#the character and setting are only inspired

[dreamscapeee222]

Do you think you could do something where the reader gets severely hurt and they don't think we'll make it. With arcane characters please (maybe we do or don't make it. Up to you!)

A/n: Up to me, hey? Hehehe

You get severely hurt

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

The sight of you slipping away is something she can never unsee. She’s shouting, desperate, her hands covered in your blood as she tries to keep you conscious. "You’re tougher than this!" she yells, but the fear in her voice betrays her. When you take your last breath, her entire body goes still, the fight in her extinguished.

The days after are a blur of numbness and anger. She avoids everyone, finding solace only in the empty spaces you used to fill. Your death becomes a catalyst for her fierce determination to protect those who can’t protect themselves, but every victory feels hollow without you.

Jinx

She’s laughing nervously, trying to brush off how serious your injuries are. “This is just another mess we’ll get out of, right?” she says, her eyes wide and frantic. But when you go still, something inside her shatters. Jinx spirals, turning her grief into a destructive force. She lashes out at anyone who tries to comfort her, building weapons to channel the rage she can’t escape. Yet, in her quiet moments, she sits with the memory of you, sketching your face over and over in her journal. The pages are messy, chaotic, but they’re her only tether to the part of her heart that still aches for you.

Caitlyn

She’s kneeling at your side, her hands steady but her voice trembling. “Hold on, please. Just hold on,” she begs, her polished exterior cracking as she fights to keep you alive. But when your breathing slows, and your hand slips from hers, Caitlyn freezes. She blames herself endlessly. If she’d planned better, acted quicker, you’d still be here. The grief consumes her, but it doesn’t stop her. Every mission she undertakes, every life she saves, is in your name. She keeps something small of yours—perhaps a locket or a note—tucked away, a quiet reminder of the person who inspired her to be better.

Ekko

Ekko is screaming for help, tears streaming down his face as he cradles you. “Don’t do this to me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. When you go limp, he doesn’t let go, rocking back and forth as the realization sets in. After your death, Ekko throws himself into the Firelights, using his grief as fuel. He paints murals of you, your likeness a beacon of hope for Zaun. But late at night, when he’s alone, he lets himself feel the loss fully, tracing the lines of your face in his memory and wishing he’d had more time.

Jayce

Jayce refuses to believe it’s over. “You’re going to be fine,” he insists, his voice trembling as he presses his coat against your wound. He’s already running through solutions in his head, desperate for something, anything, to save you. But when your eyes close for the last time, he crumbles. He isolates himself in his lab, working tirelessly to invent something that could prevent another loss like yours. He’s haunted by the sound of your laugh, the way you’d tease him when he overworked himself. It drives him, but it also breaks him in ways he’ll never admit.

Viktor

Viktor’s hands shake as he works to stabilize you, his scientific mind running through every possible outcome. But as the light fades from your eyes, his resolve crumbles. “You deserved so much more,” he whispers, his voice hollow. He buries himself in his research, convinced that if he’d only been smarter, faster, he could’ve saved you. Your loss pushes him toward dangerous extremes, his inventions taking on a desperate edge. He doesn’t talk about you often, but every time he looks at the stars, he wonders if you’d forgive the person he’s becoming.

Mel

Mel stays composed until your final moments. “You’re going to be okay,” she says softly, her hand brushing your cheek. But when you’re gone, her shoulders shake with silent sobs, her grief breaking through the mask she always wears. In the days that follow, she immerses herself in her work, using diplomacy and power to ensure no one else has to lose someone the way she lost you. At night, when the palace is quiet, she sits by the window with a glass of wine, whispering your name into the stillness as if you might hear her.

See pinned.

[ambivalence-is-me]

The Lost Princess

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Your life drastically changes after meeting Feyre. You don’t know how to help, you don’t know much of anything really so, how is your life going to be now? In a city you didn’t know existed with people you thought you hated.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: manipulation, perhaps some self-loathing issues, slow burn. This is just like a prologue of their first impressions of each other.

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Glinda from Wicked. I’ve been obsessed ever since I saw it. I wanted that sort of superficial clueless character vibe and this came out. I’ve got so many other ideas so just hear me out okay lol

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You were a fool. A useless fool...and they knew that.

But you didn't want to be one. No, you wanted needed to prove you weren’t a fool. Prove it to them and to yourself.

It wasn’t your fault, even if they didn’t know it but you knew that it wasn’t your fault you had been so...lost.

They didn’t know about all the lies and manipulation you’ve gone through at the hands of your brother.

Your brother, who was probably the one male after the King of Hybern that was so hated, the Inner Circle’s number two enemy..Tamlin.

Let’s backtrack a little...

You are nothing like Tamlin, personality and physically speaking. The only trait you two seemed to share is the shade of green eyes. Hair, facial features, even height, seemed to set you apart from him. And you’ve never been more thankful for it.

Personality wise, while Tamlin seemed to damper every path and flower he passed, you had the opposite effect. A true daughter princess of Spring. You were bubbly, carefree, perky and just so full of life. It had annoyed Feyre at the start. She met you a few days after she had been taken from the mortal lands and forced to live at the Manor. You seemed to appear out of freaking nowhere in a pink dress, small tiara on top of your head and on your face a mask that seemed to be of a dove, beautiful white and gold interlaced throughout it. It was all sunshine and rainbows as if you had come down in a freaking bubble or something.

It irritated Feyre how you walked around and interacted with everyone with such joy when everyone else, especially her, seemed to be on high alert and tense but that tension seemed to leave whenever your presence was by. Feyre couldn’t get any answers from you whenever you conversed. She wanted to know everything about the fae lands, including how to get out, anything but you just didn't know. And later you both learned that it hadn't been Amarantha’s fault but your brothers’.

During Amarantha’s reign you had lived in a bubble (methaphorically speaking). You couldn't remember why one day you woke up wearing a mask, one you couldnt get rid of or even think about why you were wearing it. You didn’t know who was the evil red female who had proclaimed herself High Queen of Prythian or what she had done to all the lands and its people. Nor did you know of your father’s involvement in killing Rhysand’s family and especially didn’t know how he (and your mother and brothers) had been murdered by Rhysand’s father. All of this had gone underperceived by you for decades.

Truthfully, you weren't even supposed to be alive but were meant to suffer your mother’s fate at the hands of Rhysand’s father. And after learning the truth and re-meeting Rhysand properly, looking at the pain and grief hidden behind his violet eyes, you knew it too.

Tamlin, seemingly perceptive of what was coming after what his father had done to Rhysand’s mother and sister, suggested to your father to send you away, hide you far away where they couldn’t find and murder you. It had worked but you couldn't remember where you had been or with who, that part of your life was as if never happened.

After becoming High Lord and Amarantha starting her advances, he went even further to secure your protection and took you somewhere where he knew the sort of people who lived there would help him make sure that you followed every word and instruction he gave. He had them put a spell on you, he had cursed you.

Cursed to forget about the death of your family, cursed to overlooked Amarantha, cursed dismiss the danger they lived in, cursed to believe and follow every word he said, cursed to refrain from thinking too much, to question things, cursed to be clueless. For years.

Feyre thought it was an act. How you looked at everything so positively and nothing could go wrong but then she knew that it wasn’t.

It was never an act, you truly were clueless, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just another one of Tamlin’s victims.

Thats why Feyre gave you a chance. Besides the fact that everything seemed to go over your head, you are a nice, caring, empathetic female. After she was Made, Feyre gravitated more towards you, preferred your company over Ianthe's, sought you out after arguing with Tamlin or Lucien and while you never understood what she had gone through, the trauma and burden she carried (because of the curse), you never turned her away.

Tamlin had noticed how deep your friendship had gotten. And since he knew Feyre was to be taken away at one point by Rhysand because of that stupid bargain, he knew he had to turn you against Rhysand so you could in turn continue to feed into Feyre’s apprehension of the High Lord of the Night Court. How did he do that? He told you the truth...well, some of it.

He revealed the death of your family. He emphasized how merciless it had been and how Rhysand was the only one to blame.

You cried...for hours you wept and screamed. Your mother, your beautiful mother was dead all this time. You had thought she was off in another court with your father accompanying him with some lord duties but instead she had been murdered in cold blood, and you didn't even know.

Feyre knew then that she much preferred to see you smiling and laughing than to see you so heartbroken, to hear your cries was devastating.

And Tamlin had succeeded.

You became so incredibly fearful of the Night Court’s High Lord that you begged Feyre to break the bargain, to never look his way, to hate the cruel and soulless male who had taken your family away from you. And in return, Feyre had hated Rhysand, hated him so much for making you cry, for dimming your light. She also had fallen under Tamlin’s trap. But of course, that all changed.

It changed when it didn't get any better for Feyre, when Tamlin’s actions were feeding into her pain, when he locked her inside the Manor. You of course had no idea he had done this; you didn't even recall when Morr had rescued her. You heard the explosion and when you arrived at the scene, Feyre was already gone. Tamlin had been furious and told you Rhysand was to blame, that he had kidnapped your friend and that he had to find and bring her back.

You, of course thanks to the curse, believed him and you were extremely worried for her. Fear ran through your body and you prayed everyday to the Mother that no harm would come to her, that she weren’t suffering your mother’s fate.

Months passed and you remained none the wiser to what was happening outside the Manor’s walls. Whispers of war roomed the halls, some kind of Hybern involved, you hardly saw your stressed brother. Lucien being the one to accompany you at times for dinner. But he never revealed anything, of the war, of Feyre and you continued to stay clueless and out of the loop.

It wasn’t like you didn't want to know or that you didn't try. You did, you tried to ask around, to the servants, the sentries, but they all knew the spell you were under and knew better than to reveal anything Tamlin didn't want you to know. And you hated it. You felt so frustrated that you were doing meaningless things around the Manor while your friend, your only friend, was off in another court probably being tortured and you weren't doing anything to help her. After Tamlin had popped part of your bubble, you felt the need to be more hands on but you just didn't know where to start. At one point, you tried writing down the whispers you heard, along with questions you had, or any information obtained, and you tried to piece it all together by yourself. But nothing made sense. Nothing would continue to make sense when your brother had the power to take knowledge away from you.

Everything started to change for you with Feyre’s return. You were delighted that she was back, that your brother had rescued her from the Night Court. You hugged her so hard that for a second Feyre had forgotten her plan to ruin Tamlin. She remembered all the time both spent together, remembered and felt the care you had for her. And it was then that she knew that somehow she had to convince you to run away with her, to help you ruin your brother. After all of the things she went through in Velaris, all the knowledge and new perspective she gained, Feyre recognized you to be another prey fallen into Tamlin’s claws.

And you needed to get out. But by then, she didn’t know of the curse that was befallen on you. All she knew is that you believed every little word Tamlin uttered, that you blindly followed his every instruction, and she couldn't believe how she had never pieced the pieces together before. So, with more conviction than ever, under the wards and glamours in her bedroom at the Manor, Feyre told you everything. Of Amarantha's curse, what your family had done to Rhysand, what Tamlin did to her, of Velaris and the Inner Circle, Hybern, her mating bond, her sisters being Made and even of her plans to destroy the Spring Court. Slowly, Feyre took off the blindfold that had been forcedly put on you for decades. She talked and you listened, tears running down your face, for hours. Well into the night and again when the sun came up.

It was extremely difficult to believe her. How could you? When everything she was saying went against everything your brother had told you. Feyre knew that risk, that you wouldn't believe her but she held nothing back. She answered all your questions, worries and even hugged you.

You promised Feyre you wouldn't tell a word to anyone of what she had expressed. And you kept that promise but it didn't mean that you still full heartedly believed her. You wanted to, something inside you was screaming that it was the truth and that you had been an idiot to believe Tamlin.

But you couldn't understand, if Feyre was telling the truth then, why Tamlin had lied? Why had he kept so much from you? Tamlin, your older brother who fiercely protected you when you were a child, would read to you at nights, played with you, gave you attention when the rest of your brothers only ignored you. He was your favorite brother, your first hero, the first male you had told ‘’I love you’’ too. How can you change this image you have of him so fast when for all of your life he had been your rock? How can someone who claimed to love you do the complete opposite of love? You couldn't understand.

But then you remembered he lied about your family’s death, kept that from you. And using the same train of thought then that means, yes he could have hid so much more from you. And before making any decision in regards to following Feyre, you tried, just one more time, to get information out of your brother.

You asked him one question ‘’How did you find Feyre?’’.

He had looked up at you and said : ‘’It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s here now and that she’s safe. Keep her company and help in whatever she needs. You will do that right, sister?’’.

The spell made you nod without you even being aware that you were nodding and replied ‘’Of course, brother. I will help Feyre with anything she needs.’’

He smiled and dismissed you.

That did it for you. You couldn't explain why you had accepted his truth so fast, why you didn't question him further, why your mind seemed to be battling itself. It was maddening.

And so, you agreed to be part of Feyre’s plan to run away. She told you she was to accompany Lucien, the twins and Jurian to the forest. As per usual, you were expected to stay in the Manor while everyone did, well, everything else. But this time, when everyone left, you were to grab a bag with essentials and leave. Feyre pointed out a meeting spot where you were to wait for her there and then continue the path to the Night Court.

It was the most terrifying thing you had ever done.

‘’What about my guard?’’ You asked her, worried about your escape since Tamlin had appointed a sentry to be your guard whenever he or Lucien weren't in the Manor.

‘’I’ll take care of it. Just meet me there and wait. No matter what you hear, wait for me there. I will come find you, I promise’’.

And she had been right. Whatever she had done to your guard well, she took care of it since there didn't seem to be any near you, making your exit far smoother than you expected. Even if inside you were terrified, every neuron in your brain screamed at you to go back inside the Manor and wait for Tamlin. But you pushed through, for Cauldron’s sake did you push through. Every step away from the Manor, from Tamlin seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, making it hard for you to continue, as if there was an invisible force trying to pull you back (the curse).

When you made it to the meeting point you cried. You were feeling an immense amount of fear of this new life you were heading towards to. You were also feeling proud of yourself for committing and making it there but then the fear came back when hours went by and there was no sign of Feyre. You waited, just like you said, no matter if you were terrified of being alone in the woods. In the same woods you now knew ran part of Amarantha’s creatures. You were honest to the Mother about to piss yourself out of fear when you heard her. Feyre, she was coming. And she was not alone.

Lucien ran with her and they both looked worse for wear. You barely managed to speak when she grabbed your hands and urged you to run, tagging you along with them. You saw Lucien’s expression; he was probably confused by your involvement in all of this and he was worried of what would happen to you since he knew of the limitations of the curse. And yet, he stayed quiet and ran along with you both.

It was extremely hard for you to keep along with them. They were fighters, they were fit, they’ve been in battle before, but not you. You were just..well...a princess. You knew nothing of survival or fighting skills and they all knew that but they also knew they couldn't stop if they wanted to stay alive, to fulfill Feyre’s plans.

And made it you had.

With some great trouble along the way involving Lucien’s brothers but thankfully two Illyrian soldiers quite literally fell from the sky and rescued the three of you out of there.

Azriel and Cassian, Feyre had introduced.

And you of course took one look at them and nearly fainted. You were trying so hard not to show your fear but knew you were failing spectacularly. You’ve heard of their kind, from your father and Tamlin, of how ruthless they were, how they had no respect for females and enjoyed tearing them apart. But no, Feyre trusted them, had expressed there was nothing to fear, that they wouldn't harm you. And while everything inside you that was holding you back in Spring was telling you that it was a lie, you tried and believed her.

And now here you were. In this city you’ve never heard of, in a court where only bad things have been said, with only two other faes you knew, surrounded by others who apparently aren't evil at all. After all, in their eyes, you were the evil one, you were the villain in their story.

You met them all, the inner circle and they all stared at you. It was clear that they didn't trust you nor Lucien. But the way they treated you was different. With you it was like they didn't know how to treat you, as if they didn't know what to do with you. And well, you didn't know what to do with you either.

You were a fool, a useless fool.

They figured that out the moment Morrigan began asking questions and all you did was stare at her, mouth a bit open. Because of course, you didn't know the answer to any of her questions and you could see they were growing exasperated with you.

They all showed it differently. Rhysand hadn't met your eye once since you’ve been in the room, his jaw firm and looking anywhere else but you. The Morrigan vividly rolled her eyes at you and instead moved her attentions to Lucien. A smaller female than you with silver glowing eyes had taken one look at you and shook her head. Cassian, the big male with long hair and red jewels, was openly glaring and eyeing Lucien with distaste. And then, Azriel.

The most handsome male you’ve ever seen in all your life. While Rhysand and Cassian were also handsome, Azriel was a different type of handsome. One you couldn't quite explain. The best way your heart could capture it was by thinking that he was like the prince you always thought you’d end up married to. The handsome male described in those romance books you read. The one you hoped had a dazzling personality you longed for, to swept you off your feet and leave you breathless. And he did definitely leave you breathless but not in the way a female wants.

Right off the bat you’ve noticed that Azriel was quiet, the quietest of them all. He seemed to be analyzing everything, blending into the shadows that followed his every breath. And although he hadn't spoken your way once, his body language screamed that he wanted nothing to do with you.

And that hurt.

These people didn't owe you anything. On the contrary, you were the one invading their home, their safe space, you were the enemy so the least you could do is...what? Exactly what were you expected to do?

This only seemed to aggravate you further.

They don't know you, they don't know your heart, quite frankly besides existing, you’ve done nothing to harm any of them. Your hands and your heart were clean. And you didn't know this but that is exactly why Azriel, Rhysand and the rest had a hard time looking your way and accepting you.

You’ve done nothing. While they’ve gone through hell and back, what have you done? In their minds, you’re just a perfect little princess that can do no wrong.

And were they? Were they wrong? They weren't. Tamlin made sure you stayed pure, innocent, protected from danger so that you didn't need to lift a finger if you ever needed anything. But that was it, all your life had been dictated by someone else. Your thoughts, opinions and ideals were implanted by Tamlin.

It was time to start thinking of your own, to start creating a life of your own without Tamlin’s influence.

Without his curse.

The curse that only Lucien knew the existence and Feyre suspected of.

It was time to start battling everything you’ve been taught and fight for what you want. While you still needed to figure out what exactly it is that you want, you were going to do it. It was time to prove to yourself and to these new people that you were capable of more, of being more than just a foolish lost princess.

How were you going to do it? You had no idea, but you hope that the beautiful male with hazel eyes and scarred hands would wait long enough for you to give you a chance or perhaps, he could be the one to help you.

[ellieputellas]

the bird | a.putellas x reader

You’re a model student at a religious boarding school, expected to uphold tradition, and never question the path laid out for you. But when Alexia Putellas moves to your boarding school for reasons unknown, you struggle to reconcile your religious devotion with the new, unfamiliar feelings you have for Alexia.

tags: troublestudent!Alexia, modelstudent!reader, angst, fluff, religious guilt, religious trauma, forbidden love, friends-to-lovers, slight slow burn, tension, school setting, eventual smut in preceding parts (will tag those parts) warnings / notes: will contain homophobic sentiments from other characters, religious themes that may be sensitive to some people (including questioning religious beliefs), alexia and reader are both around 19 years old

partially inspired by this request and also beyond salvage by @angelsforthenight (and my own religious experience lol)

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤchapter one 🕊 other chapters

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPROLOGUE.  The Bird.

“We have high expectations of you,” Sister Superior Philomena said, her voice measured and steady as she adjusted her glasses. She looked up briefly from the papers she was meticulously arranging. “And time and time again, you have not only met but surpassed those expectations.”

“Yes, sister,” you replied softly, your tone respectful and subdued. The nun offered a small, approving smile before neatly assembling a set of documents. You stood attentively, your posture impeccable—back straight, shoulders poised with quiet confidence. 

