifully and fabulously and it made me happy to see him do a similar move in the Evidol games BUT he’s still replicating all her moves. Which makes sense, he’s still learning, sharping his skills, and he heavily admires his teacher. When you are learning from someone you are of course going to try an match them. There’s no shame in that. But as we have seen throughout the story so far, the students learn to use their abilities to match their personality and become stronger. The main two ways the misfit class have learned new ways to use their abilities is through education (harvest festival, Opera’s lessons, overachiever Asmodeus) and situational circumstances (Purson pushing his invisibility, Iruma's four arrow shot, Iruma's cat mana eating creature).

I think we will see both ways portrayed in Iruma learning new skills but I am personally hoping for a slight leaning towards education while still having him think on the fly new ways to push his archery and magic. And that got me thinking what moves Iruma may learn going forward that feels both doable and fitting for his character. Since the second semester is apparently focused on getting better at magic and a special move, it feels fitting to guess what we may see from Iruma in the future. All of these are archery related ideas for Iruma but I do think he could also have a magical special outside of archery too (after all he did transform Ali-san into a giant mana eating creature and I doubt many can do something similar), I just haven’t thought of a good one for him yet since the possibilities would be too broad. For now though, these are the ideas I have for him.

Scatter shot/friend protection shots: I think a likely special move could be a scatter shot ability where he shoots a bunch of arrows into the air and they all hit their targets. This already matches the cannon arrow shot he did at the Evidol Games with four arrows at once since the targets were at different locations, granted close to each other. This would be different from what we have seen from the Bachiko family ability thus far where they can shoot at one target and never miss, even with a 10,000 arrows (at least that’s the case for the former chief). Granted, they have honed their skills as archers so this probably within their wheelhouse but it’s not their speciality. With this ability, there could be many targets at different locations and yet he could take them all out at once. Which could be doubled as a friend saving move where his friends in the crowd but the arrows only hit their targets. Like a combination of Gaap’s ally wind save and Bachiko’s 100 arrow shot. Fitting of Iruma who loves the bow and arrow because it enables him to protect his friends in a way only he can.

I was also thinking this can be used on a single enemy too if he wanted to hit multiple parts of their body all at once. Kind of like the arrow pin move at The Heartbreaker except the arrows are being fired at the same time. No more wasting time for the next arrow fire when you can do it all together. This would require so much focus and precision because if he was off by even a millimeter, he could accidentally puncher a vital organ instead of halting the opponents movements (unless he was aiming for multiple weak points all at once). And of course, the friend saving part of it would require even MORE concentration and spacial awareness because well... he obviously wouldn't want to kill a friend on accident.

Arrow blast/transformation: I was also thinking that since he has become really efficient at transformation magic maybe it would be possible to combine the arrow magic and transformation magic to turn his arrows into some sort of bomb upon impact. Or it transforms in some way after fire. This one has plenty of potential and is also a fairly common archery hero move so there's def precedent in this move. I have a lot of ideas, it could be a bomb or mana blast. Maybe somehow transform into a creature? I was thinking this based on Robin's bow ability that, while it's just an arrow, is shaped like a bird. But what if it was more creature connected? I don't know if this ability would fully fit Iruma but I think it's a neat concept!

Mana Absorption Fire: A combination of Ali-san's and Iruma's magic, the ability to steal mana from their victim. This would be helpful since it could continously power Iruma to fire more arrows as long as he has feathers. I don't know exactly how this would work from a magic science stand point, but I presume maybe a portion of Ali would be imbued into the shot making it possible. Think Clara's toy box but more in the face about how dangerous it is. This would rule as a power because it not only hurts the target, it would also weaken them magically. And in the netherworld, this esentially halts them in their tracks if they are physically and magically hurt. Now granted, I imagine for more powerful enemies it would take a bunch of arrow shots to mark a significant dent in their magic. And how much magic could be gained from the shot would greatly depend on Iruma and Ali. But still a great concept I think since it would fit with the gluttonous theme when it comes to Iruma.

