#this scene makes me want to scream for a thousand years

[ahmadwaleed55]

This Is What’s Happening in Gaza

In the emergency room of Al-Shifa Hospital…

The Massacre…

By Dr. Ahmad Wael Qandil

The chaos was suffocating. Screams echoed from every corner. Bleeding bodies. Souls clinging to life. The scene looked more like a battlefield than a hospital.

We ran without pause, trying to bring back life to those whose hearts still held a beat.

As I moved between the wounded, my eyes fell on a small body lying motionless. A child—no more than ten years old.

His neck was drenched in blood, and his face pale, like life was slowly leaving him.

I rushed to him, dropped to my knees, and pressed on the wound to stop the bleeding.

He looked at me with wide eyes, filled with tears and pain…

But what he said next froze my soul.

He whispered, barely audible:

"Doctor… please… kill me… I don’t want to live."

I froze. A child, in the bloom of life, asking for death?

What kind of hell must he have lived through to beg for an end?

My soul collapsed before my voice did.

Damn the occupation a thousand times turned a child’s dream of living into a wish for death.

His voice still echoes in my ears… and it always will.

That child was not alone. Thousands of others are going through even worse. And every day, the pain grows deeper, and survival becomes harder. I write these words because my voice is all I have…And here in Gaza, we don’t have the luxury of waiting.

Ways you can help

Support my family directly through our GoFundMe campaign

Share this story: Every repost helps raise awareness.

Speak up: Be a voice for the children of Gaza.

Your support means everything.

With your help, we can buy food, water, medicine, and survive another day.

Please—don’t scroll past our pain.

Stand with us. Support our survival.

Vetted ! ! !

(#167 on the verified fundraiser list by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi) (but we had to make a new gfm campaign cuz our old organizer stopped contacting us).

# dlxxv-vetted-donations

[okaydyke]

Halt and Catch Fire: The 214s

[ok-illsignup]

THIS IS SO GOOD! Oh my goodness, your writing is pure poetry, pure gold!! I love how you used the concept of soulmates and made it unique - your characterizations are great <3

the sweetest

summary: when someone told you that being in love doesn’t necessarily mean loving, you couldn’t believe the absurdity of that statement. as life went on, the truth of those words would continue to weight heavily over your head.

cw: fem!reader, both mydei and reader are equally disturbed individuals, toxic relationships, codependency, angst, hurt with the littlest of comfort, soulties/soulmates au || wc: 10k

the food on your plate seemed especially unappealing today. on the other hand, was it ever? perhaps when you first stepped into Okhema, completely enamored by the culture. yes, you could remember it clearly - the way it would melt on your tongue, flavors mixing with fresh air you’d breathe in everyday on the high balcony. meat and fruits, expensive wine you spent way too much money on. you’d chuckle to yourself as you dipped the slices of cheese in honey, thinking about how lucky you were to reside in the holy city. the state of unawareness you possessed only made everything more blissful.

right now the dinner was nothing but dry - with the first bite, you genuinely thought you would choke. it tasted the same way his name felt on your lips. Mydeimos. the man that decided to test your patience, will and mental strength everyday. you didn’t like the thought, but did he bring anything other than misery into your life? at first you didn’t want to perceive the relationship you both shared as something inherently bad — as time went on, it turned out near impossible. venom seemed to be laced through his words, and you knew that it seeped from your mouth too. sometimes you liked to imagine him as the wrong one - however, with the way things stood, you were equal in your spite. you could stop the chain of events and run somewhere else, to another city. looking back, it was the best option you had, and yet still declined to take. rope bound your hands to his, and you would tug on it relentlessly. in the back of your mind, the image of Mydei finally stumbling over, and letting go replayed constantly. but if it ever came to that, would you be satisfied? happy?

the answer was simple, but dreadful all the same - no.

as you took another bite of your meal, the image of your late mother flashed. perhaps she was the root of all your suffering? the damned prophecy she revealed to you when you were younger, of a boy with golden hair dipped in blood, who one day would bask in glory.

"you see, my dear [name], all of humanity has their other half, hidden somewhere. not everyone is destined to meet them, but you will. i’m sure of that."

(the way she smiled at you with so much glee in her eyes was disgusting).

"but mom, how do you know?"

(you wish you never asked this question).

"i have my ways," she chuckled, swiping the mischievous hair behind your ear, "see that mark on your wrist? look for someone with the same one. it means you both are meant to be."

you glanced at the singular line that stretched from the knuckles up to your wrist, and thought it looked more like a scar than anything else. you have seen other people with similar marks - but they were always more intricate. veins of ivy embedding an arm, or stars splattered in a specific pattern. yours wasn’t like that.

"ugh… that will be so hard to spot on someone! do you at least know how that person looks?"

the woman seemed to take a second of contemplation. "well, it was revealed to me in a vague way. but i can tell you, if you want to."

"yes, please!" you giggled as you jumped up all thrilled, tugging at the long sleeve of her dress. to your younger self, there was nothing more exciting than finally meeting the person you were 'tied' to. your soulmate.

"alright then,” your mother nodded, giving your head an affectionate ruffle, "his hair is blonde. it’s a very beautiful color, mixed with red. those eyes… striking to the bone. a born leader, i’m sure."

at that, you hummed in deep acknowledgment as you tried to imagine the boy. for some reason, nothing concrete came to you. still, it wasn’t like you were unsatisfied - maybe you had a different picture in mind, but that person was destined to you nevertheless! as you kept on brooding, one of your friends suddenly called out to you. immediately distracted, you followed after the beckoning girl to play in the fields.

how you wished it ended at that. your past self forgot, and kept on frolicking in the lush meadows with your old friends forever. your mother never passed, and you pursued your physician studies at home. the soulmate you dreamt of meeting got left behind as nothing but a mere, blurry visualization. but here you were, sitting in one of the apartments of Okhema, locked up in your room. Mydei was probably attending to some important stuff, or bickering with Phainon, like he always did. maybe they were sparring? from the sound of clashing swords outside, it was likely.

you sighed, digging the knife into the piece of meat with more force than necessary. the momentary guilt you felt from blaming your mother for the situation you created with your own hands shook you a bit. how could you? she never meant any harm. nor did you, but things turned out as they did, and who else was there to blame?

perhaps the winds that took you to the holy city.

it was unbearably hot that day. sweat covered your temples as you tried cooling down your face with a makeshift fan (which worked poorly). still, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of excitement wash over you as you took the views in. streets bustling with life, merchants yelling over each other, people laughing somewhere, and children running to their heart’s contents. the general atmosphere successfully pushed the discomfort to the back of your mind. it was only your sixth day in Okhema, yet you were already feeling as if it was the place you belonged to.

your peaceful stroll quickly came to a halt when you saw an awfully familiar silhouette standing not so far away. you didn’t know the man - it was not possible, as it was your first time seeing him. however, something about him seemed… unsettlingly different. you could recognize the blonde-red hair, so rare and distinct. you felt your heart jump - both from fear and elation, a mixture that caused you to freeze. you blinked twice, then rubbed your eyes, but the man was still there, talking to someone.

you clenched your fists as you remembered the words of your clairvoyant mother. meeting your soulmate wasn’t the objective of life you led so far, but the thought of having someone important was still dear to your heart. with new-found resolve, you took a few steps forward, wondering how you could strike up the conversation. first impression was always the most important, after all. the image of coming up to a stranger, and waving your mark before his eyes was ridiculous. what if it wasn’t him, after all? now that would’ve been awkward.

you approached the blonde, gently patting his arm.

"excuse me, sir, how do i get to the baths?" you could never go wrong with a classic. of course, you knew the way to the baths, but playing oblivious was your best option.

when he turned to face you, you felt your blood pressure rise once more. two golden hues met with yours, and at that moment, you knew your mother was right. striking. it was the only word you could use to describe them. fierce eyes filled with something your mind couldn’t quite comprehend. your gaze flickered over all of his body in search of a soulmate mark, yet you were unable to spot it. stress squeezed your guts. where was it? under his clothes? if so, then you had no real way of confirming if he was the one.

as he opened his mouth to answer you, his vision seemed to suddenly lock onto something else - your right hand. recognition seeped onto his face, and you felt brief relief before the man’s expression twisted. something was wrong. why wasn’t he happy? you were, at least that’s what you thought a few seconds ago. joy quickly morphed into an ugly feeling of distress, sitting firmly at the bottom of your stomach.

"is… is there something wrong?" you asked, furrowing your brows as the relentless sun beamed straight onto your nape. it seemed as if the heat only made the situation worse.

"i know you asked for directions, but i’d like to have a talk with you. in private." he glanced at the other man who was still standing there, "then, i can lead you to the bathhouse."

the slightly harsh tone of his voice made you wince, but you nodded, knowing that refusal wasn’t a choice you could afford to make here. the blonde excused himself, telling you to follow him somewhere secluded. you did, even though something deep within your mind was screaming at you to turn on your heel and run. at that time, you didn’t recognize it as anything other than nervousness. at least now you were aware your gut feeling was right. back then, if you decided to dismiss the man, would it all turn out differently? it is common knowledge - you meet your soulmate once, and the universe will make sure for you to never truly part ways. at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. you could have sprinted with all your might, but you’d still cross paths nevertheless. be it in a few months, maybe on your deathbed. there was no telling.

to be honest, it was much more of a complex problem. you could continue to blame all of your choices, thinking of ways you should have avoided it. the domino effect began long time ago, when your mother first got sick, and soon the delightful life you once had crumbled over your own head. all of your struggles lacked in any meaning, and the house of cards you meticulously crafted for all those years got swiped by a strong gust of wind. grief-stricken people seek resolve, and the only way of keeping your mind from the tragedy was to change your environment.

image of the man’s back as you trailed after him like some kind of a ghost was still vivid. something between his shoulder blades, located around his thoracic vertebrae caught your attention. it wasn’t easy to tell, but there it was. slightly obscured by his clothes, a singular line. that really was him. surely, the moment of meeting your soulmate didn’t go as planned, but perhaps he was more… sensitive than you? your fantasies of jumping into each other’s arms got successfully dimmed by his rather odd reaction, yet you couldn’t blame him. after all, it was so sudden, so unexpected. obviously he’ll eventually warm up to you.

after walking into an alleyway, you finally stopped, almost bumping into his back. fortunately, it was much darker and cooler here, and he couldn’t see the sweat beading on your forehead. the blonde turned to face you, his expression unreadable. it wasn’t angry, nor sad, but rather cautious in a certain way.