Having been a student at Instituto Santa Eulalia Mártir since you were 8 years old, you had long since absorbed the institution's unspoken code of conduct. The perfect student carried themselves with pride but never arrogance. They spoke with clarity and conviction, yet knew the value of restraint. They displayed individuality and a strong sense of self but never had an overpowering, flamboyant personality. In just over a decade, you have become the embodiment of these ideals—a model student who was silent but not shy, strong but humble to a fault. You were practically a nun-in-the-making, as your peers have joked.

“These are the profiles of the new arrivals,” Sister Philomena said, sliding a slim file across the desk with deliberate care. “Five freshmen, a few sophomores, and one senior.”

You paused, eyebrows lifting slightly. “A senior?”

She inclined her head in confirmation. “Alexia Putellas Segura,” she said, tapping the topmost profile with her pen. “We rarely admit students at such a late stage, but this is an exception. She has transferred from one of our sister academies.”

Your gaze dropped to the profile. The photograph was of a brunette girl with striking features and soft hazel eyes, her expression neutral, almost guarded. As you scanned the page, nothing immediately stood out to you. “Sister, if I may ask—why has she transferred?”

Sister Philomena sighed, her hands folding neatly over the desk. “The reason, I’m afraid, is all too familiar. A troubled soul.” Her voice softened with a trace of pity. “As she is in your year, I have decided she will share a dormitory with you. I entrust you with the responsibility of guiding her, molding her into a student who reflects the values of this institution. Can I count on you for this?”

You nodded solemnly. “Yes, Sister.”

Your gaze returned to the photograph attached to the profile. You traced your fingers over the typed name – Alexia Putellas Segura.

You looked through her profile which had not much information about the girl aside from her age, address, and other basic data. Her grades seemed good and she seemed to be active in her extracurriculars. So, why is she here? What trouble did she get into?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤACT I. The Arrow.

Alexia Putellas was more beautiful and captivating than you expected.

She stood taller than most of your peers which was made more intimidating since it was paired with some kind of silent confidence – tall, composed, self-assured. She was quiet but not shy. There was nothing hesitant about her; she was reserved but not shy. Her eyes, sharp and attentive, seemed to notice everything.  And those eyes… you just could not get over how beautiful they were. A stunningly warm hazel with golden specks.

It would be an understatement to say that you were completely captivated by the sight of her.

“Okay, girls, let’s introduce ourselves by saying our names, nicknames, and favorite things to do in your free time.” The overenthusiastic novice Sister Catherine chirped in the new student orientation where you were present together with a couple of other seniors. “Let’s start with our current students!” Sister Catherine nodded at you. You smiled, trying to make eye contact with every new student but your eyes just kept drifting  back to Alexia whose gaze felt too intense for your liking. You kept your hands clasped behind your back. “Good afternoon, new students.” You said before introducing your name. “I’m a senior. I serve as praepostor of the Dorm de Santa Rosa on the first level of this building. In my free time, I enjoy reading the Bible, embroidery, and volunteering in the library.”

Your words were met with polite nods, but as your gaze briefly flicked to Alexia, you noticed a faint smile curve her lips before she glanced down at her shoes. There was an entertained look in her eyes. You bit your lip, feeling suddenly conscious which you never felt before. 

The introductions continued, but your attention was frustratingly divided. You could barely focus, your mind circling back to Alexia. The way she carried herself, the unreadable expressions on her face, even the firm, athletic build she possessed—it was all distracting in a way you didn’t know how to name.

When it was finally her turn, her voice was calm, low, and self-assured. “I’m Alexia Putellas. Senior,” she said, her gaze locking onto yours with unnerving directness. Something about the intensity of her eyes sent a shiver through you. “I, uh… like football.”

You nodded politely, managing a small smile. Football. That explained her build, her quiet confidence… the biceps that showed whenever she crossed her arms. But as your thoughts began to drift into admiration—or something more troubling—you caught yourself. I don’t think I should be looking at her like this. But… she’s just another girl. And I’m a girl too. Is it wrong to notice her this much?

Your internal scolding fizzled the moment she smiled at you again. It wasn’t much, just a fleeting expression, but it left you warm and inexplicably flustered. Whatever it was you were feeling, it unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

The other praepostors of the dorms had come to a unanimous decision: a pajama party would be the perfect way to introduce the new girls to life at Santa Eulalia. The event was meant to be lighthearted, a blend of camaraderie and tradition, designed to ease the newcomers into their new environment while showcasing the values of the institution.

You took the task of preparation seriously. Each welcome basket was carefully assembled with thought and precision, a reflection of the standards you upheld as a praepostor. Inside each basket, you included a neatly folded school shirt embroidered with the Instituto’s emblem, a new rosary with polished beads, a selection of prayer cards featuring saints and scripture verses, and a modest set of toiletries—simple but elegant. You even tied each basket with a satin ribbon in the school colors, a final touch of warmth and care.

The other dorm heads welcomed their respective new students, handing them their baskets and chatting enthusiastically. While you might have been the nun’s favorite student, you didn’t find it easy to relate and interact with fellow students. They all felt you were too cold, too uptight and rigid, even if you didn’t intend to. This just made it difficult for you to seem warm and open to the new student Alexia. 

Usually, you could draw energy from the excitement of a group of new students but now, it was just you and Alexia. And, Alexia was more quiet than you expected. It wasn’t exactly easy to bounce your energy off of someone as guarded and calculated as you were.

You led her to the farthest room at the end of the hallway, where the two of you would be sharing the space. The room was meant to house four students, but over the past year, many had transferred to more secular academies, leaving several beds vacant. Alexia set her bag down with a deliberate air, and you handed her the welcome basket, trying to gauge her reaction.

She sat on the edge of the bed and began sifting through the contents with slow, deliberate movements. Her expression was unreadable as she picked up the prayer cards, flipping through them one by one. You noticed the faintest curve of her lips as she did so—a smile, but one you couldn’t quite decipher. Was she genuinely touched by the gesture? Or was it amusement at the pious simplicity of it all?

“Thanks,” she said at last, her voice low and restrained, yet not unkind.

You nodded, hesitating for a moment before sitting on the edge of your pristinely made bed across from hers “You’re welcome, Alexia.” You replied, carefully. Then, after a brief pause, you ventured.  “So… you like football?”

She glanced up at you then, her hazel eyes momentarily meeting yours before she returned her attention to the basket. Something about the way she looked at you unsettled you, not in a bad way, but in a way that made you feel hyper aware of yourself. Alexia hummed. “Yeah, I do. I used to play as a midfielder in my old academy.”

You nodded, unsure of how to continue the conversation, knowing fully well it was off limits to ask “trouble students” why they ended up in the Institute. Alexia smiled, noticing your hesitation and. “And you? You like football?”

You nodded quickly. “If watching the girls play during sports week counts.”

She chuckled, a warm sound that made you relax slightly. “Of course, it counts.”

Silence followed, and you felt an awkward pressure to keep the conversation going. You’d already shared everything important on the walk to the dorm—school history, the names of the sisters she would encounter, and a rundown of the cafeteria food. What else was there to say? Ask her about her favorite Bible verse? That seemed…awkward.

“So, Alexia,” you said finally, grasping for a neutral topic, “do you like to read?”

 She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I do, but probably not the same things you read.” “How do you know what I read?” You immediately worried it sounded defensive, so you glanced down, hoping it didn’t come across as rude.

She smiled, noticing your reaction. “Hmm, you mentioned you liked reading the Bible just a while ago so I assumed you mostly read that.”

“Oh,” You said softly. “Yes, I do…of course.”

Alexia’s smile lingered, but her gaze grew a touch more curious. “Are you, like, the president of our year level?”

You shook your head, grateful for the change in topic. “Oh no, there aren’t any presidents here. Just dormheads like me. We take care of dorm activities and…” You hesitated. “Yeah.. mostly that.”

Her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “And watch over troublemakers like me?”

You felt your cheeks warm. “Well, not exactly. We just remind everyone of the virtues we uphold in this academy.”

Her smile turned into a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry, monjita,” she said, her voice dropping into a playful tone as her lips curved into the faintest smirk. “I wouldn’t dare ruffle your feathers.” (trans. monjita – little nun)

You weren’t particularly close to other students. They always found you too uptight, too rigid, a perception that left you feeling isolated despite your good intentions. However, Ingrid was one of the few exceptions—a rare friend with whom you could talk easily. She was a year younger than you, yet she carried herself with a confidence and ease that often surpassed your own.

Having transferred from a sister school in Norway, Ingrid had quickly adapted to life at Santa Eulalia despite her initial struggles with Spanish and Catalan. Her cheerful demeanor and genuine kindness had endeared her to both students and staff, earning her the role of dorm head almost immediately after her arrival.

“Darling, have you tasted the cookies I baked with Maria?” Ingrid’s voice was as warm as the smile she wore, and she presented you with a basket of sugar cookies. “They’re actually decent, considering we had no idea what we were doing. Sister Cathy had to step in and save us.”

You winced slightly at the use of the nickname for the junior nun, knowing the more senior nuns would never approve of shortening their chosen names—it was far too casual for their liking. But you let it slide, worried that if you corrected her, you might come across as overly strict and risk alienating your one true friend.

“Ingrid, you should meet Alexia.” You said, stepping aside as you introduced the new student who was trailing behind you. Alexia politely smiled at the taller Norwegian, before offering her hand. 

Ingrid’s expression immediately brightened as she extended her hand. “Alexia! You must be the girl from our other sister school. I came from a sister school as well… but from Norway.” She beamed warmly. “You’re lucky to be sharing the same room as the best dorm head this school has to offer.”

Your cheeks warmed at Ingrid’s exaggerated praise, and you offered her a shy, almost embarrassed smile.

Alexia smiled at Ingrid before carefully looking at you. “Seems like it.”

Something about the way Alexia looked at you made you feel exposed, and you quickly tried to shake off the awkwardness her gaze stirred in you. “Uh, Ingrid,” you began, trying to redirect the conversation. “Alexia plays football, too.”

Ingrid’s eyes lit up. “Does she? That’s fantastic! What position?”

You stepped back slightly, letting the two of them ease into the conversation. Alexia answered Ingrid’s questions with quiet confidence, and though her initial replies were short, you could see her slowly starting to open up. As you observed, you began to notice nuances about Alexia that hadn’t been apparent before.

She wasn’t just reserved—she was thoughtful, deliberate in the way she spoke and carried herself. When Ingrid asked a question, Alexia listened intently before replying, her answers polite and measured. Despite her firm demeanor, there was a gentleness in the way she engaged with Ingrid, an unspoken respect that made the interaction feel natural and unforced.

Watching them talk, you realized that Alexia wasn’t difficult to connect with because she was closed off, but because she paid attention—careful, almost wary attention—to the people around her. You couldn’t help but wonder how you exactly felt about being subject to her perception. What does she think when she looks at me?

The pajama party started getting rowdy as the night passed and the nuns retired to their quarters

And by rowdy, that just meant as rowdy as a Catholic, all-girls school sleepover could be. That just meant a bunch of girls laughing, eating sweets, and giggling over magazines or board games. Somewhere amidst the muted chatter, Ingrid, Alexia and you were somehow roped into a circle with the new students.

You noticed that most of the old students sitting with you in a circle were also the ones who transferred due to being “trouble students.” You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite; you were always made to be the example for the troubled students. It made you feel out of place, unsure of what stories you could share that wouldn’t sound out of step.

Anna, a sophomore with braces and a nervous smile, shifted in her seat before speaking. “My mom was done with me after I got caught skipping class to hang out at the arcade. I just… I didn���t want to say no to my friend, you know? But I guess it didn’t matter because we’re not even friends anymore now that I’m here.” Her words slowed as she reached the end, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. But then she perked up slightly, like she was willing herself to be optimistic. “Still, I don’t mind too much. It’s kinda nice, being away and meeting new people.”

The group cooed and broke into a silent chorus of murmured affirmation. As the circle’s de facto senior—and someone the younger students clearly looked up to—you felt compelled to step in.

“Anna,” You chimed in respectfully, your tone firm yet kind.“Just remember that the people you surround yourself with can really shape who you are.” You paused to let the words settle. You weren’t the most social person but you did give good advice. “Just remember Proverbs 13:30 – ‘walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harms.’”

The group collectively nodded. You continued. “The right friends will lift you up and the wrong ones will pull you down. I know it’s tough starting fresh, but you’re in the right place to find people who will bring out the best in you.” You smiled at Anna whose eyes had softened.

Anna’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the circle felt lighter. The tension had dissipated, and even Ingrid offered a small, approving smile. But as you glanced at Alexia, you caught something else entirely — a faint, knowing smirk.

It was the kind of look that made you second-guess yourself, that made your pulse quicken in a way you couldn’t quite explain. Was she amused? Impressed? Mocking you? Her expressions always left you grasping for answers, and the more you tried to ignore them, the harder it became.

Before you could unravel it, Anna turned to Alexia, her curiosity unguarded. “So, Alexia… why are you here?” The question hung in the air. Alexia’s smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of hesitation.

You jumped in before she could respond. “Anna,” you said, careful to keep your tone even, “the sisters discourage us from asking about someone’s past unless they choose to share it. Alexia’s reasons are her own.”

Anna blinked, realizing her mistake. “Oh… I’m sorry,” she murmured.

You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “What’s more important is how we grow and learn from the past, and not fixate on the mistakes themselves.”

The circle seemed to accept this, returning to their quiet hum of chatter. Yet, deep down, you felt a pang of regret. You wanted to know why Alexia was here, too. It was the right thing to do, you told yourself—the sisters had made that clear. Still, the question lingered in your mind, refusing to be silenced.

What had brought her here? And why did it feel like the answer mattered more to you than it should?

As the chatter and laughter continued in the background, you found yourself retreating to the corner of the common room, more concerned with tidying up the scattered plates and cups than joining the conversation. Besides, as soon as the chatter turned into crushes and past boyfriends, you knew your presence was neither wanted nor important to the group. Growing up in the institute, relationships were foreign to you, a concept you understood but never experienced. Even if you were around the age other people got boyfriends or even crushes, you never really had anything remotely close to a relationship. 

Even in the rare interactions with boys from the brother academy, no one had ever sparked that fluttering, heart-racing feeling you’d seen in movies or heard about in whispered gossip. It wasn’t for a lack of trying from the boys’ end. A lot of boys liked you; you’ve always caught the eyes of several peers from the brother academy. However, you were convinced that that was just because you were their mother’s dream daughter-in-law and they’ve hyped you up to their sons. Regardless of all the interest and attempts, no one piqued your interest. No one has even close to making you blush.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on the small of your back. The sensation sent a jolt through your body. “Not interested in girl talk, I see?”

The voice was low, smooth. You turned, and Alexia stood closer than expected. Her hazel eyes locked onto yours, her expression unreadable yet undeniably captivating. You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the nearness of her and the intensity of her gaze.

“Oh—Alexia,” you stammered, fumbling with a stack of plastic cups in your hands. “I didn’t see you there.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile. “You were pretty focused. What are you up to?”

“Just cleaning up,” you replied quickly, avoiding her eyes. “I can’t stand a mess, and I know everyone will be too tired to deal with it later.”

Alexia hummed thoughtfully. “Mind if I help?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” You shook your head, feeling your cheeks warm under her steady gaze. “I’m sure the others would appreciate your company more. Talking about crushes has to be more interesting than… this.”

She chuckled softly, her voice like a low ripple of amusement. “Honestly, cleaning up sounds better than hearing another story about some guy from one of the brother schools. It’s all the same anyway.”

You smiled. “Well, we make sure to recycle here. Same rules in our room apply here, which I already told you about.” You nodded. “But if you need assistance, just let me know.”

“Responsible and hands-on,” Alexia observed, picking up a pile of paper plates. Her tone was casual, but her eyes lingered on you, as if she were studying you. “No lucky guy’s noticed that about you yet?”

You sighed. “I’m not interested in relationships.” Your voice was quieter than intended.

“Ah, I see.” Alexia’s smirk turned playful. “So, you’re planning to actually become a nun, Monjita?” She leaned closer, her teasing tone wrapping around the pet name. “I bet you’d look cute in those headscarves, robes, and cross necklaces.”

Suddenly, you were getting flustered, blushing, and out of words. You opened your mouth to correct her — that they were called habits, not headscarves — but nothing coherent came out. You were way too flustered. Alexia’s smirk widened, clearly pleased by your reaction. 

She chuckled. “So, you’ve really never had a crush?”

You paused then shook your head, barely meeting her eyes. “No, I don’t think so.” You peeked a look at the taller girl, seeing her put all the paper plates in the bin. “Probably wouldn’t like the feeling of having a crush, honestly.”

She arched an eyebrow, her gaze still fixed on you. “Interesting.” She continued stacking plates as if the conversation were the most natural thing in the world. “But if you’ve never had a crush, how would you even know what it feels like?”

The question lingered, heavier than you expected. You glanced at her, unsure of how to answer. “I don’t know, blushing and flustered whenever they look at you… intimidated and nervous around them? It just doesn’t seem appealing to me.” you admitted. “Maybe I just… haven’t met the right person.”

Alexia’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe,” she said simply. “Or maybe you’re just not looking.”

Her words settled in the air between you. You gazed again at Alexia whose expression was unreadable. Before you could muster a response, she reached for the cups in your hands, her fingers brushing yours briefly. 

“But enough about that,” she said lightly, breaking the tension. “I’m more interested in recycling than rehashing crushes.”

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and nodded. Together, the two of you worked in silence, the background noise fading as the common room gradually emptied.

When the last of the mess was cleared and the others had gone to bed, you found yourself sitting beside Alexia on the worn-out couch. The quiet felt comfortable, though charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

After a moment, Alexia turned her head to look at you. “So…” She began, her voice softer now. “You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

You frowned, trying to recall. “What question?”

Her smirk returned, subtle and teasing. “Do you want to be a nun?”

You paused, deep in contemplation. You looked around, checking if anyone was within earshot. You hummed. “I used to,” You paused, fiddling with your thumbs. “But now… I don’t know. I’ve always loved God. I love the Church. I have always devoted my life to it…”

Alexia leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. “But…” Alexia asked gently, her tone coaxing yet patient.

You didn’t know why you felt so comfortable with someone you just met but it all felt so natural with Alexia. You’ve always been so guarded with other people, especially when it comes to your faith. But something about her… you just felt at peace. You couldn’t help but open up.

“I feel like there’s something missing in my life.” You said under your breath. “I pray to God, ask Him to tell me what’s missing in my life or why I haven’t felt fulfilled despite devoting and pouring my all to the Church…” 

You trailed off, your voice faltering under the weight of your own vulnerability. When you dared to glance at her, you were met with a concerned expression that made your heart tighten.

“Alexia, I know it’s wrong to feel this way,” you said quickly as if trying to justify yourself. “I know I shouldn’t expect anything in return for my devotion, but sometimes — sometimes I just feel incomplete.”

The silence that followed was deafening, each second stretching longer than the last. You regretted speaking, regretted opening up. Maybe you had said too much. Maybe Alexia would think you were ungrateful, or worse, weak in your faith.

But then she spoke, her voice steady and kind. “Monjita,” she said softly, using the nickname again, but this time without the teasing edge. “You don’t have to defend yourself. I get it.”

Your eyes snapped to hers, and you were struck by the warmth in her gaze. In the dim light of the room, her hazel eyes seemed to glow, and the intensity of her soft expression sent a ripple of heat through you.

You bit your lip, trying to steady yourself. “You do?” you whispered, almost afraid to believe her.

She nodded, her lips curling into a faint, reassuring smile. “Sometimes… even when you give everything to something, it still doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong. It just means you’re human.”

Her words settled over you like a blanket, comforting but unfamiliar. You weren’t used to being seen like this, to someone understanding parts of you you hadn’t fully understood yourself.

The way Alexia looked at you then — steady, unblinking, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the room — made your breath hitch. Her gaze was different now, more intense, and it sent a rush of warmth through your chest.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your face was heating up. You tore your eyes away, focusing on the floor to compose yourself, but when you glanced back at her, she was still watching you with that same expression… but somehow, more intense. You swore that, for a moment, her eyes fluttered to her lips.