I have had this in my drafts for a long ass time and decided to fully release it to the world tehe. Before I make any new posts I wanted to get rid of some old ones I’ve had saved. Hope you liked this magic ideas post, if I come up with more I’ll be sure to post a second one. Also, if you have any more ideas or powers he could learn (attack or passive) feel free to comment them!

#iruma-kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #m!ik #mairuma #iruma suzuki #alikred

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glitcheslikeslego · 7 months ago

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Show Me Your Moves! (Chapter 20)

AO3 STORY

Chapter 20 : Spirit Shackle

Spirit Shackle is a damage-dealing move that can prevent the target from switching out or fleeing as long as the user is still in battle. Wimp Out, Emergency Exit, the Red Card, the Shed Shell, and the Eject Button can bypass this effect.

You should stop jinxing yourself like this…

You ended up going down the hole with MK.

And neither of you had a splendid landing.

MK landed on the ground, creating a small crater from the impact, and you unfortunately landed on top of him. Thank goodness he wasn’t too hurt from it.

You rebounded first, immediately getting off of Mk and standing up.You were about to apologise to him too, but DBK's glare was much more menacing in-person than in-cartoon, it made you shrink back in fear.

“Ooh! Wait a minute!” MK groaned as he stretched, and you winced when you heard his back crack.

He stretched some more, rolling his shoulders, ready to fight. “Sun Wukong! Return to defeat me again? I will not let that happen!” DBK yelled out.

MK looked confused. “Uh… I think you got the wrong guy buddy.” The delivery boy was then rudely swatted away by DBK, and you gasped when he turned to you.

Before you could attack, however, Princess Iron Fan swooped in and sent a wind attack at her husband, surprising you. “The canisters. The power within them has driven him mad.” She explained.

MK used his gold vision, and a look of shock came over his face. He nodded. “Okay, time for round two.”

“No.” MK looked over at Red Son in surprise, both him and PIF standing in front of him, brandishing their powers and weapons respectively. “This time, we will fight with you.”

Red Son went in to attack first, and PIF turned to both of you. “You two have one shot, so make it count.”

Okay, still the same, cool.

What wasn’t the same was that DBK was now absurdly fast. He couldn’t stand in one place for one second before quickly dodging an attack. The canisters didn’t even have a scratch on them.

At this point, things were going slower than anticipated.

DBK needed to stop moving, or at least be slower like in canon. You had these wacky powers, but could you slow someone down or stop them completely?

Worth a shot. You thought to yourself.

So while they were still fighting, you raised a hand and visualised a way to stop him, and your brain supplied you with a plan. And your powers activate immediately after.

From the shadows, you had summoned a multitude of sharp arrows, all aimed at DBK. He looked shocked at your display of power but ducked with ease. The arrows landed back in his shadow, and he laughed at your miss.

He went to move at you again, but your plan worked. Because the arrows were made of shadow, and they hit his shadow, his shadow was essentially ‘stitched’ to the ground, making him unable to move.

He tried moving more, thrashing his arms around, but the shadows and arrows had enough. Next thing anyone else knew, chains emerged from the shadows and grabbed onto both his wrists, yanking down and pulling him down onto his knees.

“Get those canisters, MK!” You grunted. This was a lot more difficult than you thought. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold him down!”

With a determined nod, MK let Red Son and PIF move back before summoning a batch of clones to attack the canisters with him.

And as soon as those canisters exploded, you felt a shudder as the mist literally flew through you, which made you release your shadowy arrows and chains. You grunted and stumbled a bit, feeling lightheaded.

The Flaming Foundry began collapsing upon itself, and with a heartfelt moment between DBK and PIF, the entire family disappeared in a whirlwind, leaving you and MK away.

“They couldn’t have teleported us out too!?” MK yelped, grabbing you by the arms and pulling you away from where a rock landed where you just were.

“HEY GUYS!” You looked up to see Mei in MK’s mech. “Hop in, besties!”