"show me your hand.” he demanded, stretching out his palm towards you. the man was straightforward, that’s for sure. usually you’d have no problem with it, except this time it actually irked you.

"you won’t even introduce yourself?" you cocked your eyebrow, gazing up at him with a bold look. his piercing gaze made you feel as if he wanted to fix you into place, just like people do with dragonflies. securing them with pins and needles, their lifeless forms never to move again.

you managed to spot the twitch of his eye. “Mydeimos." he huffed, lips stretching into a thin line, as if he was barely stopping himself from adding unnecessary comments.

"[name]." you replied shortly, placing your hand atop his. resisting made no sense, even though you wished to spite the impossibly impatient man.

is it really your soulmate if your first thought is to make his life harder? are you truly meant to be when instead of feeling giddy and excited, you’re starting to become irritated?

a clipped breath of disbelief escaped Mydei’s lungs, his grip on your hand strengthening just for a second before he let go. "why do you look so calm? do you not have any oppositions towards a stranger dragging you off, and then showing him your mark?”

that was a fair question. you definitely were acting as if the course of action was natural, even though it wasn’t.

"my mother, she—" you began, thinking of the simplest way you could explain it to him, "when i was younger, she had a prophetic vision. specifically speaking, of my soulmate. she managed to describe you to me, and the image stuck." a heavy sigh slipped from your mouth as you got met with silence, urging you to continue. "well, of course i wasn’t sure if it was you, but once i saw your back…"

you trailed off, wondering what caused Mydei to be so deeply submerged in his thoughts. all the time he kept quiet, looking between you and your wrist, as if contemplating something.

"a-are you not happy?" you managed to force out, dreading the response he would offer. slowly, the hopes of a better life with someone by your side started to fall apart.

you should have stayed in your hometown. why didn’t you?

(grief-stricken people seek resolve).

why do they seek resolve?

(because they have nothing—)

"no." Mydei’s curt answer cut through the air, making you jump. "i’ve no time for soulmates, or any other type of romance." he scoffed, "hmph, to think that a person would willingly put themselves through such trouble simply because of a mark on their skin."

you watched the man cross his arms over his chest, your eyebrows narrowing together. "then why didn’t you ignore me earlier? if soulmates really hold no significance to you, why’d you confirm we are tied?" you almost barked out, feeling the heat crawl back on your skin. oh no, you wouldn’t let it go simply because your soulmate is apparently also a coward.

"listen, i understand why you’re upset. my mind won’t change, though." the man’s tone got a bit darker, as if owning you at least an explanation was already too demanding. "i just wanted to set things straight with you. it is more than probable we’ll… stumble upon each other some more."

"so you don’t want me to get my hopes up, is that it?" you barely contained your anger, Mydei’s indifference only adding to the fire in your chest.

"exactly. now, do you still want me to show you the way to the baths? or was that just an excuse in order to talk to me?"

your fists clenched by your sides, and the thought of slapping him across the face appeared in your mind. fortunately (or perhaps not), you were above that.

"bastard." you hissed through your teeth, rapidly turning on your heel and walking away. damn him and that stupid stubbornness, and his hair, and eyes, and— and everything! not only did your 'soulmate' humiliate you, he seemed so stoic about the whole situation in contrast to your boiling blood — as if he didn’t care at all! and the bitter truth was, he most likely didn’t. why did your mother insist that you find him? her passing already took an unfathomable toll on you, and now her absurd death-bed wishes continued to only further your misery.

''once i’m gone, you’ll be left on your own'' she’d say, her voice trembling with fatigue, ‘'you’ll need someone to take care of you. to stand by your side, and protect from the world’s harm.'’

couldn’t you protect yourself? did she really think so lowly of you?

'’he will treat you well. i’m sure of it."

(liar).

you closed your eyes, traversing the streets at a fast pace. tears welled up behind your eyelids, and you knew it wasn’t because of how Mydeimos rejected you, but rather at the memory of your frail mom. the unwavering love still filling her gaze as coughs shook her body, careworn words urging you to find a better life. perhaps you weren’t doing it for yourself, but rather for her - for that ghostly vision of her face.

you seldom fought for anything, however now it seemed that a new resolve sparked within you. you won’t stick by your soulmate’s side, but you’ll strive. depending on anybody was no good, and that much was clear to you.

the memory of that fateful day made you cringe as you attempted to convince yourself the vegetables you were currently chewing on weren’t exactly awful in taste. they were, but you still continued to eat. wasting food wasn’t something you usually did, even if it was disgustingly bland.

three years passed since then, but all those events were still clear as a day in your mind. you remember swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t even look at Mydei’s face — turns out, Phainon found out about the correlation between you. it was long before you and Mydei started to jump at each other’s necks, so you were sure the man harbored no harm when he came up with that wicked plan of his. for whatever reason, he thought that playing a matchmaker was his call, and by some means he found out about your qualifications for a physician. the energy that emanated through your body, which took you years to master into a healing form would soon be used for a ‘greater good'.

Chrysos Heirs never exactly lacked in medical care, yet now you were hired as their personal nurse. by that, you also found out Mydei was apparently the crown prince of Kremnos. it wasn’t like you were unaware of his high status in society, but the sheer importance he carried took you by surprise. with that, something else was revealed — he couldn’t die. he was a warrior, and his body lacked in any kind of scarring. when you first heard it, you were almost relieved, as it obviously meant he wasn’t in the need of a physician.

turns out your hopeful thinking was for nothing, as your current position was only meant to get you both closer. you could as well be polishing the baths, and it wouldn’t make any difference.

it began out slow, and you don’t remember which one of you started it. you would regularly see Mydei, and share just a mere glance of acknowledgment. sometimes he’d scoff under his nose, then again you’d make a brief remark about his attitude. those small interactions were nothing but a dragged out prelude to the events that future held for you. a testament of sorts, building the fundaments of your downfall. snarky comments couldn’t sate neither of you, and soon you’d begin to argue on daily basis. soulmates are further cemented by interaction - which you were aware of, yet couldn’t stop digging your own grave. every time you talked to Mydei, you knew the mud around your ankles got denser, and soon you’d be stuck. he would be as well - at least you weren’t the only one at disadvantage here. constant fighting was draining, even for the mighty prince, and that thought never failed to make you chuckle grimly under your breath.

others took notice of the scenes you both would cause. sometimes they would end long before escalation, but more often than not Mydei was faced with flying ceramics, and you with a logorrhea of curses and damnations. the worst part is that it didn’t only affect you, but others too. even though you both had enough decorum to stop yourself from fighting in front of civilians, Aglaea would often point out how anxious Tribbie got, careworn by your constant barking and scowling. Phainon has shown genuine concern too, going as far as to scolding Mydei. needless to say, he was always getting dismissed by a wave of the uninterested man. as how things were unfolding, you had thought many times of leaving the Okhema. however, wouldn’t that equal you admitting defeat? in your soulmate’s eyes, your picture would be reduced to a cowardly nobody. for some reason, it would sting way more than his words.

"everytime you open your mouth, i am physically resisting the urge to push you off a cliff!" you seethed, shutting the cutlery drawer with an unnecessary amount of force. the knives and forks clattered inside loudly, filling the communal kitchen with an unpleasant noise.

"what makes you think you could?" Mydei snapped back, perhaps hoping to intimidate you. in answer, you cocked your head to the side, granting him with an unaffected look.

"just a guess, but you’re not very likable, are you?" you swiftly changed the topic, knowing that pushing him off a cliff was certainly impossible, and you had no arguments to back up your homicidal idea. "even your own people seem to—"

his eyebrows narrowed dangerously, clear indication you were walking on thin ice. "you’re not exactly popular around here, either." he interrupted, "you’re just a nurse, gods know from where—"

"just a nurse?!"

"—and nobody seems to take you seriously-"

"you’re foolish if you think i care about the opinion of other’s, especially yours!"

"well, maybe you should start to, because—"

"you think yourself mighty, huh? not everyone’s gonna be—"

"—i have a very good advice! pack your things, get out of Okhema, and as far—"

"—kissing your feet and worshipping the ground you walk on! unlike most people, i—"

"—as i am concerned, no one would miss you!"

"—actually have eyes and i’m capable of recognizing a cowardly bastard!"

you both kept screaming over each other, interrupting, and snarling as the packet of sugar between your fingers seemed close to ripping in half from the amount of tugging it faced. it was a conflict you could easily resolve, yet you seemed to ignore the fact. why share the sugar when you could fight for it instead?

every single one of your days in the holy city looked like that, filled with the sound of biting teeth and roars of anger. if you avoided the clashes, Mydei wouldn’t perceive you as someone worthy of recognition (and you needed to be, you had to make his life harder for the way he was treating you). if you ran, he’d laugh about it with others, saying how easy to scare off you were.

you could try to justify the reasons why you stayed, but at the end of the day, one answer resonated profoundly in the back of your mind — you wanted to prove it didn’t hurt.

"hey, would you two—"

"what?!" you yelled in unison, your necks snapping towards the innocent Phainon who stood in the doorframe of the kitchen, a bit shocked. you didn’t even notice when the sugar package torn in half, its contents pouring all over the floor.

"…keep it down." he finished with utter disappointment, his weary eyes taking in the mess you both made. "look, now because of your petty arguments the sugar is wasted."