Your heart raced, and suddenly, you felt flustered all over again, the warmth in her gaze threatening to undo you completely. Uh oh.

As the weeks passed, you and Alexia found yourselves spending more and more time together — breakfasts, walking to class, hanging out between lectures, and even doing homework side by side. Alexia had a habit of accompanying you to the chapel during your daily rosary. She never prayed aloud, but she’d sit quietly beside you, her presence steady and unwavering.

Even if you spent so much time together, you still felt uneasy around Alexia. It wasn’t discomfort with Alexia herself, but with how she made you feel. You didn’t know what to make with the intensity of her gaze or the way she smiled at you. Mostly, you didn’t know what to make of the way she made you feel – heart racing, palms clammy, feeling overwhelmed by her presence. 

You loved being around Alexia. She was kind and attentive in ways you’d never experienced before. She noticed the little things: how you tried to be modest with your breakfast portions and would slyly slide extra pancakes onto your plate when you finished. She’d reach for the high shelves in the library without you even asking, or patiently guide you through Spanish essays, her explanations both thorough and encouraging. You truly loved being with her.

But at the same time, you began to think that perhaps some distance would help. You needed clarity—time to pray, reflect, and ask God for guidance about the novel emotions that had taken root within you.

Luckily, Ingrid came in the clutch and invited Alexia to train with the school’s football team just to see how she would like it. Of course, Alexia agreed under the condition that you would watch her during her first time.

You acquiesced. This was supposed to be our time apart, you thought. But the idea of supporting Alexia made your resolve falter. After all, she had sat through countless rosary sessions just to be near you. Watching her play for a little while wouldn’t hurt, right? What could possibly go wrong?

But you were wrong.

Seeing Alexia on the field was something else entirely. The way she moved, so fluid and confident, was mesmerizing. The ball seemed like an extension of her, every pass, every run executed with effortless grace. Your cheeks warmed, even in the brisk wind, and your heart pounded despite sitting still on the cool grass. The feelings stirring within you didn’t just linger; they intensified.

Things got worse on your walk to the showers. Alexia was still radiating the heat of the match, her hair damp and her skin glowing from exertion. She walked close — too close — and the warmth of her presence made your head spin. You tried to create space, stepping slightly farther away, but Alexia noticed.

Alexia chuckled softly before linking her arms with yours, forcing you to be closer to her. “Why are you so far, monjita? Do I smell?” She teased.

No, you smell too good, actually…

“N-nothing,” You stumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

It was becoming apparent to Alexia just how flustered you got around her. She didn’t want to scare you off but she also found it so cute how you reacted and just how clueless you seemed to be about your own emotions.

It was just so endearing to her. She already thought you were beautiful from the moment she met you but it wasn’t just your appearance. It was your quiet kindness, your humility, and the way you so easily became flustered in her presence. It was utterly charming. And, to her surprise, she was beginning to develop a huge crush on you.

Of course, given the circumstances, she wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate those feelings. So, she figured the best approach was to tease you just enough to see if you’d slip up first. Which is why, as soon as the two of you entered the shower room, she decided to remove her shirt without a second thought.

Your eyes widened at the sight of your roommate’s uncovered torso. You quickly spun around, quietly gasping. Alexia smirked. “Alexia,” You croaked out, unable to keep the nervousness from your voice.

Alexia chuckled as she smirked. “What? You act like you’ve just seen a ghost…”

You stammered, your voice coming out in an embarrassed truth. “Uh, Alexia, you shouldn’t be removing your clothes in front of people like that.”

Alexia smiled, clearly enjoying the fact that you were flustered. “Monjita, I don’t see anything in the Bible that says anything bad about sports bras.” She teased with a light tone. “Though, didn’t Jesus say something about plucking out your eyes if you feel tempted?”

You drew in a shaky breath, desperately trying to compose yourself. “I… I just think it’s better if we keep a little more modesty,” you muttered, still not daring to turn around. You and Alexia often changed in your showers after bathing so this was the first time that you were seeing her so exposed.

Alexia took a step closer, and you could feel her presence behind you, the heat radiating from her still-warm skin. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, all you have to do is say so,” she said, her voice low and playful.

“It’s not that, I just—” you started but trailed off, heart hammering in your chest. Before you could finish, Alexia laughed softly and stepped into her shower stall, leaving you standing there, unsure whether you were relieved or even more nervous.

As the sound of water began to fill the room, she called out casually, “So… how’d I do out there? Be honest.”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on her words rather than the strange, jittery feeling in your chest. “You did great,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat to sound less meek.  “You had such great control of the ball. I haven’t seen anyone play that good since Ingrid and Maria.”

She hummed, pleased with your response. “Gracias, monjita. That means a lot coming from you.” She said, her voice echoing.

Your light conversation soon fell silent as Alexia cleaned herself. You awkwardly lingered by the sinks, unable to get over the overwhelming awareness of her just a few feet away. Even if you two had showered at the same time, there were usually a bunch of other girls too. Now, it was silent – just you, Alexia, the sound of rippling water and the loudness of your thoughts. No chitter-chatter to distract you from the thought of Alexia…

You jumped as Alexia’s voice cut through the sound of water. “Uh..I forgot my towel outside,” she called out. “Mind handing it to me?”

You hesitated for a moment, silently willing your pulse to slow down. “Uh, sure,” you finally replied, moving to grab the towel.

When you turned to hand it to her, you kept your gaze averted. Her fingers brushed yours as she took the towel, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you,” Alexia said softly, her voice carrying an almost imperceptible edge of playfulness.

You nodded stiffly, retreating to your side of the room. Your mind was a blur of confusion, and for a brief moment, you thought about praying. But the truth was, you weren’t even sure what you were praying for anymore — clarity, calmness, or for these strange feelings to go away. One thing was certain, though: Alexia quickly became the center of your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried to focus elsewhere.

Even if Alexia loved your presence and loved your companionship, the experience at the boarding school was sometimes too much for her to handle. 

When she first moved in with her grandparents, she never anticipated that her stay would eventually lead to being sent to a boarding school after an unpleasant experience. The thought of living away from her friends, her home, and access to decent football training had been unbearable at first. But then, she met you—a sweet, devout girl whose head seemed so deeply buried in the Bible that you didn’t even realize you were still in the closet.

Despite loving your presence, Alexia still felt like the school could be too much at times – the lackluster football program, the seemingly endless Bible lessons, the preachy talks, the relentless schedule, and the constant pressure to be a proper Catholic girl all the time. It was a big shift from being in a more liberal school. 

In addition to all that, she just couldn’t reconcile the growing feelings she had for you with the way the nuns always seemed to lecture against those very feelings. It got too much.

So, when the weight of it all bore down on her, Alexia would sneak out in the dead of night while you were fast asleep. Wandering aimlessly around the campus grounds, she often ended up at the prayer garden nestled in the small forest near the school.

The quiet solace of the garden, with its canopy of stars and the hum of nature, offered her a much-needed escape from the pious expectations of her daily life. It was the one place where she could breathe without feeling judged, without having to be so guarded.

After a few successful midnight escapes, Alexia had grown more confident in her routine. Perhaps a little too confident. As she carefully climbed out of the window one night, the sound of her movements stirred you from your sleep.

“Alexia?” you murmured groggily, blinking at the shadowy figure moving by the window. You rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes as you saw your roommate with a cardigan thrown over her pajamas, practically half out of the window. “W-what are you doing?”

Alexia froze for a moment before turning to face you. “Monjita… hey,” she said softly, using the nickname that had inexplicably grown on you. “I was just going to the prayer garden…to destress.”

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, still half-asleep. “The nuns will catch you,” you muttered, voice laced with drowsy concern. A yawn escaped her mouth. “They might punish you if they catch you.”

Alexia hesitated for a moment before offering you a small smile. “Maybe,” she admitted, “but I’m going anyway. And… if you’re worried, you could come with me.”

You blinked at her in confusion. “What?”

“Come with me,” she said, her hazel eyes sparkling “You’re in better standing with the nuns. If we get caught, they’ll go easier on us if you’re there. Besides, I could use the company.”

You bit your lip, torn between your better judgment and the strange pull of Alexia’s request. Alexia hummed before proceeding to step both feet out of the window, baiting you. After a moment of internal debate, you sighed and climbed out of bed. “Fine. But we need to be back before anyone notices, okay?”

Alexia’s grin was radiant as she reached for your hand. “Of course, monjita.” she whispered. “Now, come on.”

Your heart was beating so fast as you slipped out the window and into the dark of the night. If anyone heard your heart now, they would have thought you were robbing a bank by the way it thumped and thrashed in your chest. On the other hand, Alexia moved with confidence and no worries.

“Alexia, aren’t you afraid of night creatures… owls… foxes?” You asked as you and the other girl weaved your way through trees to make it to the prayer garden.

Alexia, who was leading the way, turned her head and flashed you a smile. “All God’s creations, right?” She teased. “Don’t worry, we’re not too far away, angel.”

That was another nickname Alexia liked to call you, which always got you flustered as well. Even now that you were fearing for your safety, you still felt your cheeks warm.

It wasn’t long before you both found yourself in the prayer garden, seated on makeshift benches crafted from large slabs of rocks. You always loved the prayer garden but at night, it transformed into something almost magical. The stars scattered across the sky like shimmering jewels, and the moon bathed everything below in its soft, silver glow.

As you gazed at Alexia, you couldn’t help but feel a little breathless. Under the moonlight, she looked ethereal—her skin glowing like porcelain, her dark eyes shadowed yet undeniably captivating. You quickly turned your gaze upward, trying to ground yourself.

“I come here at night when I feel overwhelmed,” Alexia said, her voice breaking the stillness. Her tone was unusually soft, vulnerable. Despite knowing Alexia for a while, she rarely talked too much about her emotions. She was rarely so open like this, which just made this experience more special. 

“I just need to sit in silence,” she continued, her eyes fixed on the stars. “To look at the sky, the moon, hear the trees rustling. It’s… healing.”

You nodded silently, sensing there was more she wanted to say.

She sighed deeply, her words weighed down by emotion. “When I feel like the guilt is too much... like it’s drowning me, I come here. And for a moment, I can breathe again.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. You looked up at the sky, your shoulder brushing lightly against hers. Normally, being so close to Alexia made you nervous, but tonight, in this shared stillness, you felt oddly at peace. The heart that was previously violently thrashing in your chest was now a consistent, steady beat.

After a moment of silence – just gazing at the stars and listening to the rustle of the trees, you broke the silence. “Can you believe our Creator? He made all of this — so vast, so beautiful. The stars, the trees, the world… it’s like proof of His greatness.” You gushed, feeling yourself grow appreciative of the world around you. You figured sneaking out was just a way for you to appreciate God’s creation in a different light.

Unbeknownst to you, Alexia wasn’t sharing the same train of thought. She sat quietly beside you, her gaze distant as she absorbed your words. After a moment, she spoke, her voice soft yet tinged with sadness. “Yes… but who created all the pain?”

Her question caught you off guard, and you turned to look at her, unsure how to respond. “What do you mean?”

Alexia met your gaze, her eyes glimmering with an unspoken ache. “If there’s a creator who made all this beauty, then who made all the suffering?”

The weight of her words settled heavily between you. You hesitated, your mind racing for an answer. “Maybe… maybe it’s not Him,” you said cautiously. “Maybe it’s humans, not him."

Alexia’s eyes didn’t leave yours, her expression unreadable. “Then why doesn’t he stop it?”

You faltered, unsure how to respond. You looked down, feeling the gravity of her question but unable to offer a clear answer. “Maybe… maybe it’s because we have free will. We have to face the consequences of what we do."

Her voice dropped to almost a whisper, the next words barely audible. “But… what if the way I was born is a sin? Does that mean I’m damned from the start?” she whispered. "What can I do then?"

Your heart stuttered, her words hitting you like a sudden blow. You didn’t fully understand what she meant, but you could feel the weight of her confession. It meant something to her — something big, something raw.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. What did she mean? You searched her expression for clarity, for reassurance, but found only a vulnerability that left you speechless.

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. It wasn’t the first time that someone came to you with religious doubts and apprehensions. Typically, you handled it well but now, all you could do was keep your eyes glued on to Alexia’s hazel eyes. 

She smiled weakly, her eyes glazed a bit, before looking up again at the stars. You paused, taking her presence in before mimicking her and looking up at the stars again. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ACT II. First All at Once, Then All Together.

After that night with Alexia at the prayer garden, you’ve grown more and more comfortable with her, spending practically every single waking moment with the girl. You became even more inseparable.

Sneaking out at night became a ritual, talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes, you’d open up about your religious upbringing. Sometimes, Alexia would share about her life outside the boarding school – telling you about all the shenanigans she got into. Other times, Alexia would be telling you about football rules and gameplay. (She practically spent an entire night explaining to you what offside was and you still were confused, unable to visualize it even after she explained using rocks and twigs.) 

These days, you laughed a lot, more than you ever had in all your years combined inside the institute. It felt so freeing being with Alexia, opening up and just getting to laugh boisterously without being scolded. 

Alexia loved seeing this side of you, growing more and more comfortable with her. She loved making you laugh, loved the way you made her laugh. But it wasn’t just the lighthearted moments she treasured—it was the quiet, vulnerable ones, too. Sometimes, she wanted to tell you everything about how she ended up at the school, but she always hesitated. A part of her wasn’t ready, unsure of how you’d react.

The downside of spending so much time with Alexia was that you were starting to fall behind on your dorm head duties. You managed the basics—leading morning prayers, fairly assigning chores, and organizing Bible study sessions every couple of weeks—but some responsibilities slipped through the cracks.

It wasn’t a big deal until you forgot to monitor the weather, failing to inform the nuns of an incoming storm. So, when a storm hit and the dorm lost power, all the batteries in the lamps and the flashlights had corroded and you were all forced to use candles. 

Alexia, as always, was quick to help. She volunteered to search the storage closets for any working battery-powered lamps. While you rummaged under your bed for spare supplies, Alexia explored the rest of the room.

“Hmm…” Alexia hummed, cutting through the silence as you searched for the lights in your room which you were sure you stored under the bed. You turned around and could barely make out her figure in the dark. 

“What is it?” You asked, still rummaging through the box under your bed. 

“Jewelry and birds?” she said, her tone curious.

Confused, you turned to find Alexia sitting on the floor, flipping through your old sketchbook. Your eyes widened in horror. “Wait – Alexia!” You yelped.

Back when you were a freshman, an alumni visited the school to share her life as a jewelry designer. After which, for a year, you were convinced that jewelry designing was your passion, making several sketches of rings, necklaces, and other pieces. After filling an entire sketchbook of drawings, you figured that it was a ridiculous dream to have and quit your jewelry-making aspirations

The obsession with drawing birds… well, there wasn’t an explanation for that. You just liked birds somehow.

You tried to snatch the sketchbook from Alexia who held it away from you, a teasing grin on her face. “Relax, angel,” she said, thumbing through the pages. “You’re really talented. Did you design all these?”

You bit your lip, cheeks warming. “Well… yeah. But it’s not that creative. It’s just… birds and jewelry.”

Alexia frowned, shaking her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is amazing.” She stopped on a page depicting a necklace of a bird inside a cage. “This one especially. It’s beautiful.”

You tried to snatch the book again, but she pulled it away, her expression softening as she flipped through more pages. Her gaze lingered on darker drawings that littered the last few pages — birds with arrows through their hearts, birds lying lifeless, and cages that seemed impossibly small. 

She finally closed the sketchbook, her expression unreadable. Without a word, she reached out and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her lap. You froze for a moment but eventually relaxed, adjusting yourself to sit more comfortably. Alexia held you like that, her warmth radiating through you. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as she spoke into your ear. “You don’t have to stay in the birdcage.”

You didn’t reply, but your arms tightened around her. Somehow, in that quiet moment, the message was clear. Yet, you said nothing.

After that night, Alexia had grown fond of hugging you. 

Well, not just hugging, but holding your hand and brushing your hair with her fingertips. You never talked about what she said even if you felt like you wanted to, but you just knew you had some sort of silent and deeper understanding of each other since then.

The lingering fluttered feeling remained with Alexia but it soon dissipated into comfort. You’d let her hold your hand under the table during lunch. You’d let her hug you from behind and rest her head on your shoulder when you washed the dishes. On your end, you just loved being close to her, often offering to brush her hair and sort it into braids or other silly hairstyles. 

The weather got colder and colder, making your nightly sneaking-out sessions impossible. Unfortunately, this meant that you were suddenly having a hard time sleeping. The walks and nights out talking provided you with a peace of mind that allowed you to sleep soundly after. Now, you felt like life was incomplete without it.

It was past midnight and you still couldn’t sleep, feeling anxious considering that you had to wake up earlier to prepare for First Friday mass. You already tried praying, counting sheep, and reciting Bible verses in your head but to no avail.

You sighed and turned again in your bed. The Catalan took notice of your restlessness and sat up slightly to glance over to your bed. The nightlight barely illuminated the room but it was obvious to her that you were still up.

“Angel,” she whispered, her voice soft but distinct in the quiet dormitory room. You turned around to see Alexia propping herself up in her bed. She smiled warmly at you. “Can’t sleep?”

You shook your head. “I’m having trouble,” you whispered back. “But, I’m sure I’ll drift off sooner or later.”

Alexia hummed and tilted her head thoughtfully, then lifted the edge of her blanket in a silent invitation. “You know,” she said lightly. “Sleeping next to someone is supposed to help. Something about oxytocin or whatever. It’s supposed to calm you down.”

You chuckled. “Suddenly, you’re a biologist?”

“Nah, just a cuddle scientist.” Alexia teased, her grin widening. “Come here. If it doesn’t work out, you can always just go back to your bed.”

You hesitated, your heart skipping for reasons you couldn’t quite place. The idea was harmless — just two friends sharing a bed — but something about the offer felt different, like stepping over an invisible line. Still, the way Alexia looked at you, patient and almost knowing, made it hard to say no.

Biting your lip, you slid out from under your covers. The cold floor sent a shiver up your feet as you tiptoed toward Alexia’s bed. She scooted back slightly to make room, her blanket still held open. You slid in carefully, the scent of her shampoo immediately enveloping you. The bed was as tiny as yours, forcing your bodies closer than you’d planned.

You laid stiffly, your back almost to the edge of the bed, careful not to be too close to her. You were too afraid that moving closer to her might just… be too intimate.  

Just as you started to relax, Alexia’s hand slid over — tentative but deliberate — resting lightly on your waist, before settling flatly on the small of your back.

You jumped slightly at the sensation, but she didn’t let go. Instead, her fingers curled gently, tugging you closer until your body was flush against hers. 

“You were about to fall off,” she murmured, her voice low but teasing. “Relax, Monjita. I won’t bite.”

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t find the words to protest. Alexia adjusted, slipping an arm under your neck and pulling you into her chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her steady heartbeat thrummed against your ear, and though it should’ve calmed you, it only made your own race faster.

Even if you and Alexia had become close, there was a newness, a different feeling to this interaction. It felt intimate and almost like crossing friendship boundaries. 

“You’re so stiff,” she said after a moment, her tone light but edged with amusement. “What’s the big deal? Haven’t you ever hugged a friend before?”

You swallowed. “Not like this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia hummed softly in response, her breath warm against your hair. “Well,” she said, her voice dropping just slightly, “there’s a first time for everything.”

You paused, contemplating, before softly whispering again. “Alexia,” You started cautiously. “I never really had a best friend.”

She hummed, her free hand gently brushing through your hair in slow, comforting strokes. “Yeah?” she prompted, her tone curious but tender. “What about Ingrid?”

You shook your head. “I like Ingrid, but she’s not my best friend and I can’t completely open up to her,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever opened up to anyone. I’m always so scared… scared that they’ll hate me or judge me once they really know me. You're the only one I feel like I can open up to.”