Mei safely evacuated you all from the Flaming Foundry and reunited you all with Pigsy, Tang and Sandy. “You did it little buddy, you beat DBK! Again!” Sandy cheered as he hugged you three.

“Good going, kids.” Pigsy praised you three, with Tang nodding along proudly.

MK sighed in relief. “Yeah, I really hope we don’t have any incidents like that for a while.”

MK DON’T JINX US!!!

“I say some celebratory noodles are in order.” Tang said with a smug smile, and while Pigsy huffed, he didn’t go against the idea. Instead, he was the first one walking back to the van while everyone was cheering about noodles.

You followed in the very back, feeling a cold chill in the air again, and you apologised to the poor, innocent girl that the Lady Bone Demon possessed.

Don’t apologise, mortal.

Embrace destiny.

~~~

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okthatsgreat · 11 days ago

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can i ask what your beef is with the dear evan hansen text?? like i agree with you i just wanna know lol

ohhhhh anon you are getting an essay from me LMFAOOO. for a bit of context: im a HUGE musical theatre fan and i was a massive fan during the 2016-2017 period of broadway where a HUGE influx of younger fans were getting drawn in so of course i listened to the soundtrack a ton. but after a bit i looked back at it and sort of understood a lot of its flaws in the base script/lyrics, and upon watching the australian dear evan hansen it became superrrr clear again imo!

ill put my long winding essay down below just because its pretty negative :) and, of course, long and winding

so there are some veryyyyyy distinct issues with the text of dear evan hansen, which i will TRY to pull apart into seperate categories just to make this a bit easier LMFAO.

TONE: tonally, this show is a MESS. it wants to both be a comedy musical while also having very heartfelt discussions around topics of mental health and suicide. in my opinion, while TRICKY, this CAN be done successfully, but was not handled well here. the switch between tone is far too jarring-- in one scene you'll have cynthia mourning her son who just committed suicide, desperate for any information that could connect her to her late child, reaching out to cling onto evan once she sees the cast that connor had signed before his passing. and then it IMMEDIATELY cuts to jared making a sex joke like im not kidding. these moments of grief and seriousness dont get time to breathe before they bring jared in or make connors ghost sing a funny song about not being gay

i know that an argument can be made that this show is supposed to be a "dark comedy"-- even if it was it wasnt done well, but as a whole it's actually not supposed to be a dark comedy. the suicide of connor murphy, evan hansens debilitating anxiety, and the mental wellbeing of these characters are placed in the centre of this show as its primary message. this is a show that marketed itself as being THE mental health show, that brought these issues to light and brings a powerful message about "not being alone". the writers of this show want you to take it very seriously. there are some very well written moments within this text (in my opinion a lot of the arguments the murphys have are well paced, good dialogue, especially towards the end before words fail) but it loses so much of its impact because its shoved in between these scenes of forced levity. so so much of that is the fault of jared as a character but thats a whole other essay

it's an extremely indecisive show over all, and you are going to see that throughout this essay: this show doesnt want to fully commit to one thing, but rather dabble in tinier, vague concepts and never truly go all the way.

MENTAL HEALTH: i am not going to deny that in 2016-2017 when this show was immensely popular, it DID start some sort of discussion. this show did have a very positive impact, specifically on a young demographic, because it did open up avenues for them to discuss issues such as this. at the time there were hardly any musicals targeted towards that demographic, and hardly any musicals that discussed mental health at all (besides shows like next to normal, but they were never that huge with the younger generation). for a young person, or anybody really, to resonate with a show concerning topics of anxiety and suicide is a great thing, and i am not trying to diminish the impact of this show at the time.

but the message of mental health is a very shallow one upon rewatch, unfortunately. as mentioned before, they are SO CLOSE to delving into interesting topics but never want to fully commit to anything. zoe and her opinion of her late brother is a FASCINATING topic that gets swept up in evans lie. we hardly hear much discussion about connors anger issues or mental health topics that are deemed less "palatable"-- in fact, very rarely does this show discuss the elements of mental health that can be seen as less palatable to a wider audience. it NEARLY does, it VERGES on those specific discussions, but never wants to linger too much. or it is fully treated as a joke (connor smokes pot, which can very easily be read as a form of self-medication as the murphys were struggling to stick to a single form of help for him. him smoking is ALWAYS a joke however. this is NOT explicit in the text).