Mydei measured you with his fierce gaze, and you did the same. the air got heavy with tension once more as you stared at each other with murderous intent, mulling over whichever insults would be the best this time. Phainon gripped the bridge of his nose with silent resignation, knowing the unavoidable screaming match was going to erupt once more.

"you clean it up!" you bursted out, pointing towards the sugar-covered tiles.

"no, you clean it up, you imbeci—!"

"why would i? i wanted the sugar first, and you started to—"

"what?! no, i put my hands on it first!"

"gods, you’re insufferable! that’s not how it—"

Phainon shook his head, closing the kitchen door with a loud thud. you paid no mind to him, way too occupied by your quarrel. even from the halls, he could still hear the distant shouting, and began to wonder how long it’ll take before someone loses their mind.

the arguments you shared varied on the scale of severity. one time they were closer to a bicker, and everyone was grateful that at least you didn’t want to kill each other. a few hours later the clamor was back on, and wouldn’t stop until you both got fed up. it mattered little whether the cause of your argument was serious, or no — you’d still put your everything into those screams. if someone told you that everyday you’d be having an altercation with the crown prince of Kremnos — be it about who gets the last sugar packet, or who is more of a pathetic-foolish-wrongdoer — you wouldn’t believe them.

it is said that soulties can make you feel emotions tenfold. sorrow, anger, joy, love. it only applied towards one’s soulmate, but could be destructive nonetheless. it can either make you more infatuated, or cause you to regret ever meeting them. you surely identified with the latter.

exactly one year passed before your relationship with Mydeimos took… a slightly off-track route.

it was pretty obvious that you and him were at your wits ends, and bearing any more of that would lead you both astray. each day, you prayed to whoever was willing to listen, begging for this nightmarish charade to finally end. countless days spent on either bawling your eyes out, or tearing your throat as you screamed in frustration were making you more than exhausted. wicked satisfaction coming from making Mydei’s existence harder was meek, and the constant headaches drove you up the wall. you felt trapped — perhaps you truly were. dark shadows hanging low under the man’s eyes were a clear indication he felt the same. still, no matter how much you tried to stay separated, the nature of soulmates was unavoidable. a bond, no matter how dire, once created wouldn’t be able to break. it could only progress further, and when you realized that you were practically attached by the hip, your heart sank low. did you really have no way of breaking free in this dystopian world? nowadays, even your own thoughts seemed to betray you. whenever you crossed the line with Mydei and said too much, guilt would follow you around like a stray dog. a dog from what? the nether, most likely. a vicious, snarling hound, gnawing at your bones, only to lick the marrow with apology in its bottomless eyes.

a tug of war. that’s the best way you could describe it.

as always, the sun hung high on the horizon, and even though you liked to think of yourself as accustomed to the holy city’s climate, it still took a toll on you. you decided to open the window, hoping the fresh breeze would make you feel better. it did, even if just a little. you sighed in relief, smiling to yourself as you watched children playing outside of your surgery’s window. they seemed so carefree, falling and instantly getting up, unable to pay any attention to their scraped knees as the whirl of fun distracted them from pain. this sight brought distant memories, buried somewhere deep within your mind. once, you were like them too — running around the fields, covered in dirt and grass until your mother would finally drag you home, and lecture how dangerous it was to stray so far away. when was the last time you thought about that? life in the holy city stripped you away from all that was once dear. never ending conflicts and problems piling upon one another, forcing you to push back any comfort left.

you prayed that those children would never have to bear such burdens, even though it was nigh impossible to avoid.

as you continued to brood, someone opened the door. your head snapped towards the direction of the sound, immediately recognizing the silhouette. your brows furrowed as you tore yourself off from the windowsill, stepping a bit closer to the man. it was an extremely rare occurrence — him visiting you out of his own volition, that is. you sent him a cautious look, feeling a tinge of anxiety rise up in your gut. you were having such a good day, and now he probably came to ruin it, likely out of boredom. you already opened your mouth to chase him away, but before you could say anything his voice resonated through the room.

"what?" Mydei asked, as if your expression offended him, "can’t i visit our physician?" the man’s words were phrased like one of his usual sarcastic remarks, making your brow twitch.

your frown deepened slightly as you continued to study him with intent eyes. something was obviously off. "well, why’re you here then?"

at that, Mydei paused. his gaze jumped around the room, and he appeared a bit conflicted. it was unlike him to be caught off guard like that, but he came to you - obviously he had a goal in mind, yet now he refused to voice his thoughts. perhaps his pride didn’t allow him to. if it was anybody else you’d be already on the case, sitting them down and coercing into admitting their troubles. however, this was Mydei, and you were adamant about helping him. you stood there, tapping your foot as you scrutinized him, waiting for the man to finally say something.

before your patience managed to reach its limit, his voice once again tore through the silence. "i want you to cast healing energy on me."

you barely stopped your burst of laughter caused by the absurdity of his demand. seriously, come again? he seemed completely fine, standing straight and still managing to get on your nerves. if it wasn’t the picture of health, then you definitely didn’t know what it was. anyway, since when did he experience any kind of pains? Mydei was able to take blows effortlessly and live through fatal wounds, and now he was asking you to waste your time on him. was it to ridicule you?

"you’re joking, right?" you put your hands on your hips, restraining yourself from making any unnecessary comments. for whatever reason, you didn’t feel like fighting today. truthfully, you never did.

"is it really so unbelievable to you, [name]?" the man scoffed, taking few long strides towards the medical bed, "and you dare call yourself a physician." he taunted, a crooked smirk stretching his lips.

Mydei sat heavily, making the bed creak dangerously under the sudden pressure - you winced, hoping it wouldn’t break. you could feel your blood pressure rising, but you clenched your teeth in order to keep any remarks behind them. no, you won’t allow him to get a rise out of you. not today.

"alright, let’s assume something is genuinely wrong with you. what is it?"

another prolonged pause. the only sound filling the space was distant laughter and ticking of the clock hanging on one of the walls. it was arguably worse than listening to Aglaea’s scoldings.

"must you always ask such stupid questions? get to work, or i’ll make sure you bid goodbye to your little workplace tomorrow morning." after a while of contemplation Mydei snarled, visibly annoyed by your questions. it’s something he often did - threaten you. he rarely pulled off any of his promises, but they still made your mind stir with anxieties. if you could, you’d take a basin filled with water and forcibly dip his head inside until he finally lost consciousness. an unrealistic vision it was, because before you’d manage to get a handful of his golden locks, he would have already knocked the water out of your hands and laughed at your poor attempts.

why did you keep putting up with him, even though you were fed up beyond reason?

(grief-stricken people seek resolve).

"at least i wouldn’t need to look at your face everyday," you snapped back, closing the distance between you two, "tell me what’s bothering you, or i won’t cast anything."

it’s not like you cared — you genuinely didn’t, but you wouldn’t be effective unless you knew where the problem was rooted. spreading energy through the whole body was always pretty demanding, so you’d rather focus on one specific spot. you waited for Mydei’s response, but upon receiving none, you sighed with defeat. you throughly washed your hands with soap (something unpleasant crawled up your spine as you felt his eyes fixated on you the whole time), and stepped behind the bed. the sooner he leaves, the better.

you usually announced whenever you started to cast your energy, as the feeling at first was often akin to a slight shock. this time however, you firmly put your hands on his back and surged all of it at once, wanting to capture his jolty reaction. unsurprisingly, Mydei didn’t do anything other than gaze at the floor tiles with a bored look. how come things never turned out the way you wanted? with a little more fervor, you moved your hands towards the nape of his neck. your fingers twitched as you imagined curling them around his throat, cutting out the oxygen — but soon you turned down the vision. you weren’t always like this - this aggressive, and violent. what were you even thinking? Mydei was the bane of your existence, but it’s not like he deserved to suffer.

(or maybe he did?)

your brows narrowed together as you forced the intrusive thoughts out of your mind space. you were a medic, damn it—

"are you doing this on purpose, or what?" he murmured, slightly turning his face to look at you from the corner of his eye. you blinked twice, not understanding what he was referring to. "i mean breathing so hard on my neck. stop it."

you almost retracted your hands, suddenly feeling a mixture of embarrassment and ire. you didn’t even realize that your breaths got so labored, and much to your chagrin, you had no witty response to offer. with a heavy heart, you continued to move your palms around the man’s back, trying to find out yourself where his pains were located. finally, when you stopped around the shoulder blades, Mydei’s muscles seemed to relax at last, even if just a little bit.

"does it hurt here?" you asked absentmindedly, focusing on the flow of energy escaping your fingers.

being so gentle with someone who would never do the same to you felt almost disgusting. but you weren’t wicked at heart, and it was your job to put people at ease instead of furthering their misery. your mother would never approve of causing harm, no matter if the patient was especially awful.

Mydei nodded in response, his back hunching. you took that as a 'yes', continuing to heal. after about three minutes you were done, and the man got up from his seat, stretching his limbs as if he just woke up from a long slumber. you worked your expression into something more unpleasant, worried that if he saw the softened look on your face he might mock you for it.