Alexia scoffed softly, almost incredulously. “I don’t see how anyone could hate you, monjita,” she said, her voice laced with quiet affection.

You swallowed, your chest tightening. “I think some of them already do,” you murmured, the words tasting bitter as you let them out. 

“I’ve always been so devoted to the Church, and sometimes… I think they see me as too pious, too preachy. I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” you added quickly, almost defensively. “But it’s made me someone they can’t trust. Like I’m just an extension of the nuns — someone they’ll never see as a real friend.”

Alexia chuckled warmly. “An extension of the nuns?”

You nodded. “Even you call me monjita.”

Alexia shook her head. “Well, yes,” she explained. “But not because I see you as an extension of the nuns. I just think you’d look so cute and adorable in those gigantic nun costumes they wear, and well, you’re as nice as a nun.”

You chuckled a bit but shook your head. “Still, people don’t see me beyond being the good girl, the praepostor… the person the nuns send them to whenever they have doubts about their faith.” You whispered. “Sometimes, I even forget who I am beyond that. Sometimes, I just let myself be who they think I am.”

Alexia’s hand didn’t falter as she hummed thoughtfully, her touch steady and grounding. “You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” she said simply, but there was something fierce in her voice, a quiet insistence that you weren’t sure how to process. “They can perceive you and they can judge you from just that but you shouldn’t let their perception define you.”

You hummed in thought, as you rested your hand on her chest, feeling her steady heartbeat. “It’s not just that,” you continued, the words spilling out now as though Alexia’s warmth had unlocked something deep inside you. “Even if they could see past that, I don’t think they’d like me once they really knew me, once they knew who I am beyond being the praepostor or the nun’s favorite.”

Her hand paused briefly, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer, more cautious. “What do you mean?”

You stared blankly at the wall, the weight of her question pressing on you. “I mean that I have my own doubts,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “That I give advice, telling people to trust God and follow His word, that all your problems will wash away when you believe and pray but deep down, I… I’m not sure I believe it myself. Sometimes, I feel so trapped… like I’m living this life for everyone else, not for me.”

“Hmm?” Alexia said as if to signal for you to continue.

You bit your lip, hesitant to share your own feelings with Alexia. “I’ve lived my whole life here in the Institute. This is all I’ve known and I know a lot of the sisters went through the same thing and learned to love it…” You trailed off.

Alexia prodded. “But?”

You felt tears form in your eyes but you tried to stop yourself from letting yourself get even more emotional. “I want to see what life is like… beyond this.” You shared softly, almost too soft for anyone to hear. “Just see what I’m missing out on.”

You continued, “I want to laugh freely. I want to watch movies that just make me laugh or make me cry — movies not necessarily made to have a moral or a lesson or be about a biblical character. I want to eat junk food and indulge in sweets without feeling like I’ve turned into a massive glutton. I don’t want to feel guilty for wanting a third pancake.”

Alexia chuckled softly at that, her mind flashing back to mornings in the dining hall when she’d see you dutifully pick at bland green beans, leaving the pancakes untouched for the younger girls.

“I want to do things other normal people our age do,” You continued. “I want to go drink recreationally and dance with people I don’t know. I wanna know what I’d look like with lots of makeup and those big lashes. I want to swim in a tiny swimsuit, even if it feels weird riding up your—”

Alexia laughed out loud at that, the sound warm and unguarded, and you couldn’t help but smile. Her amusement encouraged you, made you feel safe enough to keep going.

Taking a deep breath, you continued, “I want to fall in love,” you said, the words trembling on your lips. “Really fall in love. I want to go on a date, get flowers, share drinks. I want to kiss someone… not a polite little peck on the cheek. I mean really kiss, feel something. I want to know what it’s like to be loved and love beyond… beyond religious devotion.”

Suddenly, you fell silent, gulping as you allowed yourself to calm down again. Alexia hummed lowly as she continued to brush your hair. You stayed silent, waiting for Alexia to speak but she didn't, simply continuing to brush the pads of her fingers against you.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but steady. “You must think I’m a hypocrite,” you said, preempting her, your voice brittle with doubt.

“No, no, of course not, cariño.” She said immediately with a tender but firm voice. “I think what you’re feeling is natural.”

Another pause. You nuzzled closer to her instinctively, seeking comfort in the steady warmth of her touch. Alexia sighed softly, her breath ruffling your hair. “Having doubts, wanting these things… it doesn’t make you bad,” she murmured. “It makes you human. We all want love. And that’s okay, monjita.”

Her words settled over you, comforting but unfamiliar, as though you weren’t sure you deserved to hear them. You turned your head slightly, meeting her gaze. There was no judgment in her beautiful, hazel eyes — just patience, warmth, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“But what if it’s more than just doubts?” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your fear. “What if… what if I can’t actually be what they expect me to be? What if I just break?”

Alexia’s free hand moved to your cheek, her thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Then maybe it’s time to stop living for their expectations,” she said, her voice firm yet impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be what they want. You only have one life and you deserve to live for yourself, angel.”

Your eyes locked together and you started feeling the weight in your heart be replaced by something new. You felt the energy between you two shift into an unfamiliar feeling you couldn’t put a finger on. There was a warmth between you two — a growing comfort and familiarity — but there was also the feeling of something ominous unraveling. You couldn’t tell what it was; it was something you’ve never known before.

And as soon as you felt your eyes flicker to Alexia’s lips — pink and lush, parted slightly as she stuck her tongue out to wet them, how they were impossibly close — you knew.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ACT III. We Can’t Really Help Who We Are

After that night cuddling with Alexia, you lied and said you preferred sleeping in your own bed, even if truthfully you’ve never slept better than you had wrapped around in her arms.

You’ve also let her hands awkwardly hang between you, brushing against yours to signal for you to take them. Instead of locking hands like you usually did, you’d cross them across your chest and avert your gaze.

When she’d try to wrap you in a back hug from behind, you’d find some excuse to slip away. “I need to re-fold my clothes,” you’d mumble, or, “I should check with Sister Catherine about something in the dormitory,” leaving her standing there, arms left empty.

More recently, you’d taken to pretending to be asleep, tucked into bed as early as nine in the evening, just to avoid those late-night conversations with her — the ones where it felt like the world disappeared and it was just the two of you.

Ever since you realized that you might have a crush on Alexia, you have avoided spending alone time with her. You dodged all her physical affection and even moved seats in class, making an excuse that your eyesight has been faulty lately which made no sense because you simply moved horizontally as you two had already been sitting up front.

To anyone else, your sudden change in behavior would have been confusing, even hurtful. But Alexia wasn’t just anyone. She understood what you were going through, even if you hadn’t said a word. She saw through your avoidance, knew why you flinched away from her touch or made excuses to leave.

So she decided to give you space. She’d let you sort through your feelings, trusting that you’d come to terms with them when you were ready. There was no rush, no pressure — not from her. The least she could do was add to the pressure you were already feeling from everyone and yourself.

But to you, Alexia’s calm and unbothered demeanor meant something entirely different.

You convinced yourself that her behavior wasn’t born from understanding but indifference. You figured she hadn’t noticed your growing feelings at all, or worse, that she had — and didn’t feel the same.

Her casual way of brushing off your sudden distance only solidified the idea in your mind: Alexia only saw you as a friend.

Every hug, every handhold, every quiet moment together — it was nothing more than friendship to her. That realization made everything harder. It made every excuse you gave, every inch of space you put between you, feel more necessary.

Certainly, it wasn’t the truth but to you, it felt like it was and that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Every so often, some of the sisters that oversee dorm functions would gather everyone for some prayer activity, to exercise different manners of prayer. With the older sisters, they usually preferred teaching worship songs or learning prayers in different languages. The younger sisters were often more imaginative and fun. Sometimes, they’d make board games based on Biblical lessons or it would be a rosary-making session.

Today, Sister Catherine decided that a “Stretching with God” exercise would be fun. So, all the girls from your dorm building were gathered in your modest sweatpants and shirts as you attempted to follow Sister Catherine’s instructions. Some of the moves made sense like raising arms to reach towards the heavens or doing child’s pose to symbolize humility. But some of it… were questionable. 

She had everyone rolling their arms back to “emulate angel’s wings.” She had you lifting your legs back and forth in a swinging motion “to kick away all the evil that surrounds you.” After the “punching away demons” move, you looked around and noticed that everyone seemed to be enjoying it — some genuinely enjoying it and others just finding the silliness of it all amusing.

Though, you didn’t bother looking over to Alexia, who was standing beside you. You’ve been avoiding her gaze ever since she found it was so funny for her to lift her shirt up so slightly to wipe the imaginary beads of sweat from her forehead after every stretch.

To you, it seemed like an innocent gesture that your twisted brain was just corrupting but Alexia actually intended to do it ever since she’s caught you frequently glancing at her abdomen, especially after her football training.

“Okay, girls, to close off our Stretching With God session,” Sister Catherine instructed, a little bit winded from leading the session. “We’ll form a circle to have a small prayer.”

Sister Cathy turned off the radio that was playing instrumentals and soon, the dorm fell quiet except for the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional shuffle of feet as everyone gathered into a circle. 

You had carefully chosen your spot, slipping beside Ingrid and moving away from Alexia. It seemed like the safest option at the time — distant enough from Alexia to make avoiding her easier. But now, as you settled in, you realized the mistake.  

From where you stood, you had a clear line of sight to Alexia. You did move far away from her side but that landed you almost directly in front of her in the circle. You clenched your hands, trying to focus on the prayer circle instead of the way her hazel eyes lingered, even when they weren’t looking at you directly.  

The prayer exercise began. “Okay, girls, we’ll be doing the typical ACTS prayer structure.” Sister Catherine started. “Can anyone remind us of what the ACTS prayer is like?”

Instinctively, all eyes darted to you. You nodded and spoke up loud enough for everyone to hear. “A for Adoration — you give worship to God and adore him for who he is. Typically, you can say ‘Almighty God’ or just ‘God the Father’... or whatever you feel is fitting.”

“Next, C stands for asking for confession when you let God know of and apologize for all your sins and misgivings.” Suddenly, your eyes drifted to Alexia who had a small smile on her face. You stumbled with your words. “Uh, uhm…”

“Thanks,” Ingrid whispered surreptitiously to you, thinking you'd forgotten it. 

You nodded. “T for Thanksgiving wherein we thank Him for all He has done. Lastly, S for supplication.”

Sister Catherine nodded at you thankfully. “And supplication is just asking humbly for what you want,” She looked over to you again. “For what you desire in your heart.”

You nodded, trying to keep your eyes on the nun instead of letting it drift towards Alexia. Soon, the nun started instructing the group on the movements that accompanied each part of the prayer.

For the adoration part, you all raised your hands high, the weight of silence heavy as you thought of words to praise Him. "All-knowing and all-seeing God," you whispered suddenly. The phrase came unbidden. You bit your lip, feeling guilt rush over you suddenly as you reached your fingertips to the sky. 

When it was time to give thanks, everyone was instructed to place their right hand over their heart. You murmured a quiet prayer of gratitude, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. "Thank you for self-control," you said softly, though it felt like a lie. Every day you spent avoiding Alexia made you feel like a thread pulled too tight, ready to snap. 

Then came the moment for forgiveness. You were to put both hands over your heart now, one over the other as you closed your eyes and bowed your head to symbolize humility and regret for your actions. You could practically feel your heartbeat inside your hands as you struggled to even formulate a coherent thought.

You knew somehow that your feelings for Alexia were wrong but you couldn’t piece together a statement asking for forgiveness because you couldn’t reconcile with yourself what sin you committed exactly. You clutched your chest as you breathed heavily, settling with a different apology. “I’m sorry I cannot recognize my own sins.” You thought silently.

Finally, it was time to ask for your desires. 

“Everyone, keep your heads low. This is to show humility, that you are a mere human asking God for something. Not demanding or expecting already, but just asking kindly with all the humility in our heart.” The nun instructed as she lowered her own head. You followed suit.

“Next, hold your hands, let it serve as a reminder that you are not alone and that your peers have their own desires and aspirations. As we hold hands, this is our way of praying that they also attain all their aspirations.” You locked hands with Ingrid and Maria who were both beside you.

“Finally, tell God your desire.” Sister Catherine said. “You can whisper it, say it out, or keep it in your heart and heed for Him to hear.”

Heads bowed low, hands clasped tightly, the circle seemed to shrink in on itself as whispers of prayers filled the room. Girls murmured quietly, voices blending into a soft hum of hope and longing. You lowered your head like the rest, but your mind was blank.  

What did you desire most?  

Nothing came to mind at first, only the familiar wave of guilt and confusion. But then, as if pulled by a force you couldn’t resist, you lifted your head. And that’s when you saw her.  

Alexia was already staring at you. Her head was not lowered like everyone else, her hazel eyes locked on yours with an intensity that stole your breath. In the middle of all the whispered prayers, the bowed heads, and the holy reverence, it was just the two of you, caught in a moment that felt impossibly loud in its silence.  

You didn’t look away.  

And in her gaze, you saw it. 

The same thing that burned in your chest — the unspoken desire, the longing you’d tried to bury — reflected back at you. It was an understanding, a silent confession shared without words.  

Your breath hitched, and your hands trembled as you tried to remain composed. Around you, the prayer continued, a soft chorus of whispered hopes filling the air. But at that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the guilt, not the fear — just her.  

Alexia’s lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, her eyes softened, her expression shifting into something both tender and devastating.  

The prayer ended, the murmurs quieting as hands released and the circle broke apart. But you remained frozen, still locked in the echo of what had just passed between you.  

You hadn’t spoken a word, but somehow, you knew. You both desired the same thing.

You were violently shaken awake. You blinked your eyes open to see the familiar dark-haired Norwegian sitting on your bed, trying to get you to wake up. 

You blinked your eyes, drowsy and disoriented. Ingrid looked relieved to see you awake. She sighed. “Sister Superior is summoning you to her office. She says there’s a matter of your concern.” She said with a frantic but firm voice.

You sat up and instinctively looked over to Alexia’s bed which was empty. However, this time, it was undone and not fixed which was uncharacteristic of the Catalan who often did her bed as soon as she woke up.

Ingrid noticed. “Alexia’s there too.” She clarified. “You need to get dressed immediately. Sister superior does not seem happy.”

Suddenly, your heart pounded against your chest. No one in the school knows what you were feeling for Alexia and yet, that was the first thing that came into your mind. Could you have been figured out?

No, it couldn’t be. You thought. But… we have been affectionate a lot and have been holding hands prior. Could that be the reason? But girls here often hold hands.

Or… maybe it’s all those nights sneaking out? Were you caught? Did they hear you say all those things about your apprehensions and your conflicted feelings.

You gulped as your hands grew clammy. Ingrid sat back on the bed with you and clasped your hand in hers. “Hey, hey,” Her voice said in a comforting manner but there was a tone of doubt. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It might just be a dormitory concern.”

You nodded, doubting her words. “Yeah… maybe.” You whispered. “Do you know what it’s about?”

Ingrid shook her head. “No, but it seems… urgent.” She answered. “Just get dressed and I’ll take you there immediately to not anger the sister.”

You immediately threw on your clothes and joined Ingrid as you briskly walked to the office at the opposite building. You were both quiet at first, the tension heavy between the two of you until Ingrid spoke up.

“Do you have a clue what this meeting could be about?” She asked cautiously. “Did Alexia do something?”

You bit your lip and looked at your friend’s icy blue eyes, contemplating whether or not you wanted to even answer.  Ingrid lowered her voice to a whisper. “I promise to God I won’t tell if you know anything.”

You looked away briefly, assessing if anyone was within earshot. You linked arms with Ingrid to move closer to her as you walked. “I think… it might be because Alexia and I snuck out once or twice before.”

Ingrid’s eyes widened, shocked not by the act of sneaking out but that it was you who did it. She knew several girls who snuck out before but you were the last person she expected to do so. “W-what? To where? Were you the ones who took the bus?”

You blinked cluelessly. “Bus? No, no, we often went to the prayer garden at night.”

Ingrid let out a sigh of relief, realizing that you two had very different concepts of sneaking out. 

“I… I don’t think that’s a big deal honestly.” She cautiously said, not wanting you to find out some people were actually sneaking out. “I doubt the sisters would be that mad about that. Just say you two wanted to pray. They can’t get mad at that.”

You hesitated. You looked over to your friend who you’ve known all these years. There were times you’d chat about personal things, sad moments, and doubts but you never really discussed anything too personal. But Ingrid… she was the only other person here you could fully trust to open up to — well, aside from Alexia. 

“There’s something else.” You started.

“What is it?” Ingrid looked at you quizzically.

You hesitated. “I… I’m starting to get…” Your voice trailed off.

Ingrid squeezed your hand. “I won’t judge. I promise and I swear to God.”

You sighed deeply before whispering. “I think I have feeli—” 

“Ingrid! There you two are!” You both jumped at the sound of Sister Jude suddenly appearing from the end of the hallway. The plump sister waved her hands to summon you two. “Please make haste, we don’t have all day.” 

You looked at Ingrid who had a curious, wide-eye look on her face but you decided against continuing your statement. Instead, you just gently tugged at her to gesture for her to jog to the sister’s office.

Having not had enough exercise, you were a bit winded by the time you got to the office while Ingrid was breathing normally, the athlete that she was.

As soon as you opened the door, you were met by the sight of Alexia’s familiar back, turned and standing with her hands clasped behind her back to face the Sister Superior who was sitting behind her desk with a sour expression. 

When the heavy wooden door opened further, you saw an unfamiliar person.

A tall, dark-haired girl wearing a black shirt and pants was sitting on the side opposite Alexia. She turned around to look at you as you entered. She had a strained and frustrated expression but it was undeniable that she was pretty.

You looked behind to Ingrid who comfortably nodded at you, gesturing for you to go on as she waited outside the office.

As soon as the door shut behind you, the sister superior began talking again. You moved closer to stand by Alexia, who glanced up at you briefly before looking back down. You stood quietly, trying to figure out what was happening.

Alexia’s demeanor was noticeably different. The confidence and the aura that she typically exuded suddenly gone, replaced by a heavy energy. You turned your attention to the sister who seemed frustrated.

Sister Philomena’s voice broke the silence, her tone sharp. “Alexia was sent here to heal from her past and seek redemption,” she said, pointing a finger at the dark-haired girl. “You cannot just walk into our sacred institution and tempt her back into your sinful lifestyle.”

The unfamiliar girl rolled her eyes. “I don’t see the problem, sister.” She responded, voice dripping with animosity. “Is Alexia a prisoner? Hell, even prisoners have more rights. Why can’t her friends visit her?”

The nun slammed her hand flat on the table. “This is precisely the problem. You think Alexia is a prisoner when she is here to grow and learn.” Her voice rang through the office. “And you did not come here to visit her. You trespass into our premises, asking her to run away and leave. This is not a visitation.”

You flinched at the harshness of the nun’s words. Sister Philomena turned toward you. “Tell this girl how visitation works here, so she understands.”

You blinked, caught off guard, and repeated the rules as best as you could. “When friends or family want to visit, they fill out a visitation form—”

“Precisely,” Sister Philomena interrupted. “But you didn’t come here to visit. You came to seduce Alexia and drag her away from God.”

“Seduced?” you whispered, your mind reeling at the accusation. Alexia must have taken notice because she quickly shook her head. 

“I’m not some demonic temptress like you’re making me out to be,” The girl chided with a mocking laugh. “You are all acting like I’m some evil person for wanting to see Alexia after everyone took her away from me! God forbid I want to see my girlfriend after she’s disappeared for months.”

Your heart stopped beating. Girlfriend?

You glanced over at Alexia then to the girl. Even with the girl being sat down on the chair, you could tell she was perhaps as tall as Alexia. She exuded the same confident aura. Even if Alexia never opened up about crushes, you never would have thought she’d actually be in a relationship, which felt like betrayal. Why wouldn’t she tell me she had a girlfriend? And… why would she act like that with me if she had one?