not to mention, its clear that some topics were not well researched or even well examined within the text. i really really loved how the australian alana (carmel rodrigues) portrayed her (i very personally think she played alana as being autistic or at least neurodivergent) however she has a single throwaway line about how she felt invisible and then never mentions this again. this needed to be built up to a LOT better. evan STOPS TAKING HIS MEDICATION during act 2, claiming he "doesnt need them", and it is NEVER mentioned whether or not he starts taking them again. and while medication is a varied topic from person to person, and not everybody has or even wants to take them, the show has framed evan not taking his meds as a personal triumph, in which his life has finally "gotten better" to the point he doesnt need to take them anymore. for many many people this is not the case, especially with anxiety.

the core message of the show, "you are not alone", is also rather hollow. it's a good marketing point and its a great hashtag for the dear evan hansen team to spread on social media but it isn't extremely nuanced. dont get me wrong, sometimes a show doesnt HAVE to be extremely nuanced in a way a show like next to normal is, but to frame your show as THE mental health show with the aim to discuss these topics of suicide and depression seriously (rather than unseriously, like heathers), then it needs to be treated wayyy more carefully. saying "oh if youre sad then just reach out for help", while an okay message for a young audience, isnt very groundbreaking and in fact can come off as a little corny upon rewatch ("you will be found" felt verrrry very cheesy when i watched it live)

THE ANTI-HERO: evan is a teenager who severely fucks up. TREMENDOUSLY. and even though the marketing of this show i think has actually let evan down a little bit in regards to his personality, it isnt JUST due to the fact he has social anxiety. sure, this greatly impacts him and his decisions, but there are many moments within the show where he explicitly states his motives for why he did what he did. he is an awkward, LONELY teenager. while his anxiety not to speak up may have landed him in his situation in the first place, ultimately it is evans desperate need for human connection and family that compels him to keep this lie going.

and in a rather traditional narrative, his schemes would be framed as properly sinister. while he doesnt necessarily have MALICIOUS intentions, he still acts very selfishly and with little foresight. the lies keep piling on and piling on and he feels as though he can not reveal himself, but also he doesnt WANT to. he doesnt want to let everything go, even if he is very VERY in the wrong. this is selfish. and a character can BE selfish!

but while the narrative clearly paints evan as being in the wrong, he is NEVER supposed to be the "villain". nothing he does is truly conveyed as sinisterly as it actually is, and it gets SINISTER. ultimately we are supposed to be ROOTING for evan, as he is meant to represent the core themes of this show: mental health. even if he gets found out we are NEVER shown "true" consequences besides the murphy family getting kind of upset at him and asking him to leave during his song "words fail" where he tells them he used to be so sad and lonely before all of this and thats why he did what he did. it then cuts to him and his mom, where the discussion mostly revolves around HIS mental health and his suicide attempt rather than what he had just done to the murphys. finally after that scene we go to the finale many months later, where the consequences are hardly implied, and its even stated that evan got off LIGHTLY for what he did as the murphys never revealed who wrote connors note. yknow, the note that the entire internet was using as means to harass and dox that grieving family not too long ago

he is never treated as if he is completely in the wrong, and always given that core theme of mental health to hide behind. and because they dont want to discuss the more "unappealing" elements of mental health, or theyre too scared to imply that his anxiety is "making him the villain", evans actions ultimately are forgiven by the narrative.

evan and his family friend dance around the room, creating fake emails for a kid who killed himself in order to fool his mourning parents into believing the two of them were friends. evan stands in front of the school and gives a speech about how much him and connor were friends (even when they werent), and then spearheads a mental health campaign in connors name, all under the pretense that he KNEW and CARED for connor. he, a STRANGER, frequently goes over to the murphys house and allows them to treat him like a pseudo-son, nearly to the point where he accepts a college trust fund from them, which was meant for connor. he LIES to connors sister-- who was having very complicated opinions about connor due to his abuse towards her-- and convinces her that connor actually cared about her the entire time, practically forcing her to view her abusive brother as a better person than he was. and then evan DATES HER.