"we’re done now, so get out of my face." you announced bluntly, the tone of your voice turning harsher than before.

he didn’t even spare you a glance as he walked towards the exit. "i don’t feel any difference. you’re awful at this, [name]." Mydei answered, shutting the door with a loud 'thud!'.

you stood there for a longer while, contemplating whether you should run after the man and choke him like you wanted to earlier. you ultimately abandoned that idea, instead sitting back into the chair and cradling your head with your hands. you hated Mydei. not because he was horrible, but rather because you still were somehow able of being delicate with him. why? how was that physically possible? bodies respond to spite with stronger reactions that yours — if your hatred was real, you wouldn’t even let him into your surgery in the first place.

that dreadful thought would haunt you for the next two years, everyday.

normally, you wouldn’t even dare to reminiscence about such things, but the dull taste of cauliflower made you think of equally terrible recollections. during the second year of your stay in Okhema, things took the turn for worse, and the unpleasant sensation on your tongue made all of your memories resurface.

the drastic shift in the air definitely felt like a thunder’s roar, at least in retrospection. soulmates are a complex thing, and even though they play a very significant role in people’s lives, the research on them is surprisingly lacking. alas, one thing is for sure — there is no turning back. the same applied to yours and Mydei’s case, the feelings of odium soon melting into something more conflicted. he was - much to your dismay - occupying your mind all the time. of course you would think of him earlier on, however back then it definitely got out of hand. constant questions plagued your already fatigued brain, forcing you to seek him out. you did nothing but argue, or huff and scoff at each other, but somehow it put you at ease. a certain sense of twisted familiarity. it worked both ways, unfortunately, and whenever you got busy with work, he’d still come bustling through your door. sometimes you’d fight, other times he’d ramble about things that got on his nerves, and you listened. you started to rely on him — apparently the same happened to Mydei, as Phainon often pointed out how agitated he got whenever you got separated for too long.

you never acknowledged the change in your behavior. it came naturally, just like sun peeks from behind the clouds after rain. your stormy relationship didn’t exactly calm down — Phainon still complained about the noise you two would make, and Castorice winced whenever you both appeared in the same room. mayhem followed in your wake, but at least Mydei stopped his constant threats on your person, and you spared the plates you oh-so-loved throwing at his head (even though he always avoided every single one of them).

what didn’t stop however, was the feeling of going crazy. hatred, spite and agitation took the nightmarish shape of obsession. alienation shook your bones whenever you tried forming any other meaningful connections, and your thoughts always sprinted back to the only question in your head: "where is Mydei?".

more often than not, you felt as if you completely lost yourself. the promises you made to your own self — to run far away from that man, never looking back — it all seemed so distant now. two years of mental exhaustion made your perception crooked, and everything seemed wrong. sometimes you’d wake up and look around, feeling as if someone moved the furniture in your surgery. it wasn’t rearranged, no, but the placement was off by a few inches. the same feeling of unease would creep up on you whenever you thought about how cruelly you betrayed yourself.

Mydeimos was important to you. coming to terms with that fact was hard, and the unfathomable hurt of it was almost comparable to when you cradled your mother’s terrifyingly bony hands in yours. two completely different situations, yet you still felt as if they shared a common ground — your downfall. it will continue to torment you, until your body will finally be lowered in a casket.

the worst part is, you still don’t know whether you genuinely lost your mind, or if the soultie effect caused it.

everything is changing. everything is getting worse. Phainon payed you a visit today, and he was talking about something, yet you couldn’t recall what it was. you gave him some tea — he said it was the best he had in a long time. you wanted to believe him, but the way his lips stretched in unnaturally cordial smile indicated otherwise. you couldn’t blame him though, as the brew was prepared with health-prosperity in mind. you could put a few sugar cubes inside, but it would defeat its original purpose.

the conversation between you and him didn’t stick, and you felt awkward. when you first got into the holy city, Phainon was definitely someone you would call a friend. he secured you a good job and a place to live, and would always try cheering you up. right now, there was an invisible wall separating you both. you could see no way around it.

"so, uhh, [name]," he began after a long pause, putting down the elegant cup back on the table, "Mydei was asking about you. i told him you were busy with work, so that he wouldn’t bother you." Phainon let out an unsure chuckle, carefully observing your expression.

you hummed in acknowledgment, taking a sip of your herbal drink. "good thing you did, else i’d have to put up with that man for gods know how long."

the image of Mydei walking unceremoniously into your surgery, and starting to pick at you made your skin crawl. you’d pick at him too, spewing insults left and right. you’d push him to the limits, watching the man come undone in front of your own eyes before the conversation would turn into a screaming match. then, you’d calm down. he’d stare at the tiles again, counting, and you would fall onto your chair with a resigned sigh. Mydei would eventually apologize, and you’d smile at him. it sounded terrible, no?

(yet you still yearned for it, the equal ruin).

Phainon laughed genuinely now, and you had to admit that happiness looked great on him. as of late, he seemed more worried than usual.

"well, i’m glad you approve of my decisions. you two really don’t get along, do you?" he mused, his gaze now trailing over to the window. perhaps the sights outside were more interesting than your face.

"no, no we don’t." you admitted in a weak voice, even though you didn’t want to sound so unconvinced. what was there to deny? someone once compared you and Mydei to two tigers — you didn’t catch on it until later, when you realized those animals were prone to killing each other in fights to death. that person was on point, much to your chagrin.

when you were unable of adding anything else to your lacking sentence, you thought it would be better for you to spend time with some other people. perhaps then you’d relearn what it means to be a normal, functioning human instead of a husk who only could spew and clash.

"oh, look at the time [name]!" Phainon suddenly called out, getting up a little bit too fast from his seat. "Aglaea wanted to see with me, and i don’t want to be late." he explained vaguely as you sent him a perplexed look, also standing up.

"a-alright then." you stammered out, taken aback by his rapid reaction. maybe he got bored, and came up with an excuse on the spot. "see you soon?"

"yeah, see you soon." he sent you a slightly nervous smile before walking out of the door. you watched him disappear, the surgery once more filled up with silence. you gazed at his barely touched tea, and decided to pour it out in the sink.

as you were doing that, you heard the distinctive footsteps outside. you didn’t even get the chance to turn around before Mydei walked through the entrance, that ever-present scowl on his face deeper than usual. you carefully placed down the cup, afraid of breaking it. it was your favorite, and you couldn’t afford to lose anything else dear to your heart, even if it was only porcelain.

"so that’s what you were busy with, huh?" the man asked, his tone low as he stepped closer to you. at first you didn’t understand what he meant, but after a second everything clicked. Phainon lied to him on your account, and then managed to spot him through your window. he left in hurry, thinking that Mydei discovering you both would only cause more problems. your heart clenched at his consideration as you observed the man with narrowed eyes.

"are you insinuating something?" you hissed, feeling the tension in the air arise with every second. "who are you to tell me what to do anyway? go find someone else to bully, because i’m really not in the mood for your bullshit."

"no, i’m not insinuating anything," he replied, venom practically dripping from his words, "i simply find it hilarious that you thought you could deceive me like that. do i look stupid to you, [name]?"

you couldn’t help the huff of irritation escaping your lungs as you looked around yourself, almost bewildered. Mydei seldom acted like that — yes, he was an absolute pain, however he has never outwardly shown his disapproval of you meeting with others. you didn’t even like Phainon in a romantic sense, and you never would. to think that this man came to such a conclusion was baffling, especially when you two weren’t even in a relationship.

"deceive you? are you crazy?" you barked out, spreading your arms apart, "you’re acting absurdly, Mydei! do you think i’m your possession, or something? you always seem to talk about how much you despise me, and yet here you are, ordering me around as you see fit!"

"it’s because—" the man paused, as if searching for the best words, long fingers woving through his hair. "you’re driving me mad, [name]! can’t you see? can’t you see what you’ve done?!" he shouted, making you want to take a step back. instead, you boldly rendered the distance between you two.

insanity. the slow descent into pits of human destruction kept dragging him down — perhaps you were much lower than Mydei, gripping his ankles and pulling — or maybe you were above, waving at the man, beckoning him to crawl out. as things were standing now, you were equal in your devastation.

"why are you blaming me?! go blame yourself, you lunatic!" you seethed, grabbing something from the drawer beside you. you paid no attention to the item in your hand, your sight focused solely on Mydei.

why do things between you always have to escalate at such a quick rate? sometimes you felt as if you were treading above an active volcano, where one wrong move could lead to a rapid eruption. you thought of yourself as the victim, and that much was foolish, as you were deeply aware you and him were both lava, and nothing else.

when Mydei failed to snap back in time, you decided to provoke him some more. "what, maybe you’re just jealous? it definitely sounds like that to me." you sneered, but the thought seemed horrifyingly real.

"why would i be jealous of someone like you?" he retaliated, even though the false denial in his expression was obvious, "look at yourself! you think that little cup will do me any harm? you must be really slow of mind." he laughed mockingly at the weapon you gripped in the palm of your hand.

to this day, you still don’t know what pushed you to such extreme. maybe it had something to do with soulties, or you were simply becoming what you’ve always hated. still, the already weakened strings which previously held your sanity together seemed to snap, and no amounts of regret could fix it.

"want to see for yourself?" you didn’t wait for the man’s response, shattering the porcelain across your tiled floor. you immediately bent down to reach for the biggest fragment, cutting yourself in the process, though you cared little for the stinging pain in your fingertips.

possessed by anger that only someone literally tied to your soul could evoke, you surged towards Mydeimos, aiming at his throat. he wouldn’t die, but the few minutes of him coughing up blood and gripping his own slashed neck would be enough to satiate you. you didn’t care that after his recovery, he’d likely kill you. leading such a life carried no sense within anyway.

("you are a medic, my sweet girl. your job is to save people, and make them happy. isn’t that a wonderful vocation? make your mother proud. i’m sure you can”).

Mydei gripped your wrists as you flailed your limbs, struggling against his strength. you kicked at his shin, your foot meeting with the golden metal, and you cursed yourself for forgetting it was there in the first place. a sickening whine of pain ripped from your throat as you realized that even if he unhanded you, letting you do as you please, you still wouldn’t be able to hurt him. after all, how could you?

the force of your efforts made you both stumble down and crash onto the hard floor, littered with sharp pieces of the cup. you felt the breath get knocked out of your chest as you gazed up at the man with wide, terrified eyes. warm blood trickled down your hand, and only then you realized just how deeply you wounded yourself. tears fogged over your vision as dry cries began to jerk your body.

(why do grief-stricken people seek resolve?)

(because they have nothing).

"i’m—" you sobbed, your voice trembling as you looked at Mydei’s equally shaken expression, "i’m so sorry! i’m so very, very sorry!" you wailed, letting go of the porcelain fragment, hearing it clatter on the ground. the man slowly released your wrists from his grasp, still hovering above you.