Your train of thought was suddenly broken when the nun’s voice loudly echoed through the room. Sister Philomena’s voice grew louder, more forceful with every word. “Homosexuality is a sin, plain and simple,” she said, her eyes blazing with what she surely believed was righteous indignation. “It is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord, a corruption of His holy design. And you, girl, are no better than the serpent in the garden, seeking to lead Alexia down a path of damnation.”

You clutched your heart subconsciously, feeling affected and shaken by her words. You could feel your hands quiver as the scene unfolded. Sister Philomena had always been intimidating but you’ve never seen her this frustrated and intense. It was frightening. Not to mention what she was saying was starting to get to you, digging into your own guilt.

The sister stood up from her chair, still standing quite tall despite her seniority. “Her grandparents sent her here, to this sacred institution, to be healed, to be purified. They entrusted us with their beloved granddaughter, hoping that we could erase the darkness that had consumed her heart. This place is meant to protect her from the evil influences of the world, to bring her back to the fold, back to the love and grace of the Lord.”

Suddenly, Sister Philomen’s eyes darted to you. “We surround her with kind people, righteous people like her.” She pointed at you. The dark-haired girl’s glare shifted to you, making you feel even more nervous. “She is the type of company Alexia needs to heal and to repent. Her friends and peers in this institute have been working tirelessly to guide Alexia to the righteous path.”

You looked down on your shoes, unsure of what to feel with the Sister’s words. This wasn’t the first time that you had to stand in a room with the nun and another student being admonished. You quickly learned your role in all of this — the ideal student to be made an example to the wrongdoer. After this session, you were expected to confide in the students, pray with them, and tell them more gently how they can improve.

It was never easy for you, having to assume that role. But now, it felt less like a challenge and more like a heavy cross to bear on your back.

Turning her attention back to the dark-haired girl, Sister Philomena’s expression hardened, her voice dripping with venom. “Your very presence here, your words, your actions, are a poison to her soul. You are the temptation, the forbidden fruit. You are what lures her into the darkness, and she has no hope of finding salvation with you by her side. What kind of life is it that you offer her? A life of sin, of shame, of eternal separation from God. That is the future you are promising her.”

The nun put a hand on her temples, starting to feel nauseous from the anger. The younger nuns in the room urged her to sit back down, patting her back to calm her down. She took a deep breath, looking at some of the documents scattered on her desk, mindlessly organizing them to calm herself down.

Her voice softened only slightly as she looked up again at the girl. “You are not a savior. You are a predator, preying on a fragile soul, and you will not be allowed to continue poisoning Alexia’s spirit. We will not allow it. She will live a better life without you. We will make sure of it.”

The dark-haired, tattooed girl let out a smug chuckle. “What kind of life is it where you’re called a sinner for being who you are?” she spat, her voice not loud but firm. “She’s not living here. She’s suffering here. Clearly.”

Sister Philomena shook her head. “Enough.” She ordered. “If you don’t want us to call the police for trespassing and damaging personal property, you need to leave. Now.”

The girl clenched her jaw before shaking her head. As a last resort, she turned to Alexia who was still unmoving, head held down. “Alexia, please. You don’t belong here. Come with me. We can leave this place together.” She turned to the sisters. “You’re old enough to just leave this place and live your truth. Come on, you can decide for yourself.” 

Alexia stood still, her gaze fixed on the floor. She didn’t move, didn’t react. You watched in silent disbelief as the younger nuns approached the tall girl, putting hands on her shoulders. “Alexia, please.” She said as she tried to reach for Alexia’s hands. This time, the nuns firmly held her so that she couldn’t move towards Alexia. “Do you really want to stay here?”

Alexia stood, unmoving. The girl scoffed and shrugged the hands on her shoulders away. “I can go on my own.” She barked out. “Fine, if you wanna stay here and get converted into some bible thumper then live your life, Alexia.” 

She looked one last time at Alexia, then at you. “These people don’t actually love you, just remember that.”

It felt targeted somehow — the way she looked at you as she spat those words out. You knew she had no idea of what you meant to Alexia and what you felt for her but you still can’t help but feel it was a personal dig at you.

The door slammed behind the girl as she left, The weight of the revelation hit you like a ton of bricks, and you stood frozen, staring at the empty doorway. The silence hung for a moment before Sister Philomena cleared her throat. “Alexia,” She called out in a firm but not angry voice.

Finally, Alexia raised her head. That’s when you noticed that her face was tear-stained and her eyes bloodshot despite the firm, un-emoting look on her face. “Yes, sister?”

“Did you make any contact with Jennifer Hermoso prior to this?” She asked sternly.

“No, sister.” She responded firmly.

“Do you wish to continue your stay in this institute?” The sister asked quizzically. 

Alexia’s eyes flickered to you for a moment before quickly returning to the senior sister. “Y-yes, sister.”

The nun hummed, rubbing her temples. “And do you understand why you’re here? Why it is in your best interest to be her?” 

No hesitation came from Alexia. “Yes, sister.”

The nun seemed satisfied, nodding her head. “Okay, seeing this incident is not your fault,” She started. “Let it serve as a test of your faith and your strength. I will not admonish you but I will simply remind you to pray over your situation diligently.”

Alexia nodded. 

“I will have the junior sisters talk to you later but for now, you two return to your dorm room.” Sister Philomena ordered. She then pointed her pen at you. “I trust you two will have a fruitful conversation together as well. Hence, I’ll have you both excused for morning classes. Understood?”

You nodded at the nun, confirming with her that you got her silent instruction to do what you always did — force the troublemaker back into the rightful path. 

This time, though, you feel like you’ve also been led astray. Blind leading the blind.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ACT IV. Damned to the End From the Start

You and Alexia were joined by Ingrid as you made your way back to the dorm buildings. Ingrid kept glancing at you, her expression a mix of concern and silent questions, as if willing to speak up and explain what had happened. You raised a hand in a subtle gesture, signaling her to wait. The tension hung heavy between the three of you, amplified by Alexia’s silence. She walked alongside you, her arms folded, her gaze fixed ahead. Not once did she look at you or reach for your hand. The distance, both physical and emotional, was unsettling.

Once you got to your dorm, Alexia slipped inside without a word, leaving you in the hallway with Ingrid. Ingrid turned to you, her wide eyes filled with disbelief. “I can’t believe how harsh she was to Alexia,” she whispered, her voice tinged with anger and sadness.

You bit your lip, partially surprised by Ingrid’s sympathy. You had always assumed people defended the sisters’ stances without question — you certainly had in the past. But this time was different. This time, the weight of their words had hit too close to home, and Ingrid’s reaction was a small but meaningful relief.

Before you could think about your actions, you just pulled Ingrid into a hug, startling the taller girl. “Thank you for being with us, Ingrid.” You murmured, voice soft but sincere. “Really. Thank you.”

Ingrid blinked, clearly surprised by your affection. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, darling,” she said with a gentle laugh, her tone warm despite her confusion. “But I’m glad my presence meant something to you.”

When you pulled back, she rested her hands on your shoulders, her touch steady and reassuring. “If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”

You sighed and nodded, thinking about whether or not you should open up to her at that moment. You still weren’t sure what to feel. For now, you just excused yourself. “Thank you,” you said again, offering her a small smile. “But I need to check on Alexia first. She needs me.”

Ingrid nodded, her expression understanding. “Of course,” she said, stepping back to give you space. “Take care of her. And yourself.”

With a final nod, you turned and entered your dorm room, closing the door softly behind you. You could immediately see Alexia curled up on her bed, facing the wall. The sight of an upset Alexia was something new. In the past months, you’ve seen all versions of Alexia – happy after you say something that made her laugh, sad over a movie, pissed off after a bad football training session, teasing almost all the time. But this devastated, silent Alexia… it was not a thing you’ve ever thought you’d encounter.

You stepped cautiously, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Alexia…” Your voice trailed off. “Look, what Sister said… I’m sure she… Well…” You kept losing confidence in what you were saying. Even you felt lost in the situation, deeply conflicted by the situation.

“Not in the mood for a sermon,” Alexia grunted out, burying her head in her pillow.

You felt a pang in your heart. “Alexia…” You started again cautiously. “I-I’m sorry that that happened. None of it was your fault. Sister Philomena just takes student safety seriously and y’know, a trespasser…”

“You know that’s not what I’m upset about,” Alexia interrupted, her voice sharper now, though it trembled with emotion.

You swallowed hard, nodding even though she couldn’t see you. “I know,” you admitted quietly, sighing as the words you wanted to say slipped further away. After a beat of silence, you asked gently, “Do you want to leave?”

At that, Alexia shifted slightly, her hand brushing against her cheek as she wiped her eyes. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, fragile. “I don’t want to leave, monjita.” The words came out in a croak, and she sniffled as though holding back more tears.

Your hands itched to reach for her, to wipe away her tears and pull her into your arms. But something held you back — maybe fear of overstepping, maybe the invisible walls Alexia seemed to have built around herself at that moment. So you stayed where you were, your voice gentle as you replied, “I’m glad you’re staying. I… I like having you here, Alexia.”

A pause. “Even after you learned why I’m here?” 

“Yes, of course, Alexia.” You comforted her immediately. “Nothing changed for me. Your girlfriend… whatever happened between you two is in the past. It’s none of my business.”

“Ex,” She corrected. “Ex-girlfriend.”

You nodded, weirdly comforted by the way she corrected you. Silence befell the dorm room again, disturbed only by the sound of sniffling. You wanted to say so much but there was not a single coherent thought.

“Monjita,” Alexia whispered, her voice trembling and soft, breaking the heavy silence in the room. Your heart warmed at the use of her endearment with a gentle tone. She glanced at you carefully. “Do you think I’m… wrong for who I am? Do you hate me?”

Her words hit you like a blow to the chest. The mere thought that Alexia, who carried so much strength and warmth, could believe you might judge or reject her for something as intrinsic as her identity made your throat tighten. Your eyes began to sting, tears threatening to spill. Without a second thought, you leaned over to Alexia. You got a closer look of her reddened, tear-stained face. 

You used your hand to wipe her tears and the hair that stuck to her face. “Alexia, you’re not wrong for who you are.” You whispered. “And, I could never hate you.”

Her glassy eyes met yours, uncertainty flickering within them. “Yeah?” she asked hesitantly, as though daring to hope you truly meant it. Her hazel eyes flickered as tears threatened to spill again. “Then why haven’t you been talking to me?”

You gulped, looking away for a moment before looking back at her. “Alexia,” you started. “I promise you it was all on me. I was struggling with being close to someone. You know me… I haven’t had a best friend since I was a kid. It’s been hard for me to adjust… to being close to someone.” You paused, struggling to find the words.

Alexia lifted your head up by placing a hand on your chin. “Does it have to do with me being…” She trailed off.

“No, no,” You shook your head and gave her a small, reassuring smile. You hesitated for just a moment before leaning in, pressing a tender kiss to her moist cheek. “I promise, you haven’t done anything to drive me away.” You whispered, your voice filled with conviction.

Something in her expression softened, and then she shifted, turning fully to face you. Without warning, she sat up and pulled you into her arms, wrapping them tightly around you as though she was trying to hold herself together. You returned the hug, feeling the weight of her emotions as her face pressed into your shoulder. The world outside seemed to fade as the two of you sat there, wrapped in a moment that felt achingly fragile and impossibly intimate

When Alexia pulled back, her hands slid up to cradle your face. Her thumbs lightly brushed your cheeks, and you could feel the warmth of her palms against your skin. The intensity in her eyes made your breath hitch. Her gaze flickered between your own, and then down to your lips. She brushed over your cheek again with her thumb, gentle against your own skin. As Alexia moved closer, you felt your own eyes flutter nervously.

Just as Alexia was about to move closer, the door creaked open, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade. Both of you jumped, your hearts racing as though you’d been caught doing something forbidden. 

Ingrid popped in, standing in the doorway, equally surprised to see you both wide-eyed and surprised. “Oh, sorry, was I…” She trailed off.  “Was I… interrupting something?”

You quickly shook your head, your face burning. “No, it’s fine,” you managed, your voice higher than usual.

Ingrid lingered awkwardly for a moment before clearing her throat. “Sister Catherine sent me to call Alexia over,” she said, her tone careful, as if trying not to pry.

Alexia straightened, wiping her face hurriedly with the sleeve of her sweater. “Oh… uh… of course,” she muttered, her voice still thick with emotion. She glanced back at you as she stepped toward the door, her eyes apologetic and heavy with unspoken words. 

As the door clicked shut, the silence filled the room and the only sound you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. You stared at the space Alexia had just vacated, your thoughts spinning.

Did we almost…

The guilt hit at the thought you were not even able to finish as the horrible feeling drowned you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something wrong. You liked Alexia… you cared for her and not much changed for what you feel for her. But, the guilt you had already took root in your gut. It was something that you’ve lived with all your life. Even if you wanted to shake off the feeling, it felt incredibly difficult.

You laid on Alexia’s bed, staring at the ceiling as all the emotions filled you.

Alexia had to sit through multiple sessions with the sisters, which was tiring, to say the least. She hated being lectured by the older nuns the most; one can only listen to 'being gay is a sin' so many times. The more junior nuns were more tolerable but it still wasn’t any fun. They may not have condemned Alexia for being gay but they did say that she shouldn’t 'act on her homosexuality.'

It was just tiring and by the time they were done with Alexia, it was already dinner time.

She was too nervous to eat around the sisters so she hadn’t eaten all day, leaving her with a rumbling stomach. She trudged along to the cafeteria, heading to her usual table. However, this time, something seemed off.

Alexia set down her plate of potatoes and beef as she looked around. “Where’s monjita?” She asked, using your nickname which she used so often that others have already associated it with you.

“She said she wasn’t hungry,” Ingrid responded as she picked at her potatoes. “She’s skipping dinner.”

Maria chewed on her food, gesturing that she was about to say something. As soon as she swallowed her mouthful of undercooked potatoes, she added, “I think she might be praying though. She said something about it when I saw her in the hallway”

“Oh,” Alexia said before sitting down, wondering why you would skip dinner when you typically were not the type to miss meals. She absentmindedly ate her food, mind still fixated on her.

Ingrid must have noticed the vacant expression in the Catalan’s eyes. “You good?” She asked carefully.

Alexia shook out of her catatonic state. “Yeah, yeah, just tired.” She responded. “Uh… did she explain why she’s missing dinner?”

Ingrid exhaled. “No, but she kinda looked upset when I last saw her.” She said. “She didn’t even want to talk to me.”

Alexia hummed as she nodded in response. After taking a nibble out of her food, she decided that she couldn’t sit there without knowing what was going on with you. She took a big gulp of water before standing up from the table, food barely touched. “Uh, I gotta go.”

“Oh,” Her teammates looked at each other cautiously. Ingrid carefully asked, “Alexia, are you sure you’re okay?”

Alexia gave a tight-lipped smile before nodding. “Yeah, just… not hungry.”

Ingrid, who had heard Alexia’s stomach rumble a while ago, didn’t believe her one bit but figured it would be best for Alexia to go on and find you. “Oh okay,” She said. “If you need anything, you know where to find us.”

Alexia gave a thankful look before leaving the cafeteria. The hallways were quite empty save for a few students returning back to their dorms. Alexia figured the best place to find you was back in your dorm room but as soon as she opened the door to your room, it was dark and empty. 

She sighed, walking aimlessly through the dorm building and the common rooms. She grew even more weary once she got to the library and found no trace of you. 

Fuck, where could she even be?

She paused. Suddenly, a familiar freshman passed by. She knew the girl from all the times she’d knock on your dorm room, asking to talk to you for some spiritual guidance. Alexia briskly walked towards the girl. “Anna.” 

The freshman turned around. She seemed shocked. “Oh, Alexia.” She said. “You scared me.”

Alexia looked at her apologetically. Perhaps, it wasn’t such a good idea to startle the kid in the middle of a dark hallway but she needed to find you as soon as she could. “Uh, have you seen Y/N anywhere? She skipped dinner.”

Anna nodded. “I came over to your room to ask advice about something but she said she had to go pray. Maybe in the chapel?”

Alexia peered out the windows, seeing that it was raining outside. “The chapel? Across the field?” She asked as if there was any other chapel. 

The freshman nodded. “Yeah… or the prayer room?” 

Alexia shook her head. “I was just there and she’s not there.” She bit her lip. “Okay, thank you, Anna.”

Alexia grew increasingly worried as she heard the thunderstorm worsen outside the dorm windows. Her heart started beating harder against her chest when she reached your shared room to find you’ve left behind your umbrella. Oh no, she must be stranded there.

Alexia didn’t hesitate to rush to you, growing increasingly worried about your wellbeing.

Little did she know, Anna’s hunch was right and you were praying at the chapel. However, you weren’t there because you were stranded. You’ve been staying there for hours, trying to avoid everyone and trying to seek for answers.

Answers for what? You didn’t even know. You just knew you were lost and that you needed guidance.

The dim flicker of candles cast long shadows across the chapel walls as you exhaled a deep, shuddering breath, your hands clasped tightly in prayer, your head bowed low. You had been kneeling for so long that your legs had gone numb.

“God…” You prayed out, losing track of things you’ve already prayed for previously. Your voice was soft but it felt amplified by the heavy silence in the dark and empty chapel. “I need you to send me a sign. Anything. I just need you to tell me you don’t hate me for who I am.”

Then, as if on cue, a deafening crack of lightning split the air outside, shaking the stained glass windows. You flinched, your heart racing as you lifted your tear-streaked face to glance toward the altar.

You sighed. “Is that the sign?” The words slipped out, dripping with doubt and hesitation. You felt ridiculous asking for clarification for a sign that might have seemed like an obvious disapproval. 

A lot of the sisters have told you that when you pray enough, God speaks to you with clarity, and at times, it did feel that way. But now, he just seemed… so far away and so silent.

Another thunderous clap echoed through the night, louder this time, shaking you to your core.

“If that is really your sign…” Your voice trailed off, trembling. “Then cleanse all the sin away. Cleanse all wrongful desires and replace it with something more pure.”

You paused as you felt the lump in your throat return for the nth time that night and felt your vision become blurry. “I-if you think what I feel for her is a sin… if I’m beyond saving…” You whispered before wiping your tears away, and speaking more firmly. “Then… the least you can do is take it all away. Wipe her from my mind. Take all of it — every memory, every feeling.”

As you said it, you could feel your heart break at the thought of forgetting Alexia. You could feel the sob you’ve been suppressing bubble up to the surface as you fall to pieces. Your body crumpled, collapsing from a kneeling position to sitting back on your legs. You buried your face in your hands, sobbing quietly, your cries muffled by the storm outside.

You couldn’t speak up anymore, feeling like each thunderclap was God’s way of admonishing you. The still statues of the saints seemed to tower over your crumpled posture, signifying just how low you’ve fallen.

“Please, God,” You cried out one last time. “Just… be here.”

At the moment, you felt so empty and alone in the chapel. However, unbeknownst to you, you haven’t been alone in the past few minutes. You’ve grown consumed by your sobs and your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed that Alexia had been lurking at the back of the chapel, carefully walking towards you.

She hadn’t heard much but she heard enough to conclude that you were here because of her. 

She stepped closer to you, her closed umbrella dripping on to the cold marble. The wind continued to rattle the stained glass windows, making the atmosphere feel even more tense. 

As you let out another sob, Alexia finally spoke up. “Are you praying that God will heal me?” Her voice cracked as she said it.

You nearly jumped at the voice cutting through the silence of the chapel. As you turned, your eyes locked with Alexia, standing a few pews back. It was dim — her face illuminated by the faint light of the lamps and candles — but her expression was clearly pained. Her hazel eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips parted and quivering as if wanting to stay something but unable to. 

“D-do you think I’m a sin for liking women too?” she asked, her voice faltering. She was trying to sound firm and composed, but the cracks in her tone betrayed her.