which brings me to my next and final point--

ZOE: god zoe. she makes me so unbelievably sad. WHY did evan have to have a love interest.

zoe could have been such a fascinating and intriguing character if she was handled with far more care than she had been. connor murphy was very explicitly stated to have been verbally abusive to her and likely physical as well, and at the beginning of the show she is rightly upset with him. she doesnt mourn him for his good parts because to her she doesnt KNOW any good parts. she tells evan that "the last time she can remember connor being nice to her was in his suicide note", which EVAN wrote. zoe was by no means obligated to mourn her brother, but was frequently encouraged (especially by cynthia) to do so, to find the good parts of him to remember. this complicated relationship with grief is fascinating

but evan has a crush on her, and thats when everything starts going downhill. he starts lying to her about what connor had told her ("if i could tell her" is a very creepy song coming from a brother but thats yet again a whole other post HGJKF) and plants false memories of him inside her head. that is FUCKED UP!! he is giving this poor girl, who is battling with her conflicted feelings towards her late abusive brother, false reasons to think fondly of him and invalidating every reason she had to feel anger towards him. because this show wants so desperately for the message to be that "nobody deserves to be forgotten", without any sort of nuance whatsoever, even if the person that died had been terrible to you.

and then they start dating. they start dating, all based on the lies evan had told zoe. before they kiss zoe says "you gave me my brother back", which is a HEARTBREAKING thing to hear from her given what we as the audience know, but this is NOT conveyed NEARLY as sinister as it is actually is. we witness evan be extremely, EXTREMELY selfish, and for the first time this can not be blamed on his anxiety like most other events in act 1 could. this was evan wanting to get with zoe, and it seemingly fell into his lap after he conned this family into believing he knew their estranged, late son. that is horrifying! zoe does not get NEARLY mad enough at him once he tells the murphys the truth! zoe doesnt get any time at all to shine in act 2!!

how absolutely mortifying would it be to realise that the person you were dating is a complete and utter stranger to you! he had been impersonating somebody and staying in your house, sleeping over, DATING you, all under entirely false pretences. and how absolutely mortifying would it be to realise that everything you thought you had finally learned about your brother was a lie? you had finally come to terms with accepting your late brother for his good parts only to realise that all of those alleged "good parts" werent actually true at all?? zoe would practically have to grieve ALL OVER AGAIN. the murphys would have to grieve their son TWICE. this is NEVER touched on. evan does not experience the consequences for this nearly as much as he should, and zoe is not given this resolution or nuance.

if this was done with a little more care this could have been GOOD. this was a terrible, terrible thing evan did. their romance should have always been framed as such. "only us" should not have been written as this charming cute romantic love song. given what the audience knows it is impossible to view this relationship as pure, which is what the writers had intended, and we are all sitting in our seats waiting for the ball to finally drop and this poor girl to finally realise who she is dating. its horrifying! and it doesnt get treated as such!

because ultimately evan is the hero and evan is the person you are supposed to be rooting for, regardless of his actions. ive seen a few arguments saying that this is intentional, that songs like "you will be found" are SUPPOSED to be sinister and hollow because evan is "tricking all of them", but the truth is that was never the writers intention. they wouldnt have made that song their entire marketing campaign if it was supposed to be seen as malicious. the writers were never willing to fully commit to anything, making this show as a whole underbaked and tonally inconsistent.

TLDR; the show has a hollow message and wants to be many different things at once but ultimately succeeds in none of it

#jesus christ. some seething creature just emerged from deep within my chest #im not proof reading any of that congratulations or sorry it happened #ask lee #anonymous

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