"stop it, [name]. i went overboard this time. you don’t have to apologize." his voice was uncharacteristically doleful as he observed your face, measuring the amount of tears with downcast eyes.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. you could lie to yourself and pretend like you had genuine friends here, in Okhema— but at the end of the day, Mydei was all you had left. there was no one else. he wasn’t your home, but he was the only one who managed to stomp out the loneliness from your heart. you hated each other to the bone, and yet you still held your bodies on that cold floor, surrounded by nothing but muffled sobbing.

you were not violent. you were kindhearted, and warm, and you never would’ve thought of doing such things, however now all of it seemed repressed somewhere else. Mydei — no, perhaps entirety of the holy city — caused your breath to stop. you wished to view him in repulsion, but for gods’ sake, you knew you could not. once the summer sun will extinguish your being, up until the last cloud of smoke, you’ll be thinking of him. the soulmate mark stretching from your knuckles to wrist hurt. a pulsating kind of pain, reminding you it was still there, and you couldn’t forsake it.

"i’m so sorry…" you choked out, pressing your face into his shoulder.

"don’t be."

"i— i never meant to harm you, i just—"

"i know."

your hands gripped Mydei’s clothes, the blood from your cut already seeping over his previously clean attire and body. he didn’t seem to care, stroking fingers through your hair in attempt of showing any semblance of comfort (could he ever offer it?). you searched for something meaningful to say, but your thoughts narrowed to only one thing.

it was your favorite cup.

you chewed on the piece of meat with a twisted expression, the scar still visible between your fingers and the palm. sometimes it would itch, making it utterly irritating. the sounds of the swords clashing outside seemed to quiet down, now replaced by idle chatter. you were almost finished with your meal, and the time on the clock was indicating near evening. the day was coming to an end.

just like the food in your mouth, tasting rotten even though it looked completely fine, by the third year of your stay in Okhema things suddenly simmered down (wreck of your mind remained). the storm was no longer, thunders and lightning turning into whirlwind — still unpredictable and very much able to cause harm, but a bit more subtle. leading a war for three years straight would humble everyone, even the most capable warriors. for that, you were grateful.

the scorching sun no longer bothered you, and with enough savings you managed to buy yourself a place somewhere further from your surgery. now you didn’t have to reside in the small space, sleeping on medical bed and pretending like being caged there was no problem for you. this change brought you a certain peace of heart, as you regained at least a small piece of your independence.

as for you and Mydei — you still continued with your usual routine, although a bit less fierce. even though you never touched upon the topic, it seemed as if you shared a collective agreement that snapping your teeth at each other’s gullets brought you no good. it never did, but it took you both three years to realize.

now as you stuffed your mouth with some more vegetables, you wondered if Mydei possessed any redeeming qualities. if he didn’t, then you surely would have lost your mind a long time ago. after a short while of brooding, you came up with a verdict — he did. after that incident, it seemed like you started to notice more things. it’s not like you didn’t before, but perhaps you were buried too deep within your own sorrow to actually pay attention. the man wasn’t always awful. there were certain moments when you found common ground, and actually got along. though rare, the soultie progressed, and you felt as if some kind of understanding between you two formed.

after all, he was your soulmate, wasn’t he?

you sat down on the ridge of a big fountain, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. the weather was nice for a change, skies colored with a mesmerizing hue of yellow as the rain stopped pouring a few minutes ago. your clothes were soaked, but that didn’t matter, the cool on your body soothing you. you had a hard time at work today, so you wished for nothing more but a moment of rest — alas, it seemed like the universe wanted to mock you some more.

"look who we have here." a booming voice came from your right making you jump up, even though you were all-too-well accustomed to its sound. "what, don’t tell me you got caught up in the rain?"

"Mydei, give me a break…" you groaned, rubbing at your temples. he was the reason why you had to sweat so much today, and the mere sight of his face already made your blood pressure skyrocket. "are you aware you’re the reason why so many people came to me today?"

from what you’ve gathered, some fools decided it would be a great idea to spar with the Kremnoan prince. nobody wanted to admit to being the originator of the concept, though Phainon appeared especially nervous. you decided against pressuring him into speaking, as he was already injured enough. while you tended to the wounds, sewing the broken skin and putting gauzes to them, everyone kept murmuring one word: 'Mydeimos.' yes, that definitely made sense.

"it’s their fault for being overly-confident." he huffed, sitting down beside you, his eyes fixated on two birds jumping cheerily in a puddle. "if you’re not at least slightly afraid of your opponent, of course you’ll underestimate them, and fail. a pathetic mistake."

"well," you began, stretching out your legs as you captured his expression from the corner of your eye, "i’m not afraid of you at all. does that make me pathetic?"

even though your words sounded a bit exaggerated, it was the truth. throughout all of your fallouts and vicious arguments with Mydei, there was never a time where you were genuinely scared. maybe of yourself — but not of him. over the time you have learned to trust your gut, and right now it was telling you that your soulmate wasn’t a threat. yes, he throughly enjoyed making your existence filled with various anxieties and hardships, but did he ever rise a hand at you? you tried to literally slit his throat, and yet he didn’t even look offended, meanwhile most people would have strangled you unconscious.

his eyebrows rose slightly as he turned his face towards you. "is that so?” he didn’t seem to believe you, doubt arising in the honeyed irises.

"yeah," a humorless, dry chuckle escaped your lips as you studied the look he carried with great attention, "the sun will go out before i’m truly afraid of you. i have no reason to, anyway."

perhaps you should have reasons, because one of Mydei’s glares was enough to render someone unmoving. you watched him fight before, and the enemies seemed to be nothing but mere rag-dolls to him. a mentally-sound person would be trembling in respect before him — unfortunately for you, you were far from that, hence why you had to put up with all of the shouting and arguments.

"how can you be so sure, [name]?" Mydei mocked, but his comment lacked in real bite. it fell as something lighthearted on your ears, urging you to continue.

"if you really wanted to harm me, i’d be beheaded by the time i first threw a plate at you." that evoked a poorly contained snicker from him, and you couldn’t help but smile along. "and you’re… you’re not a bad person, Mydei— at least i don’t think so. bad people don’t play with children, nor do they bake pastries in their free time."

Mydei looked at you as if you just offended his whole lineage, way too dumbfounded to respond. you shook your head, an involuntary huff of laughter slipping past your lips as you took in his baffled expression. "you thought i wouldn’t notice?"

"well— well, obviously—" he forced the words out, struggling to compose a proper sentence, utterly embarrassed. "Phainon must have told you, right? he must have. oh, when i get my hands on that little—"

Phainon didn’t tell you anything. it’s just that after three years of knowing someone, people usually become aware of such things. you vividly remember Mydei playing hide and seek with a group of Kremnoan children, even if a little begrudgingly. it was one year ago, and Krateros asked you to relay some informations upon him. you can’t quite recall what it was, but you remember it being grim — normally you wouldn’t care, but it somehow made you feel somber. you didn’t want to ruin Mydei’s moment of peace, so you simply stood behind a pillar, watching the man count down as kids ran around trying to find the best hiding spot. after a while you departed, thinking it would be best to tell him later.

the other thing — precisely speaking, his baking hobby — you discovered by accident. after a long working day, you spotted Castorice and Tribbie eating something. you didn’t mean to stare, but they eventually noticed your longing gaze and invited you to sit with them. it was rare for you to share a meal with anyone, so you gratefully accepted one of the profiteroles. it was delicious, and the girls giggled at the way your eyes lit up. Tribbie explained those were a gift from 'De', as they liked to affectionately call him. you were surprised to hear that, and even thought about using that as a leverage in one of your many arguments, but eventually abandoned the idea. it wasn’t a bad activity. actually, you found it quite endearing, as far as your positive feelings towards Mydei could go.

you sighed, looking up at the yellow sky as you pleaded the gods for more patience - then, you focused back on the man. "Phainon didn’t tell me, and i don’t perceive any of those things as something you should be ashamed of. they’re good qualities. at least i know you still have a heart, Mydeimos." you grumbled, rolling your eyes.

his features seemed to relax a bit, as if the cause of his stress was based solely on your opinion. "well, aren’t you the sweetest." he murmured, a bit dryly.

you hummed in response, watching Mydei suddenly turn his face away from you, his expression obscured by the blonde locks. before you could say anything else, he pulled himself up, and started to walk away. for a second, you contemplated whether you should call after him, but decided to keep your mouth shut. it was rare for you both to share a conversation so civilized, without any crude remarks or insults. you didn’t want to ruin it for yourself, so you watched his silhouette slowly fade into the crowd of people.

and that was it. sometimes, you’d pace around your room and wonder whether you held any love for him. somewhere, in the deepest corners of your soul, the answer perhaps lied. you would have to dissect your body over and over again, searching for it, until you’d finally find the core — oozing with the venom of a rattlesnake, covered in wildflower petals. being in love, what does it feel like? were you even capable of it?

your scorched mind couldn’t grasp the concept, so you decided to leave it unanswered. even though you yearned for it — even if you wanted to catch it like a butterfly, gently nursing against the palms of your hands. contradictions are an inevitable part of the human nature. soulmates were a curse of sorts, and nowadays it seemed as if you were close to giving in. remaining hellbent took a toll on you, and the line between "surrender" and "acceptance" started to blur. still, you would never forget the torment he brought upon you. Mydei won’t forsake the thousands of your spiteful actions either, their ever-presence hovering just a few steps behind.

in a metaphorical sense, it seemed as if you both were constantly throwing up on each other. reduced from humans to mere specimens, created only to claw at one another’s throats, and then crawl back into the warm embrace as the bloody wounds made your bodies shake with cries. nothing less, nothing more.

the fork in your hand scraped against the ceramic material, forming an unpleasant sound. there was nothing left on your plate. the disgusting dinner gone, replaced with smudges of sauce and vegetable scrapes. you frowned when you suddenly heard the knocking on your door, characteristic enough for you to recognize who was standing behind them. you placed the dish onto your desk, sitting back on the bed. usually you’d be stomping to the door, ready for another clash, vicious words already on your tongue. however, now all of your bared teeth was gone. nothing made sense, and you were worn.