You stood up from your kneeling position, walking towards the taller girl. “Alexia,” you said. “No, no — I wasn’t…”

“I thought you—” Alexia’s voice cracked. She looked down, shaking her head, before looking back up at you. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Alexia, please.” You reached for her hands, clasping them tightly in your own. “It’s not what you think. I wasn’t praying for that.” Your words tumbled out in a rush, defensive and desperate, as though you could will her to understand.

Alexia took her hand away from you. “Then what was all of that ‘erase all memory of her’ I was hearing?” Her voice quivered, blinking rapidly as a few drops of tears trailed down her face. “I thought… I thought you liked me.”

You reached over to her again, trying to touch her face but she backed away. You bit your lip, pained by the sight of her. She looked hurt. “Alexia, you’re misunderstanding…”

“How else can I interpret that?” Her voice was suddenly sharp, tinged with anger and pain. “What else could you mean? How am I supposed to feel when you’re in here begging God to erase me from your life?”

The emotions that bubbled inside of you made it harder for you to formulate a coherent sentence to explain to her just what you were praying about. “Alexia, I really…” You paused. “I was just asking Him for a sign.”

Alexia released a dry, hollow chuckle, obviously pained. “A sign that what? You should distance yourself from me? Because I’m some filthy homosexual dragging you to hell, isn’t that right?” You winced at Alexia’s tone as it cracked through the heavy air. 

“Alexia, stop—please!”

“No, you stop!” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger and grief. “You’re praying to forget me so you can go back to being perfect little monjita, right? So you can live your pure, saintly life without people like me ruining it?” Her lips curled in a bitter smile, her eyes glassy. “Because your god says I’m disgusting, doesn’t he? That people like me don’t deserve to exist?”

“Go ahead, fuck it,” She cursed, not letting you interject with her voice sharp and pointed. “I’ll stay away from you. I won’t bother you anymore just so you can be the perfect angel everyone thought you were again. I’ll stay away so your life can finally be cleansed from—”

Without even thinking twice, you stepped forward and wrapped both arms around Alexia’s waist, burying your head in her chest as you felt the sobs bubble up again. You clutched her tightly as your body shook. 

Startled, Alexia lost her train of thought and kept her hands to her sides, unmoving. When you looked up, she locked eyes with you and saw so much pain in your face. The tears continued to rush down your face with no sign of stopping. Your eyes were filled with a devastating expression that made her heart pang. 

“Alexia, I’m praying because…” Your voice cracked as you struggled to speak through the tears. “I think I like you… and that terrifies me.”

Alexia’s breath hitched, and her arms moved almost involuntarily, wrapping around you in a hesitant but protective embrace. She held you close, her mind racing as conflicting emotions surged through her. She felt confused as to how to feel because here you were, confessing your feelings just after she heard you pray that you forget about her.

Her hazel eyes searched yours as she pulled back slightly, her hands still resting on your shoulders. You could see the confusion and pain warring within her. “You were asking him to help you forget me,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “How am I supposed to believe you now?”

You stepped back, your hands trembling as you wiped at your tear-stained face. “Alexia, I…” You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “I was saying things out of fear — out of confusion. This… this is all I’ve ever known,” you began, your voice cracking. “The church, my faith, my beliefs… they were my whole world.”

“And it was fine.” You said before looking up to Alexia, meeting her hazel eyes once again. “Until you came along.”

Alexia looked away from the eye contact, feeling it was too much for her to handle with the fear of dissolving into tears. You bit your lip and continued. “Then now, when I look back, everything that was… it felt wrong.” 

“You… you showed me,” You said, stepping again towards Alexia to touch her hand. “You showed me that I could be happy. Truly happy. Not just because I was told to be happy or because I felt like I had to be.”

Alexia looked up to you again, locking eyes with you again. But, this time, all the frustration was replaced with something else — her eyes misty and her expression soft. “Then why are you here?” She asked. “Why do you want to get rid of what we have… if I make you happy?”

You looked down, carefully holding on to Alexia’s hesitant fingertips. “I’m still afraid… what if…” You tried to choose your words carefully. “What if my feelings for you are wrong? What if we make that mistake and… we suffer…”

You couldn’t say it more tactfully or more carefully but Alexia could finally understand your internal conflict better. She puts a careful hand under your chin, lifting your head up to look up at her as she moved closer to you.

“Why would this be wrong?” she asked, her voice low but steady, her eyes burning with emotion. “Why would loving you — purely, wholly, completely — be a sin?”

You looked up at Alexia, feeling your breath hitch. Your eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes.

God, you said silently in your head. If this is a sin, strike me with lightning now.

The air between you and the Catalan grew heavier as you both breathed. The silence filled the air with only the sound of the wind howling and the rain pouring on the roof.

You took a deep breath, eyes finding their way back to Alexia’s parted and anticipating lips. 

A pause. A breath held.

Then, suddenly, you were kissing her. Your lips crashed into hers with a fervor that felt almost primal, a hunger that had been building for far too long. Your arms wrapped around her tightly, as though letting go would send her slipping through your fingers, like sand in an hourglass.

Hwr hands found their way around your waist, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss. Her lips pressed against yours, soft and sweet, yet insistent. She parted your lips slightly, her tongue teasing yours with a delicious mix of restraint and desire. The way your body molded against hers left her yearning for more, craving every piece of you. 

She’s kissed other girls before but nothing quite like this. Sure, it had the same passion and intensity. But kissing you went beyond passion. It was transcendence. 

Kissing you felt like kissing heaven.

You shared the same unspoken sentiment but to you, Alexia tasted like freedom. Her lips against yours just managed to melt away all your worries, all your doubts. With every careful yet firm touch on your waist and hips, it felt like your chains were being detached link-by-link and you were finally able to move unconstrained. 

Suddenly, you felt free.

As you became breathless, you pulled away from the taller girl, trying to catch your breath. You looked up at her, searching her own eyes for a response.

Alexia just smiled at you, letting you catch your breath, before taking your face again — her hands gentle but insistent. She leaned in and captured your lips with hers, kissing you in a way that left your face warm and your mind hazy.

It felt right: kissing her, holding her, being hers. Even for a stolen moment. 

There were still a lot of things for you two to worry about. For one, you still resided within the confines of this institution that would condemn you. But you couldn’t think of that at the moment. All you knew was you were kissing Alexia… and that was all that mattered now.

Inside that cold, unyielding chapel, kissing Alexia felt like soaring towards the sun — a forbidden warmth that melted away all the frigid pain inside you. It was a kind of warmth you’ve never felt in your life. It was the kind of warmth you’ve always craved to feel, without even knowing it.

But even Icarus — who sought to feel that same sensation of the satisfying heat — was undone when he flew too close to the sun. Before he could even realize it, his wax had melted and his wings had unraveled.

And came his devastating descent. 

🕊 click for other chapters

a/n: part 2 coming soon! let me know your thoughts. comments motivate me a lot <3 please reply to this if you want to be tagged in part 2.

[silvermoon424]

It's genuinely fucking crazy how much GamerGate and its consequences have ruined internet/fandom culture and people's ability to enjoy things without falling for culture war bullshit (if you didn't know, there's a very good argument to be made that GG paved the way for all of the reactionary, far-right culture war bullshit that's everywhere online these days).

Like all you have to do is look at how characters like Casca, Ellen Ripley, Sarah Connor, etc were treated back in the day. Casca is widely regarded as a strong, capable, well-written character (at least during the Golden Age arc; Berserk fans have rightfully complained about how badly she was sidelined in the aftermath of the Eclipse). I'm sure there were always bigots who hated that Casca is a woman of color and a powerful soldier, but I don't think there was Discourse or anything.

If Berserk came out after 2016, I guarantee there would be hundreds of slop outrage videos and Reddit threads about how Casca's character is "forced diversity" and "woke." People would be outraged that, not only is Casca a non-white character in a medieval European setting, she's also a strong female warrior who inspires loyalty in her (male) troops.

Strong female (or queer, or non-white, etc) characters from an older era like Casca have been grandfathered in as "ACTUAL good representation" by chuds, but you will never be able to convince me that they wouldn't get waves of hate and backlash by culture warmongers if they were created today.

[dcdreamblog]

Did Zatara's adventures in the 40's and with the All-Star Squadron inspire the comic strip character Mandrake the Magician, or was that just a big coincidence?

I'm going to say no for the fairly obvious reason that Mandrake's newspaper strip began publication about 4 years before anyone in the general public had ever heard Zatara's name. Though this does grant me the ability to talk about how Zatara was viewed early in his career as one of the first Mystery Men.

(A still of Zatara from a lost television variety show. Fun Fact, this frame makes Zatara the first Mystery Man, and thus modern superhero, to appear on television)

The Zatara family were always stage magicians, having brought the practice over from Italy when they immigrated just after the Civil War. Young Giovanni was entrusted with the bag of tricks assembled by his grandfather Luigi Zatara, a famous vaudeville and pre-vaudville entertainer.

Giovanni at some point discovered real arcane talent, manifested through his iconic quirk of casting spells simply by speaking his intentions backwards. On the first night of his performance a fire on stage that he was able to put out with his magic inspired him to use his powers for the betterment of others.

Because he was the first "public" mystery man, appearing on the scene when the Crimson Avenger and the Sandman's world rocking debut was still a year or more off it means that the earliest records of his public persona are...strange.

He very quickly made his services available to local police and got into a very public game of cat and mouse with the Tigress, the first true supervillainess. He sold newspapers that was for sure, but nobody really had the terms to describe him.

He's sort of treated in those early days like a Sherlock style civilian detective, a captivating eccentric chasing after equally eccentric criminal personalities with his unique set of skills (obviously no one at that early date believed his magic was real)

It wasn't until after the Mystery Man became public, the JSA was formed, and indeed the All Star Squadron manifested that Zatara made the conscious choice to lean INTO that label. He wasn't even drafted by the All Star Squadron's original sweep. He marched himself up to the front door and volunteered.

This means that, for the war years he holds a fascinatingly weird series of roles. His identity was obviously never private and he continued touring and selling out shows all over the US, Canada and Britain (Even a tour of Australia and New Zealand in '44) with the USO.

He was really the only Mystery Man of his era to be a 100% public and open figure. Lord only knows what might have happened in the aftermath of the HUAC trial if he hadn't already been forced out of the public spotlight because of arcane complications and later the birth of his daughter Zatanna.

I don't really have a closing point here, he just fascinates me. Also I've seen his daughter perform and it is always, ALWAYS worth the money. If Zatanna is coming to your town, get a ticket, leave your skepticism at the door and let her blow your god damn socks off.

[tackythng]

“we set out to change the world... ended up just changing ourselves.”

aka gax velvet goldmine au that no one asked for. not even myself. this came to me in a horrible vision and had me drawing while on vacation. absolute madness.

explanations under the cut:

i could honestly write an essay on this idea but like. i will refrain from doing so. (read: i have so many ideas for this au i might as well write a fic bc it differs from the movie and i am going insane)

something something the pressures of stardom and the fall of prodigies and toxic yaoi and glam rock and punk rock and check the onboard dickhead !!!!!

starring:

george russell as brian slade, max verstappen as curt wilde, charles leclerc as arthur stuart, lewis hamilton as mandy slade, toto wolff as jerry devine, alex albon as shannon, nico rosberg as jack fairy, etc

why these drivers as characters? well george is the type of guy to have an astronomic rise to stardom as a british pop singer with a blue aesthetic only to become fascinated with a punk rock singer who is abrasive and hard to work with. as for everyone else, well. lewis as mandy is a matter of levelheadedness combined with eccentrically inspiring his husband and that makes nico jack bc mandy greatly respects jack and let’s be real nico is the original mercedes twink. alex as shannon bc he only wants the best for george, ending up sort of trapped in the insanity that is maxwell demon. toto as jerry bc he’s so sleazy 70s manager. To me. charles as arthur bc the vibe is right and also lestappen i suppose.

aaaaand that’s a lot of words. Just a small glimpse into my twisted mind.

[chaifootsteps]

College Anon back after so long. Got swamped with, well, college and every time I came in, your ask box was closed haha! Forgot most of my criticisms because these shows are forgettable so sorry if this is disjointed.

Anyways, WHAT THE FUCK. The new episode is SOOOO bad. The jokes are bad apart from a few at the end, the plot is nonsensical and shouldn't have happened right now, the song is TERRIBLE. I made a whole rant in the YouTube comment section because I was genuinely so disappointed.

I had found Full Moon quite good from what I remember because, to me, it was so obviously pro-Blitzø and a turning point for Stolas... Yeah. I should have known I was wrong.

As for the HH leaks, I only watched episode 2. I'm disappointed that Lute is yet another female character centered around a man. I don't like that she's also in love with Adam. It feels like there's too much emphasis on romance instead of friendships and further entangles her with Adam, therefore taking away her agency.

Pentious... I love him! I LOVE that his story is about inaction. It's a great message but his inaction was so heinous that it justifies him being sent to Hell unlike Chidi from The Good Place who showed that they needed a Purgatory for neutral people. Pentious here NEEDED to go to Hell for what he allowed to happen.

I also think this explains perfectly why it's him and not Angel. Because let's be honest, Angel doesn't deserve to go up there. His crimes on Earth and in Hell are a lot harder, if not impossible, to redeem. Him becoming a victim does not take away from the hurt he and his family caused. He could help raise the fact that being sexual isn't a crime and that Hell pushes people to get worse, with punishment unfitting for their wrongdoings. But unlike Sir Pentious, he wasn't a good person and actively harmed people. It wasn't that he was pushed to it when he was a decent person before, he simply got worse and had his remorse disappeared. In the end, it makes the fact that Charlie chose HIM to represent her goal of redemption laughable because Pentious is, he was always so obviously The One. It makes Angel's jealousy and insecurity tragic, which I wish they would explore, because he was right. He SHOULD BE. He likely won't reach redemption or not as easily. Pentious was the one to help Charlie's dreams come true and bring change, help making the afterlife better. And, my God, that would be SUCH a good concept and arc for Angel, especially when he's in a toxic, messy, and deeply abusive relationship, in a job he loves and hates, struggling to make new friendships work as a new him.

I know none of what they set up will be used or used well but the premise is good and so when they introduce these things, it makes the episode good. It's just that what comes next isn't. Pentious crying at the end of the episode is heartbreaking. The jokes land (love Abel! Great foil to Adam, I wish they introduced Cain for funsies. Saint Peter (iirc) is also pretty funny. I like that Sera is the only competent person in the room, it explains a lot (esp when you could infer that Adam nudged her in the worst direction possible) and just works), the songs are nice, the visuals are promising. The story is meh but it IS character-driven and that's working.

That said, of course it's gross to use a real life situation as backstory even though it's become akin to a legend/myth. I think they should have had something similar, maybe inspired or a clear reference to it, but not the actual deal. People died! Thousands lived in fear! A little bit of respect please!

Also, I still hope that Adam is brought back for REAL. NOT shoved in as fanservice as I bet happened but as a genuine foil to Pentious and the idea of redemption. Something to keep angels accountable, something that proves God gives a fuck. Let there be an actual cycle. We KNOW angels can fall. Between Lucifer and the Cherubs, we have ample proof. C'mon this would give Vaggie an arc, development and a backstory. Adam is a genuinely funny character with lots of potential, his VA is AMAZING and his music genre slaps. Bring him back you cowards!

Last note: it feels like the songs are FINALLY finished. Unlike Season 1, it doesn't feel like a draft or like they're missing instruments or an entire part (often a bridge). I might be biased because I don't care about ballads and Lute's song shares a rock-ish sound with Adam, whose songs were the best of the soundtrack, but it feels like there's some improvement here.

If your ask box is still open, I might send what I commented on the lastest HB episode because I feel like it's a decent critic but whatever. Been a while, hope you're doing well and that you aren't as harassed as before by the shitty fandom Viv is cultivating!

Ahh, I apologize for the frequently closed ask box! I hate the thought of people coming in with something to say and being met with that, but as of this moment, it's pushing 1,000. But I'm happy to report that the Viv standom's been mostly leaving me alone!

These are excellent thoughts, definitely agree on the music -- it seems to be a pretty prevailing opinion -- and I hope you're doing well too!

[pikachic]

Hi it's me again. TMA/POKÉMON AU??? YES HELLO PARDON ME I NEED TO THROW MYSELF AT THIS OCCULUS AU YOU'VE GOT GOING ON IF YOU DONT MIND

*BUSTS DOWN THE DOOR* I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED

I’ve had this AU simmering away for a while and but haven’t posted that much about it, so thank you for the excuse to scream about my extremely self indulgent Pokémon x The Magnus Archives AU

*ahem*

Introducing:

POKÉMON OCULUS

(Here’s an illustration I did after getting your ask - Champion Jonathan and his ace Pokémon, Vigitera!)

This AU is set in the Ervenis Region, a relatively small island region off the coast of Galar. It closed its borders two years prior to the main storyline, shortly after its Champion went missing during a series of attacks in its major cities and his predecessor was found murdered. Since then, an acting Champion has been instated and the borders have been reopened, but the Champion still has not been found. Most Ervenisans believe he is dead.

However, the Ervenis Champion isn’t as dead as everyone thinks, and his disappearance is only the first in long chain of events that will shake Ervenis to its very core, orchestrated by a man who aims to rule over a ruined world governed by nothing but his own will and the fear of people and Pokémon alike, and who will stop at nothing to bring that goal into reality.

More lore under the cut!

(Some of the AU-specific names and terms might be placeholders in that I haven’t been able to come up with anything better lmao)

(Also some of the art might be a bit old)

General Lore Stuff

Jon is the Champion who went missing, and Gertrude is his murdered predecessor.

Martin is Ervenis’ Pokémon Professor

Martin being the Professor is literally perfect.

Be. Because.

All of the Pokemon Professors (except for the newest ones) are named after trees.

And Martin’s last name is BLACKWOOD. Which is an ACTUAL TREE.

(My first rough attempt at drawing Jmart in the Pokémon art style)

Also jmart are extremely married

They’re Ervenis’ favorite power couple

(Professor Blackwood for half of the main plot: *sighs.* …I miss my husband. I miss him a lot. I’ll be back.)

Their Pokémon ship name would be Londonfogshipping

Martin has a Galvantula (most likely a regional form), a Sinistea, a Frosslass, and a Togekiss

Jon, in addition to AU-specific Fakemon, has a Gardevoir and a Luxray

Jon also has a shiny Appletun on his team and Martin has a Flapple. Make of that what you will :D

Also yes there are Fakemon in this thing

I have never designed any Fakemon before except for one thirty-minute period of time from when I was ten but I’m not going to let that stop me

(Initial Fakemon sketches! Three guesses as to which characters get Sqwyrm and Manickregus and the first two don’t count)

(Also Ervenisan Yamask has another form, which evolves into Ervenisan Cofagrigus which is inspired by the Do Not Open coffin)

(I have a whole list of Fakemon designs I want to make but 90% of them aren’t fleshed out at all)

Tim and Sasha are Professors in their own right, and also Martin’s assistants/fellow researchers

Tim has a Houndoom because I saw another TMA Pokémon AU that gave him one and I really liked the idea, he also has a Ludicolo because I lost a debate with my friend who is also into both TMA and Pokémon

Sasha has a Dartrix and a Meowstic

Most of the Avatars are gym leaders

(Yippee gym leader designs!)

(Not pictured because I ran out of steam before I could draw them: Michael and Helen, who run a double Electric-type gym; Daisy, who runs a Dragon-type gym; Karolina, who runs a Ground-type gym; and Jared, who runs a Normal-type gym)

Elias is the acting Champion in Jon’s absence and the secret leader of Team Chrysalis

The current Elite Four consists of Peter, Simon, Maxwell, and Annabelle

You might have noticed that Jon and the gym leaders are all wearing (mostly) black pendants/brooches

This is part of the Ervenis’ region’s “gimmick:”

Metafestation (which is. Almost definitely a placeholder name)

Skilled trainers can use special items called Metalenses to tap into the psyches of Pokemon and Trainer to manifest the shape of their desires and the power of their emotions in reality.