"come in." you called, smoothing out your attire from any wrinkles.

the door opened slowly, and a second later you were already facing Mydei. you sent him a questioning look, taking notice of his slightly slumped form. did he injure himself while sparing? no, that wasn’t possible. you observed him carefully, waiting, trying to deduce what the issue was. maybe those annoying pains were getting to him again.

"i was looking for you." he announced, his tone depraved of any kind of ire he’d still sometimes grace you with.

"you know i’m usually at my place during evening hours." you replied, your eyebrows narrowing together. "did something happen?"

"no." Mydei sighed, taking a few steps forwards. "i just wanted to see you, [name]."

you sent him a chary smile, noting the unabashed tone of his voice. honestly, it took you by surprise, but somehow you understood what he meant. it was always like that — you wished to never talk to him again, yet you felt as if you were conjoined.

(grief-stricken people seek resolve, as they have nothing — and once it’s caught by their fangs, they won’t let go, no matter how much pain it brings in its wake).

Mydei’s expression was a little absent, stripped from the usual high-awareness. "you seem tired." a soft mutter left your lips as you gently grabbed his fingers and tugged towards you, wondering whether he was getting enough sleep.

"maybe a bit." he admitted, kneeling by the side of your bed and wrapping his arms around your waist. you let him without any hesitation, watching as he put his head on your lap.

moments of intimacy were not a part of your everyday life, however there were times when one of you would unravel and lean on the other person. humans needed connection. they needed touch, warmth, affection. those were things you’d never use to describe the relationship with your soulmate, yet you couldn’t resist the sparse comfort when offered.

Mydeimos was much nicer to you in your head. your conversations didn’t usually go as planned. sometimes, when you felt the side of his face press into your neck as you let your healing energy flow through his spine, you dwelled on things he harbored within his heart. after you were done, he’d retract his body away from yours and send you a fleeting glance, filled with grudges and dismay. you’d scowl back, thinking how nice it would be to never see him again.

you ran your fingers through his golden locks, feeling at how soft they were in contrast to their owner. whenever the man got tired — genuinely tired — he’d always become so docile. the rise and fall of his chest was meek, and you would’ve thought he wasn’t breathing at all if you didn’t look closer. the same hands that ripped his enemies apart were now cradling you, as if your body was made out of glass. all the hatred and rage was gone, replaced by silent agreement to let this moment last before you’d be back to spitting at each other.

Mydei never opened up to you. you didn’t know what he went through in the past — all the horrors and trauma shaping him into who he was now. it must have taken a lot of effort to stay gentle, at least in a certain way, hidden away from the eyes of others. you leaned down, watching his relaxed face as you trailed over the tear-shaped tattoo with your intent gaze. when you felt Mydei press himself further into your lap, one conclusion appeared clearer than anything you managed to deduce throughout those three years of bloodborne struggles.

no matter what, all wolves dream of being a dog.

[key201303]

Sylus x f!reader

Pairing: Husband!Sylus x F!Reader ft. Luke and Kieran

Warnings: pure fluff, but suggestive at the end

Plot: You come back home to find your husband playing tea time with the twins, Mephisto and your 4 year old daughter.

A/N: a few days ago I asked you guys what if I started writing with LADS boys and you seemed to like the idea so here I am 🥰 I was needing something really soft with Sylus and came up with this, hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻

“Would you like some more tea Your Majesty?” Kieran’s voice caught your attention when you entered the base. You’ve been out the entire day on a mission, trying to find a Wanderer the Association has been tracking for some time now. You were used to coming home to the voice of your little daughter playing in her room with Mephisto and her plushies but hearing Kieran’s voice coming from your daughter’s room was unusual.

Once you removed your shoes and jacket, you looked around the place, looking for your husband to ask what were the twins doing with your little girl. But for some reason he was nowhere to be seen. “Did he have to leave for some meeting and left Kieran and Luke taking care of our princess?” You thought to yourself while you walked towards the girl’s room.

Right before you could open the door to take a look, a very familiar voice was interrupted by the mechanical noise Mephisto’s wings made when he flew around. “Princess, I think 15 stickers are enough to decorate Mephisto.” Sylus told the little girl who was excitedly placing a new glittery sticker on Mephisto’s head. You slowly opened the door, trying to go unnoticed so you could find out what was going on. Once you could see inside the room, you couldn’t help your heart melting at the lovely image you had in front of yourself.

Mephisto was covered in glittery stickers with it’s nails painted in light pink, Sylus face was covered in rainbow little stones your daughter asked you thousand of times to get, two little ponytails decorating his silvery hair, fake nails trying their best to not fall off the twin’s gloves as they were sipping imaginary tea on an empty cup with their pinky fingers up and a lively pink feather scarf decorating their necks. And last but not least, your daughter having her princess dress and crown, being the head of the little tea table Sylus probably agreed on moving from the living room and having the best time of her life.

You tried to hold back your laughter at the sight of the little scene you had before you, not wanting to interrupt their little moment. But you completely failed when Sylus made eye contact with you. He definitely didn’t look as the bad boy he pretended to be for everyone else with those two little ponytails and face covered in rainbow glitter. “Look who’s finally back from work.” He said standing up and walking towards you, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Momma!!!” Your daughter screamed, getting up from the floor and running to your arms. “I see you guys were having lot of fun while I was gone.” You said as you hugged her tightly, lifting her up on your arms. “Daddy accepted playing tea time with us! And he even let me play with Mephie!!” She said excitedly. You looked at your husband with an eyebrow raised, surprise written all over your face. “Baby I told you his name is not Mephie.” Sylus said, taking your little girl from your arms, nuzzling his nose in her stomach making her laugh at the ticklish feeling. “Maybe I should punish the one who taught you to call him Mephie.” He added giving you a playful look. “Don’t do that!! I’ll protect mommy!!” Your daughter said, taking your husband’s face into her little hands, forcing him to look at her and squishing his cheeks. “Oh really??” He said, his voice muffed due to his daughter squishing his cheeks.

He put your daughter down, getting in position to fight. Your daughter ran in front of you, trying to cover you with her tiny body. Her fierce red eyes pierced her father’s heart, the same way his eyes did to yours. You couldn’t help thinking they were definitely a copy of each other. “Uncle Luke, Uncle Kieran, in whose side are you?” The girl asked with a threatening voice. The twins exchanged a hesitant look before standing up. “We will always serve you Your Majesty.” They said bowing and kneeling in front of you and your daughter. Sylus’ face turned into a defeated face when he saw his right and left hand betray him for his own daughter. ��Mephie?” You asked, returning the playful look at Sylus from before. The mechanical crow squawked as he flew to land on Sylus’ finger. He let out a victorious laugh.

Your daughter, not accepting the betrayal of the little crow, takes out some of Mephisto’s favorite snack, taking it out for him to notice. “Hey Mephie, don’t you want some snacks?” She said, calling and convincing the little animal. Mephisto happily squawks, flying towards her hand. “That’s cheating Miss Traitor.” Sylus said, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows clearly annoyed.

Only then a little battle started between you, Sylus took your daughter in his arms, turning her upside down and tickling her. “Dad wait!! I can’t- I can’t breathe.” She said laughing loudly, trying to get rid of her dad’s embrace.

You loved these little moments. These little moments when you couldn’t help feeling you all were a normal family. These moments where Sylus acted like a lovely caring dad instead of the cruel leader of Onychinus everyone thought he was.

Once your daughter’s energy was under low, you finally tucked her in bed and walked to your room where your husband was already waiting for you in bed. “Did you have fun?” You asked as you get in bed and laid in his arms. “Did you have any doubts?” He said, placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Answering a question with another question? I thought you weren’t that kind of person.” You said, hugging him tighter, leaning even further into his embrace if that was possible. “There are so many things I do you would be surprised about, kitten.” He said laughing. He definitely demonstrated you that side today.

You both stayed quiet for a little while. His long slender fingers drawing random patterns on your bared skin arm, nuzzling your hair, taking in your delicious scent that never failed to lull him to sleep. But before he decided it was time for you two to sleep, he smiled out of the blue. Sensing his sudden smile, you get off his chest, looking at him with a confused look. “I was just thinking… Maybe we should give our princess a little prince to play with so Mephie and the twins don’t have to wear tons of stickers and glitter.” Your husband said teasingly. His crimson eyes shine beautifully, moon shaped, mimicking his lips that remained as a huge smile. “I thought you didn’t like the nickname Mephie.” You teased, ignoring the fact of him asking you for another son. “You’re really good at avoiding topics.” Sylus said, pecking your lips and laughing in between.

[usedpidemo]

Getting closer (Kang Hyewon)

“All I’m saying is—” Hyewon looks away, drink in hand, taking a little sip, calm and alluring as ever, “if you only want to see me naked, then you could have just said so.”

You widely stare back, silent, indifferent—or at least pretend to be. It’s gotten you a fair amount of awards, after all. It’s not the slightest bit of convincing whatsoever.  

She laughs, softly, as if this was the expected outcome. “So I’m taking that as an admission.” 

Setting down the near-empty wine glass on the bathroom sink, Hyewon attempts to walk away, only to be stopped by a sudden pull. Your hand appears tightly wrapped around her dainty wrist, unwilling to let go. Your eyes aimlessly wander up and down the empty void that is her black dress. There are hardly any thoughts behind that predictably empty head of yours, only the simplest of desires.

You catch the subtlest grin forming on her saccharine lips. You fucking hate how she makes you feel. How she makes your heart race with every exchange.

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, you wish you got to know her better.

—————

The last year and a half of your career has mostly centered around one thing, or in this case, one person: Kang Hyewon. There’s also this drama starring your pairing as co-leads, and you’ve been promoting together, but your names make up more of the headlines than the very show. Your names are synonymously tied together akin to an actual couple.

Unsurprisingly, Hyewon is damn gorgeous. It’s how she’s getting the calls to begin with. Another one of those former singers turned actors looking to be taken seriously within the larger entertainment industry. Most never make it past their first project and fall back on their old careers, with some completely flaming out of the spotlight altogether. She’s an exception. A minor part here, a supporting cameo there—until she’s more than pleasant eye candy. A starlet who knows how to pick what roles would showcase her talents the most. 

She’s the perfect blend of beauty goddess and hotshot young star that the internet can get behind.

So it comes as a surprise when she’s casted as second fiddle to you, the first billing—and everyone comes away talking about her more. The scene stealer. 

(This plucky rival agent, investigating a case your character has been trailing for years, barely scraping by with the thinnest of clues, only for her to uncover the mystery only days after starting the investigation. The writing screams Mary Sue, but she acts convincing and vulnerable enough to escape the scathing think pieces that’s commonly associated with such characters. Not to mention: you both look damn good together on screen and during your public appearances.

It’s a team that sailed a thousand ships—both for your characters and in the real world.)

The consummate professional you are, you don’t think much of it. Your filming experience can only be described as businesslike. Except for the scenes where you’re together on screen, you’ve been separated at arms’ length, only exchanging words between takes to keep any further relationship from developing. It’s only during the press tour where you’ve finally gotten somewhat close.

Perhaps a little too close for comfort. Enough to make video compilations by overzealous fans who think you and Hyewon are really an item. The evidence is everywhere—in interviews, behind the scenes content, and on both your Instagram pages. At least, that’s what they want to believe. Everyone else brushes it off as two hot people being hot together, and not much else.

Here’s the thing: you love Hyewon—that much is true. The question now is: does she love you back?

Thankfully, your duo doesn’t get in the way of the show being lauded, despite making up a majority of its fandom. Positive reviews from both critics and viewers, especially in regards to your chemistry. The connection between you two is one in a million, something that can’t be built over years and years of working together. It also helps your performances sell the dynamic incredibly well—well enough to create those delusional shippers that form the bedrock of your partnership. 

Your names were positioned to go far during awards season. Not the consensus top pick, but as dark horse contenders to steal one every now and then. And while you both won your fair share of accolades, neither of you ended up walking away with the top prize. The conversation during the final ceremony of the year consisted primarily of the media and viewers talking about how your appearances together these last few months—and how you’re a match made in heaven. 

Everyone’s gonna miss this pairing—and so will you.

Now you’re back at square one. Having snuck away from the afterparty currently celebrating the dozen or so awards your show won earlier tonight, you’ve brought Hyewon back to your hotel room. Neither of you cared once you both lost your respective categories. The pundits thought you each only had the slimmest of odds to win, so why bother. Hell, you were both itching to leave as soon as the red carpet concluded. 

It’s all behind you now. You’re finally free from the glitz, glamor, and chaos of these vanity ceremonies and can really focus on what really matters—the pretty girl that you most likely won’t be seeing starring tomorrow. Your careers and interests couldn’t be any further apart: your main focus is movies, while hers are dramas. Both of you remain booked and busy for the next few years with different projects, with not a single one reuniting you two for the foreseeable future.

Back to Hyewon. She’s looking down at her wrist, tightly held by your hand. She allows it. You can feel her pulse. You sense that your hearts are racing in unison, tense and anxious.

“Are you gonna do something?” she questions, daring you to pull the trigger. She knows something you don’t—or maybe you do. You’re blinded by fear to realize it. “The night is fleeting. If not now, then when?”

Her words ring through your head. 

If not now, then when?

The same five words, ordered in the exact same way—etched in tiny letters on her skin.

You still remember everything—frame by frame, down to the last details. On screen, it’s implied. In your mind, it canonically happened. She took her shirt off, exposing herself and the scars of battle, and you were gonna go there. In your characters’ supposed words, ‘Clean’’ in your own unique way.

It was ultimately never shot. Bare minimum of fanservice and completely unnecessary, the director said. 

The tattoo sticks out, not only because of how it's deeply embedded on her otherwise pristine, lithe figure, but also because it represents the last 18 months of your career.

During this period, there are a lot of things that you’ve regret—and will regret. The fact you’ve kept contact with her during filming at a minimum, keeping your interactions strictly between takes and creating a negative air around you in her eyes. The fact it took you so long to exchange numbers, only getting it done during the press tour. The fact that you never return her messages when she constantly reaches out to you, whether through text or on your Instagram. The fact you haven’t thanked her enough times during your acceptance speeches, even when you mention her name in almost every other sentence. If there’s anything you want to admit, it’s that Hyewon is everything.

Most importantly, the fact that you fucking love her, to the point where you’d yearn moments when you’re not beside her—and you still lack the will to confess to her. Even right now. When she’s right at your fingertips.

Perhaps she knows this. The signs were there all along. How she often posts your red carpet photos together and tags you in them. How she also mentions you as much during her acceptance speeches and credits you as a reason for her improvements in acting, even referencing specific advice you’ve given her. The biggest hint, however, are the dresses she’s been wearing to these galas, most evident being tonight. Simple all black, tailor made for her frame, showing off her assets for flaunting to the cameras. 

Earlier, she led you to an empty part of the theater to say something in private. “I wore this just for you,” she said—and from that point, you had to get her alone, whatever it takes.

Really, Hyewon has no intention to leave tonight. She’s just waiting for those magic words. There’s no other logical reason for her to be here, other than for you.

She might as well be holding up a huge signpost with all her requests written in capital letters. 

“If you’re not gonna do anything,” she says, tone casual, slipping one strap of her dress down her shoulder, the one half of the fabric dropping a fair amount. “Then I might as well do it myself. I was hoping you’d take this off me—”

“Stop.” 

You grab her other hand, close to touching the other strap, the dress more than ready to fall down. She raises her eyebrows in amusement. Afterward, she puts the seized hand down, convincing you to release the grip. 

Another win for Hyewon. You’ve lost count as to how many times she’s been messing with you throughout awards season. Probably in the hundreds. Thousands if you count the interviews and little jabs during her speeches. Every mention of your name is an immediate sign of trouble. You can sense she’s enjoying every single moment, relishing the remaining time you have left. Meanwhile, it’s clear on your face that you’re stressed. 

But for what?

“If it hasn’t gotten through your thick skull, then I have no choice but to explain it.” Hyewon climbs atop the bathroom sink, strong enough to lift herself off the ground. She pours the glass with new wine; it’s not meant for you. Her attitude flips instantaneously like a switch, composed and readying herself as if it were another photoshoot. 

Taking a sip of the drink, she pours the rest all over her dress. It serves no purpose anymore. it’s undeniable that she knows what she’s doing. That elegant yet cocky smile is permanently seared into your brain. Someone this haughty shouldn’t be this beautiful and seductive. “You can stand there and waste the night away, or you can do something about it. All up to you.”

You can only sigh. Whether out of wistfulness or annoyance is up for interpretation. You can add taking her back to your hotel room and taking this role in your ever growing list of regrets. When it’s all said and done, it’ll definitely be as long as the career documentary they’ll make about you in 50 years.

What more do you have to lose? 

This will all be behind you soon enough.

You finally stop giving her the cold shoulder. “God, I really wish you weren’t such a tease,” you remark, pulling on the dress strap she previously slid down. “Because otherwise, it would have been so much easier.”

Hyewon seems to have taken your words seriously, because she suddenly kisses you—as in, relentlessly smothers you. Her arms wrap around your neck, slowly pulling you close into an embrace. She smells of alcohol and perfume. An unusual concoction that you can drown yourself in.

“Only if you say the magic word,” she says, gently laughing between kisses. The lower half of your face is full of pale lipstick marks. It was foolish to think she had turned a new leaf, knowing how intentional Hyewon can be with everything.

You’ve really got no other choice.

“I love you,” you confess, but in the smallest audible voice imaginable—hiding that reluctance behind your tone. 

Hyewon pulls herself back, smiling toothily at you, borderline snorting. Her expressions convey the idea that you told her a joke, which it may as well be. 

“That’s it? Doesn’t sound like someone who loves me,” she remarks, tone evidently disparaging.

“Fuck me.” The groan comes out instinctively, as if this wasn’t your first time getting burned like this. Your head is raised to the ceiling, asking the gods for an out.

“That’s my line,” she spouts, her response almost as instantaneous. Wit comes naturally to Hyewon. The countless viewers and interviewers who’ve laughed can speak on her behalf.

“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” you ask, knowing you’ve willingly fallen for the easiest bait in the entire world.

“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” she repeats, mockingly imitating your voice, much to your utter chagrin. This isn’t part of some romcom or a sketch. This is real. Everything comes back around to Hyewon. She laughs—basks in your suffering.

It’s the kind of trait that would leave you second guessing whether you really love her or not. As it turns out, the public loves celebrities with a playful sense of humor. Not even you are innocent—you’ve been caught red-handed on camera a few times. Hyewon doesn’t need to reaffirm herself.

But she would love to hear it straight from the source.

“Say it. Say it.” Hyewon is urging you—demanding you—as if it were a matter of life or death. Her hands are everywhere, gripping you by the cheek and the throat like her prized possessions, threatening to choke the life out of you. 

Truthfully, this was coming the moment she stepped through those doors for the first table read. Hyewon’s gravity is inescapable.

“Love you—Hyem, please—” 

Struggling to push back against her hold, you can tell that she’s taking pleasure in every moment she has you like this: wrapped around her finger, so whipped over her that it’s alarming. There’s little use in trying to be coy or subtle. If she wanted you to go down to the afterparty in nothing but your boxers, you’d fold in a heartbeat. She’s the kind of girl you’d happily end up in a scandal with, someone you’d throw your career away in exchange for one timeless night, against the advice of everyone who knows better.