You basically give the Pokémon a JoJo Stand

Each Metalens must be specially shaped and cut to suit unique trainers and Pokémon, and since using poorly made Metalenses may have disastrous consequences on its users, only a handful of people have the qualifications and legal authorization to do so

(Gerard Keay is one of these people!)

Metalenses are usually worn as pendants or brooches so they’re close to the user’s heart

For the Metafestation power-up to be strongest, the trainer and Pokémon must have a shared goal/desire and a deep bond

(This bond does not have to be a positive one. It just needs to be strong.)

These Metafestations have their own typing system, though no one’s been able to figure out exactly what it is yet.

It’s the Fears. The Fears are the typing system.

Though most users of this system aren’t aware of it, Metafestation comes from achieving a delicate balance of both desire and fear.

When I first came up with this idea, it was JUST Fear, but I felt like that was a bit dark for frickin POKÉMON so I added the desire aspect

After all, what we fear and and what we desire often go hand in hand

You desire safety because you fear its absence, you desire light because you fear the dark, you desire freedom because you fear being confined, etc.

For example, Professor Blackwood desires companionship, and fears being forgotten. Most of the Metafestations he and his Pokémon create are foggy and cold, but in a way soothing at the same time.

Though a small handful of them are spindly and laced with puppet strings and reflect his desire to wield his cunning for good.

(However, he hasn’t been able to properly use his Metalens in years. The first and only time he tried after his husband vanished, it backfired horribly, consuming both him and his Pokémon in a chilling fog and sending them spiraling into unconsciousness. It took weeks for them to recover, and Professor Blackwood bears a physical scar of the incident in the streaks of stark white in his hair.)

Of course, most people don’t have just one desire/fear. The Metalens just channels the strongest ones, and most users don’t achieve more than three separate tertiary types of power-ups.

One of the biggest exceptions is Jon.

He desires many things: Safety, love, knowledge. He also fears many things: Being manipulated and controlled, abandonment, the unknown.

When he was a child, something happened to him that scarred his psyche in such a way that he could channel all of his desires and fears.

It’s what makes him such a potent conduit for the power-up system, and what makes him a prime target for:

Team Chrysalis

Team Chrysalis is a criminal organization/sort of cult disguised as something innocent: The Magnus Institute, the region’s main research institution that Professor Blackwood works at

The AU’s main plot gets kicked off when Professor Blackwood finds evidence that his husband, the missing Champion, is still alive

If this were a real game, the main story on the side of doing the gym challenge would be helping Professor Blackwood look for clues about Jon’s whereabouts and about The Magnus Institute’s hidden goals

Professor Blackwood also figures out that it’s very likely that Elias had a hand in Jon’s disappearance

(Professor Blackwood for the other half of the main plot: *slams down the Do Not Open coffin in front of Elias* It’s a coffin. There’s a name engraved on it. “WHORE!” IT’S EMPTY!! *grabs Elias by the collar* AND YOU’RE GOING IN IT!!!)

The Elite Four are also part of Team Chrysalis and fully on board with its plan

Though Annabelle might have her own machinations going on

Team Chrysalis plans to reshape the world as they see fit by summoning a Legendary Pokémon that’s a warped physical manifestation of the fears and desires of all living creatures, and simultaneously embodies and feeds on those fears and desires

(It’s basically all the Fears mashed into one eldritch monstrosity)

(I’m mildly worried this sounds too similar to some existing legendaries but at the same time I’m just spitballing and having fun here)

To summon this Legendary, they need a lynchpin capable of channeling all of those fears and desires

This lynchpin is Jon because of course it is.

Team Chrysalis’ whole plan actually only serves to grant Elias immortality and make him king of a ruined world but shhh none of the team members know that

I have zero idea what the Legendary would look like, I just have the fact I want it to have “Pan” in its name

The climax of the story comes when Team Chrysalis starts their ritual and the end of the world. In order to stop them, their Vessel and the Legendary must be defeated.

You are challenged by The Archivist!

The Really Self Indulgent Part

I started working on this at the same time that my friend was watching through XY for the first time

So at some point when coming up with all of the story stuff my brain went “what if I stuck Ash Ketchum into the story?”

So Ash is there now. For some reason lol

He’s 19 now and is just doing his thing and traveling the world

As usual, he takes on the player’s role, challenging gyms and helping Professor Blackwood in his investigation and eventually helping him take on Team Chrysalis

(I made this shitpost in like. Less than an hour lmao)

Ash is so done with these evil team leaders trying to destroy the world

Greninja is also there because tHIS IS MY AU AND I DO WHAT I WANT *MANIACAL LAUGHTER*

And I think that’s it for an overview of Pokémon Oculus!

I have a bunch more stuff for this AU, mostly spitballs and WIP writing snippets, and I do plan on making more art and Fakemon designs eventually (especially now that I’m getting better at emulating the Pokémon art style)

Thank you for reading this far, and feel free to ask me anything about this AU! :D

[cadecastelis]

MHA epilogue spoilers 3 2 1

Mandatory internet Disclaimer I love most of the izuocha shippers and every ship has good and bad shippers etc

Second mandatory disclaimer I honestly believe the leaks could potentially be fake! but for the sake of assuming they’re not fake cause we don’t rly know…

I’ve already seen izuocha shippers claiming that the ending isn’t demeaning to any characters and doesn’t unravel their development at all and to this I say: I beg you to learn media literacy. You’re allowed to be happy your ship became canon! But to deny it became canon at the expense of all four of their characters is rich.

Reducing the main female character to just be the love interest in the very final moments of the series (when none of the rest of the series explicitly focused on much romantic love) can only take away from her character, not add to it. Whatever happened to her main arc? Learning to see the good in others and wanting to learn what makes himiko tick whilst letting go of the desires that were holding her back and confining her (aka her crush on deku), only to turn around in the last moments we see her to come crawling back to Deku with toga on the forefront of her mind.

Himiko dying for this woman, learning what it means to be understood and to be loved for who she truly is, only to be reduced to the motivating factor in Ochako’s relationship. Her memory is used to further Ochakos ambition to…go out with a man? We could have spent the final moments of the manga seeing how himiko inspired Ochako to help young kids be understood and gain control of their quirks!! Wasn’t that what she was doing in her honor and memory in the last chapter? Why not focus on that?

Once again, we see strong and competent women reduced to nothing but play pieces for the male characters in their final moments. You can say all you want how Ochako deserves to have a happy romantic relationship, regardless of gender, and she does, but no matter what this will take away from her character. This will be the first thing on peoples mind after finishing the series. The aftertaste left in their mouth. In their final moments, these women are used as romantic options for men. Himiko is not remembered as the martyr of a story about privilege and humanity, but instead as the mournful embodiment of the survivors guilt holding Ochako back.

As for the boys, this 100% reduced their characters as well. Izuku’s hero is Ochako? What did she do for him directly? Of course she’s heroic, but what did she do for him? Her most heroic moment was not when deku was even there to witness, it was a private moment between her and himiko so *why* is she his hero? What happened to all the reasons katsuki is his hero? Is he just chopped liver now? The beautiful parallels and hundreds of chapters set up to revolve around these two and instead in the end we focus on…something else? It’s kinda like how monoma is so prominent during the final battle as well as number ten on the rankings? He’s cool and all but why? Why him out of everyone? The focus is not where it should be.

And Katsuki’s whole motif with the hands and reaching out to Deku, finally being the one to reach out first in the final chapter, only for Deku to take someone else’s hand in the epilogue. Like. Come on. Now we don’t have the full epilogue yet, and rukasu & Ever (via twitter) said that there will be a scene where Baku and deku talk with each other, but going based on the full page leaks we have, is it not wild to u guys that the stories own deuteragonist gets less time in the epilogue than MULTIPLE side characters?? As much as I adore shoto, [he’s one of my top five mha characters (as is uraraka!)], Katsuki comes before both of them in terms of narrative importance. He is our deuteragonist, yet I see less of him in the leaks than monoma 😭

I could go on but like. I’m glad izuocha shippers can be happy, I truly am. But before any of you go around claiming it was a good way to make them canon, take some time to really understand the characters and what this kind of ending is saying about them.

Cause this isn’t the ending they deserve

[devotedlypinkpeanut]

The Good King — Teaser

SUMMARY : In this first life, you attract the attention of King Lee Heeseung, known throughout the kingdom as the good king. Seemingly tender, patient and fair, he is admired for his passion and determination to achieve his goals. But behind this mask hides a man obsessed with you, ready to do anything to have you. His obsession becomes a dangerous game where tricks and manipulations intertwine with a captivating sweetness, plunging you into a whirlwind of emotions. Whether it's seducing you or breaking down any barriers between you, Heeseung is determined to make you his, no matter the cost.

PAIRING : Lee Heeseung x fem!reader 

GENRE : Dark romance, obsession, drama, slow burn, psychological tension, historical romance, reincarnation, fantasy, reverse harem

Hello everyone!

I hope you are well! I wanted to share a little preview of the second chapter of my story, which is heavily inspired by the series The Tudors and Reign . If you like royal intrigue, complicated relationships and a good dose of psychological tension, I'm sure you'll enjoy this story!

The universe takes place in a historical setting, with fascinating characters and intense power games. Obsession, mystery and manipulation are at the heart of the plot, a bit like in these series. I hope you will like this teaser, and I can't wait to see if you are as impatient as I am to discover the rest! 😊

Series Masterlist

The grand ballroom, lit by hundreds of candles, seemed to transform into an ocean of flickering light. The reflections danced on the stone walls, mingling with the laughter and hushed murmurs of the guests, creating an unreal, almost magical atmosphere. But in the middle of this sea of ​​elegance and splendor, Heeseung was elsewhere, out of time, out of everything that surrounded him. His gaze, carried away by a force greater than him, did not leave your silhouette.

There you were, in the center of the room, a mystery embodied in your midnight blue velvet dress. It hugged your curves with an almost unreal fluidity, every movement you made seemed suspended in time. The dress, delicately adorned with gold and silver threads, sparkled under the candlelight, like a sea of ​​sapphires, and every step you took caused a wave of admiration among the guests. But it wasn't just the beauty of your outfit that captivated Heeseung. It was you, the shine hidden behind your mask, the discreet glow of your eyes that barely reflected under the veil. It was that look, that look that seemed to carry everything in its path, like a calm sea hiding raging waves beneath.

He no longer heard the voices around him, not even King Francis I speaking in his ear, the latter's words becoming indistinct whispers in the back of his mind. Francis, in the middle of a speech about politics and possible alliances, had no idea that Heeseung was completely elsewhere. He was absorbed, captive to a moment, a single moment: you. The conversations were reduced to background noise. There was only this palpable tension, this electrification of the air between you, and everything around him seemed to distort and dissolve into a light mist.

Heeseung was hanging on your every move. Shadows danced around you, shards of light playing here and there, intensifying the depth of your face barely revealed under the veil. His gaze, captivated by the curve of your neck, slid slowly over your face, following the perfect line of your features to finally stop on your eyes. Those eyes… they were everything. That was where the mystery and the truth he ardently desired to uncover lay. Behind that mask, behind that veil that concealed almost everything, he guessed that you carried something precious, rare, inaccessible. And that, more than anything, troubled him deeply.

He was there, in that sea of ​​light and laughter, but there was nothing left but you and him. Nothing else. Nothing else mattered.

Francis, completely unaware of the seductive power of the scene, continued his speech. He spoke of strategy, alliances, lands to annex and potential marriages. He spoke, spoke endlessly. But all this was lost in the void for Heeseung, who, while keeping Francis in his field of vision, could not take his eyes off you. He heard the king's words, but did not listen to them. They had become empty, futile. Heeseung felt alien to this world of politics and plots, like a spectator trapped in a dream from which he was desperately trying to awaken.

When Francis finally caught sight of Heeseung's intense fixation, he understood. A slight mocking smile played on his lips. He approached him, like a predator ready to savor its prey, and murmured in a low, amused voice, almost invisible amidst the bursts of laughter and surrounding conversations: "So, Heeseung, you seem particularly absorbed by one of the Belmont sisters, don't you?" His tone betrayed an amusement that was in no way sincere. A slippery amusement, more cruel than benevolent, all the while knowing the effect it could have on him.

Heeseung, in spite of himself, felt his heart racing, an intense heat invaded his chest. He briefly looked away, staring at Francis for a moment, but immediately, his attention turned back to you. It was no longer a question of will. He could no longer take his eyes off you. The simple thought of leaving this moment, of moving away from you, filled him with a sort of palpable anguish. He wanted to know everything. Understand everything. He felt his soul contract under the intensity of the desire he felt, an irrepressible need to approach this mystery.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of himself, but the question escaped him before he could even stop it.

“Who… Who is she?” His voice, trembling despite himself, betrayed the depth of the desire he felt. It wasn’t just a superficial curiosity. No, it was a visceral need. An urgency to know everything, to understand everything. To discover who you really were.

Francis, of course, noticed the vulnerability in her voice. It only made his smile grow wider. He moved closer, leaning in with measured slowness, as if savoring every word, every moment where he would have the power to delve a little deeper into Heeseung's silent suffering.

“Ah, Y/n Belmont…” The king sighed, and the sigh sounded almost nostalgic, as if the young woman’s name evoked an old story, a distant and elusive romance. “She is… different, you know. A solitary soul, lost in her books, far from worldly distractions. She finds more pleasure in the solitude of her library than in the arms of men. But…” Francis let a silence settle, a smile that was far from innocent spreading across his lips. “Her sister, Giselle, she… She loves the court, the attention, the glory. I have…” The king paused, weighing his words. “I rode her, many times, once upon a time. An effervescent passion, but without mystery. I called her my ‘French mare’.”

Heeseung absorbed every word that Francis said about you. He tried to understand why you obsessed him, why each sentence of Francis seemed to chain him more to this inexorable desire to know you, to possess you. An inner storm that he could not control consumed him. He tried to look away from Francis, who seemed to savor the situation with obvious pleasure. But when his gaze caught sight of you again in the crowd, a shiver ran down his spine.

Without even a glance at Francis, without paying attention to the other guests who turned to watch his departure, he put down his glass with a sudden movement, leaving a trace of wine flowing onto the tablecloth. He stood up, his body guided by a force he did not understand, a force greater than himself. He crossed the room with a quiet determination, an obvious and irrevocable goal. His heart was beating at a frantic pace, but there was no more room for fear or hesitation. He was heading straight for you.

And all around him, the air seemed to thicken. The murmurs of the guests, the bursts of laughter and the looks of lust, all of it was nothing more than a rough sea that seemed far away, almost nonexistent. In his mind, there was only you. Just you.

[blood-drawn-by-love]

For those who are wondering where to go for community as obey-me’s’ downfall is on the horizon;

a bit of a dramatic title lol I propose my community: The Blood Drawn by Love fandom! (Rated 16+)

It is not a fully finished game like obey me, (yet) however it still has content (fanfic, fanart, insert ocs, official art, ect. Even some finished game OST’s!) and currently a small community, which if that is something your looking for we have it.

plus BDBL has overlapping themes as obey me so if you still need to fulfill that demon-boyfriend itch you’ve come to the right place.

read more for further elaboration:

TLDR/summary: You accidentally steal a spell book, transporting yourself into the underworld, ending up having to jump through hoops with the help of an abnormally kind.. demon? He doesn’t seem to like that title. Only to be wrapped up in another conquest that seems bigger than life itself, traveling through the realms and eventually facing Lucifer himself as he took notice of you and your teams deeds throughout the rings.

Shockingly enough obey me didn’t really inspire this game pretty much at all, just for the record.

Blood Drawn by Love is an adventure visual novel with dating sim elements and battle mechanics and so far 20+ characters to interact with. The MC is as neutral in identifying features (such as gender, race, and body type) as I could make them.

here is the discord server.

a significantly longer explanation of the plot:

You play a human who’s really down on their luck recently and while walking by a carnival you spot one of those fortune teller tents. Not having much else to do, you go and get your fortune told. Couldn’t hurt, right? At most you’d loose a few dollars.

It doesn’t look good so the ‘teller’ goes to set up a luck spell.

You end up bumping into a small shelf, causing a few items and a book to fall off of it, next thing you know the air is cold and your waking up somewhere you don’t recognize.

However luck finally beams upon you as your found by someone who looks just a little different than all the other scary creatures you’ve seen.

from than on you realize you’ve been transported to the underworld via the wrong potion falling on the open transport page of the tellers spell book, of whom is actually one of the strongest known witches who would be pissed to know you lost their book.

you both go and adventure the realms to find it, only to get roped up in another, much longer winded scheme of having to save each realm from their own sins personified. Who knew Satan would be a horse and not a red guy with horns and wings? You travel through each ring and learn their various cultures, species, and customs. You meet a lot of strange people but they don’t seem that bad, they’re quite charming in their own ways, even. by time your help is no longer needed you find yourself with a new found community, and potentially love. Would staying be so bad?

[corvidares]

breaking down arcane's s2 intro

this intro sequence is so damn good - i spotted new symbolic details every episode. so here's a post about everything i noticed!

spoiler warning for the whole show!

everyone featured in this intro is dressed very plainly, in white underclothes, showing how much this sequence is about where people are at emotionally, a commentary on vulnerability. this is a big theme this season. even the setting is plain, highlighting only the characters in a way that feels like a mental landscape.

immediately, we see vi wiping away her face tattoo as if its shallow ink, naturally showing how she betrays her own values and personhood in (briefly) becoming an enforcer, helping caitlyn gas the fucking undercity, and hunt down her sister.

i saw a post that pointed this out, so i cant take credit for it; ekko standing there forms shadows that mimic the hands on a clock, foreshadowing his time travel powers.

viktor is almost entirely obscured in an oversized cloak, reaching to pick up a mask and contemplate it. his entire personhood is murky, in question. hes about to don an identity much larger than himself. that being fantasy jesus the herald of course. the mask will be him taking on that role, as well as eventually putting it on to suppress his humanity entirely, even in a literal sense when he changes forms.

next we get embessa, sitting regally, surrounded by fallen petals and holding a black rose in her hand, examining it. this reflects her history with the black rose, the conflict - her son and the council member die for it, and countless others im sure. but shes still got her predatory gaze fixed on it. a slash of light goes through her - perhaps symbolizing a break in the family legacy, between their past and present. mel will be taking over and changing things, changing the family's relationship with magic.

caitlyn psyches herself up, then hesitantly steps out past a curtain into a lit space, tilting her chin up after a moment in a show of bravado. clearly showing her "stepping onto the stage" and into her role of new power; both under embessa and in the wake of her mother's legacy as a councilmember.

jayce squints in the face of a floodlight, bringing up his hand to block out. the light is the arcane, and he blocks it out in his refusal to let it take over the world with viktor's perfect evolution.

embessa crushes the rose in her hand, but curiously, her eyes glow. perhaps showing that her being with whoever mel's other parent is, the magical one, is her introducing magic to the family?

then we cut to mel, who again has that slash of light going down the exact center of her face. shadowy hands reach out to her, and her expression if one of apprehension. she closes her eyes as they close in. the slash is back representing this divide, this change, and most importantly her decision regarding this change. she hasnt made it yet, and despite all signs pointing to her needing to, she closes her eyes to the bigger picture, her mothers influence and agents creep in, nearly overtaking her. the black rose does literally capture and almost kill her.

jinx waves her flag, and we see her shadows multiply behind her. she has unwittingly started a revolution with her image, people are inspired by it and use it to push for change. we zoom into her expression and its uncertain, and yet full of wonder. she is reconciling with what shes created, this revolution in her name.

we cut to vi's face, hardened in determination, and then to her and caitlyn facing off. theyre intimately close, and yet they crash into each other just a moment later, obviously showing theyre conflicting ideals this season literally breaking them up. this is in direct relation with the previous shot of jinx, because it comes down to her and caitlyn doing anything she can to hunt her down.

caitlyn is now alone, breathing heavily, and her fingers around her face form a shadow of a clawed crown. shes wearing it now, but her leadership is a violent one. she peers up through her fingers, towards the light. perhaps realizing what shes done?

ekko runs forward and then rewinds time. time travel. not much else to say here LMAO

we go back to the same shot of mel from before, but now she opens her eyes and roars, the shadows immediately being driven away. she is stepping up, taking charge of her own destiny, influences be damned. next shes sitting on the same couch her mom was earlier, picking up that same black rose with intrigue. she is finally learning what it is, how it relates to her family and herself. picking up gently where her mother refused to.

we see, jayce again, but now from his own perspective, raising up his hand to the bright light, which then cuts to viktor about to don the mask. cut again to jayce, from behind, still squinting into that light. he is the last one to stand against viktor's glorious revolution, to save his last dreggs of humanity.

all that, in just over a minute.. so fucking good. not to mention the various frames that change from episode to episode, which arent really visible unless you slow down the footage, but hint to various happenings.

[basedonconjecture]

I wished we’d gotten to see more of the whole Illario/Zara situation. Never mind that entire plot line is so obvious from the jump because of how cartoonishly suspicious they made Illario look that, even (or especially) with only the knowledge the game gives you about these characters, it’s really difficult to ignore the trope that’s being telegraphed with the subtlety of a fire alarm every time Illario is around. I can accept the twist being obvious if they’d bothered to explain how he got to that point.

I think it’s way too easy to say Illario seduced Zara with this plan to get his cousin out of the way already in mind. Zara was already targeting Lucanis at the end of TWJ, she was already watching him and plotting. I think it’s far more interesting (and tragic) to consider that Zara knew Lucanis was favored by Caterina, knew at least something of he and Illario’s relationship (enough to surmise there would be a rivalry/jealousy there she could exploit), knew Lucanis was going to be formidable to take on directly because of his actions in Vyrantium, and used Illario to get to him. Maybe Illario even realized this at some point and tried to turn it around so that he could claim taking down Zara and finally prove himself to Caterina. But by then Lucanis’ whole reputation as the Demon of Vyrantium had grown so large that now it was not only rumored he’d be the next First Talon, it was assumed, even wanted, and, in a moment of weakness, he gave Zara the information she needed to trap Lucanis.

Then, like most everyone else, he assumes Lucanis is dead. Faced with the reality of what he’s done, his guilt and regret are right at the surface during the wake while everyone assumes it’s only grief. He then spends the next year with these feelings, hardening himself to them, trying to make peace with it, trying to convince himself that at least he could spare his cousin from a life of death in the end anyway. All the while the one thing he’s wanted most, that he’s worked all his life for, remains just out reach.

And then it turns out Lucanis is alive. The complexity of what all that means. The shock and relief. The time he’s spent grieving and regretting and trying to reconcile what he’s done. The ways he’s killed parts of himself off to further compartmentalize just to cope with his conscience. All of it for nothing. As soon as his cousin is back in the picture, he knows the heat will be turned up even higher to find the traitor. He knows Caterina suspects him or else she would have trusted him to know Lucanis was alive. There’s a chance he could have put it right before anyone found out it was him but instead…he panics. And he continues to panic. And the more he tries to keep anyone from finding out his relationship to Zara, the more he spirals and the more paranoid he gets, leading everyone right to the truth. Right up to the end, Lucanis trusted him. Only when it’s undeniable does Lucanis accept his cousin has betrayed him. And EVEN THEN Lucanis doesn’t want him dead for it.

The greatest betrayal in this situation isn’t what Illario did. It’s what he DIDN’T do. And that was trust Lucanis to understand, to be willing to forgive if not forget. He could have saved himself by confessing instead of taking Caterina and trying to cover his tracks. And it’s so obvious why he didn’t and so fucking sad. Idk idk it just could have been so much more emotionally satisfying to watch this man blow up his entire life if he’d been given an ounce more nuance and/or ways out that he didn’t take. Instead we’re left with a cartoon villain who inspires little empathy because he’s been so flattened by the narrative. Imagine, instead, that the incredibly obvious way they were setting him up to be the villain was actually turned on it’s head when you finally get to meet Zara and she reveals how she’s been manipulating him this whole time, that she’d let this master seducer believe he’d gotten her, all to get Lucanis for her grand plans because, even for her, Illario wasn’t the wanted one but she kept him around in case she needed him. He’s…just the spare Dellamorte fldksjdndjdbd

Every time I think about this I lose a little bit more of my sanity.

[jullbnt]

I'm sorry, I don't really understand what you meant about EoW? What does it change if the Golden Goddesses die first and only create Hyrule after being reincarnated? Sorry if it's obvious haha, maybe I'm missing something ^^

I have no problem with the Three creating the entire world, that's what I understand from the "creation myth" told by the Deku Tree in OoT. The thing I have some issues with is that EoW implies that rifts have always opened throughout Hyrule even though that's never been mentioned before. But I understand that Nintendo wants to create new villains/lore and it also doesn't contradict everything that was established before, so I can live with it (and I'm really pleased that the Triforce and all are back). I guess we just need to imagine that it all happened off-screen and that the Tris always managed to close the rifts on their own before EoW. Another thing is that I thought Demise already represented primordial chaos, but maybe I was only mislead by his French name (Avatar du Néant = Avatar of the Void).

(Btw did you see that Nintendo added EoW to the official timeline a few days ago? It's no big surprise that it's on the DT between Triforce Heroes and LoZ, but it's still great to see it confirmed!)

Yes I've thought of having the dragons from SS die at some point and get replaced by the new ones from BotW (because as you said the thunder dragon demonstrated that they can die). That's one possibility I have in mind and it's probably the easiest way to do this, but I'd still prefer for them to be the same dragons from SS. I still need to think about it (as well as many other things) ^^

Since I'm not a fan of the Zonai I won't advocate for the dragons to keep the third eye haha! But it could have looked cool. I'm not sure they already had the Zonai in mind when they designed the dragons though, that's probably the explanation for the third eye's disappearance. Yes the thicker part at the end of their bodies and the big spike look a bit weird! That leonin tail would have looked good, especially on the Light Dragon since she also has a golden mane. I'm glad they didn't keep the giant horns though, they were a bit much.

I actually like the singing in SS (and Link's reactions), especially when they all gather to perform the Song of the Hero! It's mostly Faron's voice during dialogues that doesn't sit right with me. And the faces definitely look uncanny!

It's fine if you don't like this theory about the dragons! I'm not 100 % sold myself, just trying to make things work because I think having two separate sets of dragons with names inspired by the Goddesses is a bit confusing (especially if we add the Light Spirits on top of that). Water and ice are kind of the same element to me, but maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see 😆

Oh these dragon redesigns are so cool!! Let me just add a link to the original post to credit the artist (charcoaldustonmyfingers) in case anyone is still reading this.

Yes the dragons looked more unique in SS but they were actual characters so it makes sense that they would be more detailed. The names sound cool but maybe they would require an explanation as to why the Goddesses' names were mixed ^^

Oh you're right about the symbols on their foreheads in SS, I completely forgot about that. Guess I can't really act like it's not there haha! But I'll never be able to associate Farore with water and Nayru with thunder, it's really frustrating.

Yes Rauru could have mentioned that to Link, or maybe to Zelda when he explains he's the first king. And you're right they should have included something about Sonia and Rauru's descendance and the disparition of the Zonai, otherwise it just looks like a gigantic plot hole.

I know about Rhoam's diary of course ^^ It's just that I was never fully convinced by the idea that Zelda simply lacked a teacher so I tend to forget that the game provided this explanation (and I'm so used to my own headcanons that sometimes I forget they're just that). Mipha tried to help Zelda by explaining how her own magic worked, and (even though it's the cheesiest thing ever) it's rather obvious that she meant to say she accessed her healing powers by thinking about someone she loved, aka Link. Since Zelda's power awakes when she's trying to save Link, it seems Mipha was right. If so, Zelda's mother wasn't the only one who could have taught her, and maybe Rhoam should have sought the help of other magic wielders to train his daughter (kind of weird that he didn't). I really don't like the idea that Zelda's power works the same way as healing magic and that all she needed was love, but that's what the game implies (unless I'm completely wrong).

Also we don't know whether the queen and her ancestors actually possessed the same sealing power as Zelda. Being able to hear the voices of spirits is nowhere near being able to seal Ganon, but maybe the real sealing power only manifests when the Calamity appears (who knows). The thing is, that would make every woman born in the royal family a potential "Zelda". And I know it's not clear whether all Zeldas are the same person like Link is or if they only share the blood of the Goddess, but I like to think she gets reincarnated the same way Link does so that they can reunite (OoT Zelda mentions that Link is familiar to her). It just sounds weird that Hylia would make sure her Hero gets reborn over and over again but not her (and it might just be that everyone in Hyrule gets reincarnated anyway, just look at characters like Impa, Dampé or Beedle). And if all of Hyrule's princesses potentially inherit Hylia's power and just need a teacher, it sounds a lot less special. What about this "legend of Zelda", you know?

(It's also kind of dumb that no queen ever thought something like this could happen and took the time to write some sort of user manual, especially when it seems pretty common for queens to die quite young in Hyrule. I mean we've seen plenty of kings but never Zelda's mother)

Let's also remember that no other Zelda before had this sealing power, except maybe for Sky Zelda/Sun. So now if other random queens and princesses can inherit it, that would make them more powerful than all the Zeldas we know. That's another reason why I believe the Wild Era doesn't fit at the end of any of the three timelines, unless the Goddesses also changed the rules for Zelda's power when/if they merged the timelines.

My headcanon is that Zelda is the only one who can wield Hylia's power, so her mother being alive might not have made a difference. I like to believe that any Zelda needs to do the whole Skyward Sword pilgrimage with the Goddess Harp in hand in order to awake her divine nature, but of course this knowledge would get lost to time and no princess ever does it (though BotW Zelda was only missing the harp and specific rituals). In the end Zelda's desire to save Link and the bond between them as Hero and Princess would be enough of a trigger for her to bypass the rituals and access her power anyway (but not Hylia's memory as she does in SS). That's how I try to make what happens in BotW work with previous lore, but that's only my take.

Anyway I also like to believe the Queen was assassinated by the Yiga clan! I've seen this theory quite often in fanfic and it's pretty credible. I also like the idea that the "blood of the Goddess" part of Demise's curse would apply to the entire Hylian population.

I'm doing my best to find TotK's lore and story interesting, but it just doesn't do it for me. I listened to QuestWithAaron's videos (I actually think I already did so last year) and though the references to Japanese culture are evident and interesting, I just don't think it's enough to make a good story. Maybe I'm a bit too harsh, I don't know, or it's just not for me. I think Ganondorf is most interesting when he is his own character with his own motive (like Wind Waker Ganondorf), I don't want him to be nothing more than the incarnation of Demise's hatred once he gets his Secret Stone. I like the idea of Calamity Ganon being his lingering resentment or something like that, but when it comes to Ganondorf the man I expect something more. I would have loved a deeper exploration of his character with some nuance and maybe bits of his past. It had been 17 years since TP, we missed him! Now I'm not even sure we'll ever see him again and all we got was "I want to conquer" and then "I want to destroy", just because he's evil. And his little speeches about peace-loving cowards and how the world should be shrouded in darkness really didn't impress me. Sorry if this sounds harsh, I'm just so disappointed.

I agree about some of the tech, I actually really like the wings and the flame/laser throwers. I found the Mesoamerican influence interesting for the Zonai, but I think it doesn't fit the Hylians ^^

I would have disliked the Zonai a lot less if everything wasn't about them, sure. I think I would have been really happy with them being a new race populating the Depths for example, and that's kind of what I'm doing in my rewrite where I think they'll just be evolved Mogma. TotK would be a very different game without the Zonai/Rauru playing a major role though.

The thing with the "Zonai" from BotW is that this all gets very confusing. According to BotW/Creating a Champion they were a civilization mainly based in Faron Woods that worshiped a water dragon (which either means Naydra, Faron from SS or simply the river Dracos). Their statues also heavily imply that they worshiped the three aspects of the Triforce, represented by an owl (wisdom), a boar (power) and a dragon (courage). To me that sounds more like the ancestors of the Hylian themselves. And interestingly Faron in SS is associated with both water and courage (even though I don't like it haha), so the "water dragon" might really be a reference to SS. Many fans also assumed that the barbarian armor set was linked to the Zonai because its description mentioned "a warlike tribe from Faron".

Then according to TotK, the Zonai are from the sky (though they also mined the Depths), they are not a barbarian tribe but a technologically advanced race close to the gods, and one of them even was the first king of Hyrule. Also they are not shown to live in Faron Woods, and their clothing/armor looks nothing like the barbarian set. So either the Zonai had a weird barbarian phase at some point (I wouldn't expect that from sky beings but alright), either people at Nintendo simply changed their mind and retconned the Zonai from BotW.

I also don't really like the idea of Hylian-Zonai hybrids, I don't want to imagine how that works 😆 (sorry). But even if the Zonai from BotW were hybrids, the barbarian/savage/warlike part doesn't really make sense. I also can't imagine the Hero being anything but a Hylian and anyone but Link (same for Zelda), and at least if Nintendo was going to drop this Ancient Hero thing I think we were owed some sort of explanation ^^

Oh yes the gotcha machines and disposable technology were terrible, 100 % agree!

Your explanation about the Triforce vs. the Secret Stone wasn't confusing, I understand what you meant! Though I think the nature of Demon King Ganondorf is similar to that of Demise in TotK, so I still find it hard to believe that a Secret Stone would allow him to do something Demise could not (aka easily break the Master Sword). But maybe there's also a possibility that the Sword lost some of its power along the way, who knows. I also think Ganondorf has been able to corrupt the Triforce of Power before, to me that's what happens when he transforms into Ganon (he gets so drunk on power and resentment that he turns into a mindless beast that looks a lot like Calamity Ganon, and that's why Link needs the Master Sword). But I don't know, that's definitely interesting to think about!

I love Minish Cap too, it was one of my first Zelda games as well! In fact I was just replaying it last month. BotW's map definitely references locations from MC, but there are also places like Koholit Rock or Brynna Plain so it might just be more easter eggs. I'll try to see how it can work with my version of Hyrule ^^ Though my main problem with MC is more it's story. I can see perfectly how OoT follows SS, but when I try to fit MC between the two things start getting a bit clunky.

You know I don't get to discuss Zelda lore and timeline stuff in depth IRL, so this is really entertaining for me. I don't mind when you go on tangents, quite the contrary! I just hope this isn't too much scrolling 😆

Hi, sorry if this is a bit rude. 😅 I guess that I was just wondering. How would Jabul Waters, Zora Cove, & Crossflows Plaza be named in French?

I'm trying to give Jabul Waters an interesting name that works to go with my hc & I came up with "Jabuleaux." And Google Translate tells me that Crossflows Plaza would be Place des Flux Croisés. And, I'm seeing that Anse is the term to refer to a cove &, if that's true, then would Zora Cove be Zoranse? At the same time, somewhere else, it said that Anse actually means beach.

And, I believe that a town by a swamp would have cher, quier, bren, brin, or Hor- in it?

I'm sorry if this is weird... 😅

Hi! Don't worry it's not rude or weird at all! I offered to help and I'm happy to do so :D

Did you check the official French translations? I had a surprisingly hard time finding the French version of the map online so here's a screenshot I took myself:

Jabul Waters = Eaux de Jabule (this one only appears when I zoom out)

Zora Cove = Baie Zora

Crossflows Plaza = Place de l'Estuaire

In case you didn't know the Zelda Wiki often lists names for places or characters in various languages in the "Nomenclature" section of its pages. It's very helpful especially if you're searching for the original Japanese names. If we look at at the different names for Crossflows Plaza we can see that a literal translation from Japanese would be something like "Exchanging Place". I checked the Jisho dictionary and it seems to be an accurate translation, though "Place for Cultural Exchanges" would be more meaningful.

It's not exactly a good name in English so it makes sense that the localization team would come up with something like Crossflows Plaza instead, which in my opinion does a very good job of stating that this is both the place where the river meets the sea and where the two Zora tribes traditionally meet each other.

Other European languages all settled for variations of "Estuary Plaza" ("Place de l'Estuaire" in French), which is fine but looses the "cultural exchanges" aspect of both the original name and the English translation.

I've been trying to come up with a French translation of "Crossflows Plaza" but it's not that easy. To me "Place des Flots Croisés" or "Place Flots-Croisés" would sound better than "Place des Flux Croisés", but I still find it a bit weird ("flot" meaning flow, tide or stream). "La Croisée des Flots" is another option if you agree to get rid of Plaza/Place (it means "the intersection/junction of streams"), but I don't think it works very well as a name.

You could also mix words to create a name the same way it was done in English, something like "Place Croiseaux" (croiser/cross + eau/waters). If any of my French speaking followers is feeling inspired, please share your ideas! :)

(I just thought of "Place Cruciflot" and found it too funny not to mention 😆 maybe it sounds too much like crucifix)

In French we also have the word "confluence" that has the exact same meaning as it does in English: either the meeting of two rivers or a gathering of some kind. So to me the most obvious translation would be something like "Place des Confluences" or maybe "Place Confluence", as it would preserve the dual meaning, but it's not very fancy or creative. Maybe we could simply change the spelling to something like Place Konfluans, the same way "Village Côtier" (Seaside Village) is spelled "Village Kothié" (Seesyde Village). But it doesn't look like a French word anymore so I'm not sure that's something you'd like.

As for Jabuleaux, it can work but I prefer the official translation "Eaux de Jabule". Same thing for Zoranse, we would say "Anse Zora" or "Anse des Zora". The official French translation is "Baie Zora" (Zora Bay), which I think is more appropriate given the size of the sea inlet (in my understanding an anse/cove is a small baie/bay and isn't very deep). I think maybe it should have been bay in English as well instead of cove, but I might be wrong! Also I believe "anse" isn't used as often as "baie" and might be confusing for most people, so I would go with "Baie Zora".

I'm not sure where you found this information about swamps and town names? I didn't find anything to confirm it but I might not have looked in the right places.

French towns are often ancient and their names can derive from other languages such as Celtic, Occitan, Flemish, or regional dialects, so that's a very difficult question and I'm not sure I can give you a satisfying answer ^^

I still did a little search and found an Old French word for swamp, "palud" or "palu", that still appears in some town names such as La Palud-sur-Verdon, Saint-Pierre-la-Palud, Lapalud, etc. (today we say "marais" or "marécage"). You might be right about "bren", it could be something like muddy in Gallic.

There's also "vign" or "mign" (from Celtic), as in Mignéville or Lévignac, or l'Île de Migneaux on the Seine river (this one's in my city!).

Near where I grew up is a town named Hazebrouck, it literally means "hare swamp" (brouck/broek = swamp in Flemish). For a bit more French flavor you could maybe use -broucq or -breucq instead of -brouck.

I think the vast majority of French people have no clue about all of that (I didn't except for the last one and it's more Flemish than French), so I'd say don't oversweat it ;)

And that's all! I hope you'll find this helpful ^^

[stat-strikes-back]

there is nothing quite like the feeling i just got of seeing an incredibly specific youtube video about a topic that relates to a character concept i’ve been turning around in my head for a while and not only learning a lot, but seeing how accidentally spot on i was in a lot of ways!

[moeblob]

@crazify linked me in a "spell your URL out with songs" post and I was like hmmmm probably not. I'm pretty shy with my music tastes. Then I did this anyway and not only picked song titles but also the specific OC from OIFIL that I would associate it with.

Yes, B is just the same song. I didn't really have many B titles that could fit Rick..... so I just slam dunked him like a leech onto Karen's B song. It actually still works for him so its fine.