She knows this too. Look at the coy grin spreading on her face. A smile perfect for the front cover of any magazine or commercial. It’s the perfect facade for the attitude hiding beneath.

“I love you Hyem,” you repeat, showing a bit more desperation and sincerity this time. You’re breathing against her neck, the idea of pressing your lips against her skin a dire need. It’s unfortunate you can’t make it look like an accident—as is the idea of your bodies sinking down on the bathroom countertop. “For the longest time, I wanted you, but—”

Only now do you come to the simplest realization: there are no accidents.

Normally, you should feel some shame for being this oblivious. How a girl like Hyewon is giving out all these hints, to the point where she might as well be spreading her legs wide and pointing down at her cunt with a colorful sign. Hell, a thigh is peeking through her dress, pressing on your leg right now. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about working with other actors, it’s that chemistry comes naturally—it can’t be taught.

And your bodies are doing exactly that. The friction between you can’t be any more tense.

“Then show me.” She sighs against your ear, pulling on the topmost button of your suit, pushing down the matching coat. Her leg extends around your limb, goading you to pull away, even though leaving the pretty sight right in front of you is the last thing on your mind. 

You can only breathe. Slow. Hesitant. There's not a lot of hours left, and you’re wasting more by taking your sweet time—resting your gaze on her pale shoulder, admiring all the little details. In essence, you’re doing the complete opposite of what Hyewon wants. She’s showing a little frustration, proving how much better of an actress she is than you. Imagine being in her shoes, beckoning to someone astronomically unaware for months. So much energy and effort could have been saved if she chose to leave you out to dry. If you weren’t so preoccupied with thoughts of her, the many ways this little scene can go, you’d be wondering why she’s this persistent. 

Maybe you’re just as important of a character in her story too, or you’re both stubborn in your own ways. Perhaps both.

None of that is your concern right now. You’re cupping Hyewon’s face, kissing her, nibbling down on her creamy skin, reaching up to her lips by the way of her neck, pulling on the strap of her dress little by little. In response, she’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear, removing your dress shirt one button at a time. It feels like you’re going through the motions, acting under the words of an intimacy coordinator and a director. Slowly but surely, it’s all coming together, until—

“Stop.” 

You pull back, noticing your shirt is nearly undone as you look past her and at the mirror. Both dress straps are halfway down her arms, the fabric a mess, waiting to be swept away. 

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “What’s up?” 

Hyewon tilts her head at an angle, unsatisfied. She’s staring at you intently, taking a moment to analyze you like you’re a problem to solve—which you are—before coming to a rather alarming conclusion. “You don’t seem like you want me that bad.”

The remark doesn’t register in your brain. “What do you mean—”

She yanks you forward for a deep kiss, cutting you off. Reciprocating her passion comes naturally—and so does everything else. The movement of your hands, taking lease of her back, tearing through the fabric of her dress, coming back to her cheeks, until you stop feeling cloth and register more flesh. Feeling her skin becomes your new addiction, something you can’t get enough of. 

Watching her other movies—for research purposes—you knew she was well endowed, even when they were not on full display.  Some of her previous gala dresses truly put a spotlight on her cleavage. Part of you thought it was editing trickery, a perfectly taken photo at the right time, or a bra doing the heavy lifting. All three even. But holding them now, with nothing in between, you simply couldn’t believe how well they’ve been hidden from you. 

Her tits fold, go flush, and her nipples stiffen at your touch. They feel so right—as if they were handmade for you.

“God, Hyem—” you breathe out, savoring the sensation of her mounds in your clasp, unwilling to let go. Her taut nipples jerk with every run of your palms. If only you could rest your head between them, but your current position won’t allow you. 

“They feel so good right?” Hyewon moans in response, shedding your unbuttoned shirt off your body and tossing it to the floor, taking lease of your muscles and back. Her dress bunches up around her waist, practically collapsing when she decides to get up from the sink. Although an expected outcome, you’re both surprised that you’ve managed to get each other’s clothes off.

And you’re only getting started.

Pushing you away, Hyewon meets you at your level. Gravity does the rest. She stands before you in nothing but heels. What a mental image to remember her after tonight. She leaves you frozen and trembling, jaw agape, your eyes in a daze, unable to find a place to settle your fleeting gaze on—until she rests her hands around your shoulders. You’re caught up in your own disbelief to meet her lovely gaze and that rather sweet smile, quite the difference from her bare state.

She lifts up a leg, pushing herself onto you for another passionate kiss. Taking advantage, her legs eventually wrap around your waist, bearing all her weight on your grasp. Despite her surprise attack, she’s feathery enough to carry around. It certainly helps that she’s not the heaviest girl you’ve lifted before; you have some experience—mostly unpleasant and usually backbreaking. Still, you’ll treat her like some delicate object that crumbles at the slightest touch. Something—or someone—you can’t ruin, or else you’d be ruined too.

You both end up in the living room, deeply engrossed in a fiery passion that’s too hot for cameras. Lifting her high, your lips find their way to her chest, pressing them in the place where they rightfully belong. Hyewon is stubborn, pushing your head further up to meet your lips in a direct, frantic kiss. Back and forth, you take turns between her tits and her lips, unintentionally slamming her against a wall, eliciting a few yelps out of her. 

It doesn’t bother you both in the slightest. You hold her there, kissing down her abdomen and ribs, coming to the tiny inked part of her figure. The same tattoo that’s been ingrained in your head since you first saw them.

You mutter the very words against her skin. 

“If not now, then when.”

They’ve never been so relevant till right now. You softly kiss the ink, silently thanking her for saving you from a lifetime’s worth of regret.

Hyewon winces, throws her head back, moans up to the ceiling. Her nails brush through your hair, then claw at your nape as you remain fixated on her tattooed rib. She deserves to be adored and worshiped.

“Look at me babe,” she murmurs, gently tilting you up, faint at your touch. Against your desires, you follow. “Put me down. You know why I’m here.”

You oblige without a second thought—and you’re both on a level playing field again.

Still, you can’t help but kiss her right after. She reciprocates the favor. You’re a perfect match. Even as you’re making out, you’re thinking of ways to get messy and get the jump on her while she’s preoccupied. 

It ends up being your biggest mistake.

Both of you wrestle for control over the other, a scuffle that ends up knocking down a few appliances and tableware. The sound of glass shattering rips through the hotel room floor louder than your collective moans ever will. For someone with a lithe figure, Hyewon proves to be much stronger than you were led to believe. It shows when you try to push her onto another table; you both end up crashing to the floor seconds later. 

From there, it’s whoever is the first to get up, and you knew it was all over from there.

Hyewon leads you into the sole bedroom, shoving you onto the mattress. Unrelenting, she slams onto you right after, pinning you down with her bare hands. Surprising her with your own strength, you reach for her raven locks through her ironclad grip of your wrists. Your lips continue to crash like waves against rocks, neither of you willing to back down. There’s a clear disparity between you: she wants you more.

To further prove her point, she presses her palms down on your chest, sitting over you upright, straddled on your lap. She’s never looked better.

Making quick work of your trousers, your cock is freed from its confines, only to be immediately caught up in Hyewon’s hand. Her grip spreads through your groin, turning breathing into an absolute nightmare. The one fear that’s been haunting your mind these last few months, finally realized. 

And it’s staring you down with an innocent yet wicked smile.

“You have no idea how long I wanted this,” she remarks, her sultry voice sending shivers down your spine. Arching down, she presses her tongue forward on your throbbing tip. Combined with the pressure she’s building with her hand, holes puncture through your lungs. And right on command, you’re leaking. She’s lapping your cock in circles, slow and agonizing, taking every little drop of precum seeping. You can only tremble beneath her, utterly defenseless. “Remembering when I was tapping your foot with my heel earlier tonight?”

She leaves you in such a dizzying spiral that you can’t even look directly at her, let alone formulate a reply. Meanwhile, her eyes remain fixed on you, doe-eyed with innocence, yet her actions are cruel. Breathing proves to be a struggle, let alone returning with a response. “What about it?”

“I wanted you to follow me to the bathroom. And I wanted you to fuck me in there.”

Honest to God, that was not the first thought on your mind. If anything, the presence of many proved to be the ideal shield in keeping yourself away from Hyewon. Losing best actor was the greatest blessing in disguise, as it meant you didn’t have to look straight into her magnetic eyes during your theoretical speech and make an embarrassment of yourself in front of hundreds in attendance, and millions watching on television. 

Now that you’re in bed with no way to escape, you can only accept your fate.

“I’m not the best at reading the room,” you comment, sheepishly shaking your head.

“Not surprising, honestly,” she says, rewarding your candor with a kiss—on your tip. Then another. More heartwarming than arousing, if anything. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a dork?”

“Not the first time I’ve heard it from a girl,” you say, in an attempt to show some wit, only to be met with a stiff grip on your cock. “Ah—fuck—”

A bit more force and Hyewon could break you in half with her mere hand alone. She’s cold, calculating, and cruel. Her expression seems apathetic, yet deep down, you can tell she’s having so much fun toying and teasing you, stealing what little semblance of willpower you have. And to think she’s this demure, sometimes funny celebrity with a certain image that’s universally admired by many. 

Behind that gaze, she’s thinking of more ways to further ruin you.

“I don’t think a dork like you has been with other girls,” she remarks, leaning forward to tease a kiss, only to leave you dry. “But looking at this cock—”

She stops to admire your shaft once more. Ultimately, she can’t help herself. She has to give your tip another ceremonious flick with her parched tongue in appreciation. Two, actually. If she doesn’t stop, you’ll soon be deep in her throat, and you know she’s not letting you go. Thankfully, she finally regains sight of what she wants in the first place.

Lifting herself ever so slightly, Hyewon takes a deep breath—then slowly melts into you. 

It’s a car crash you can’t look away from. It’s inevitable, but you’re completely powerless to stop her. You can only groan in agony as your bodies intertwine, creating a union that only she can break. Inch by inch, you helplessly watch as Hyewon slowly takes you into her suffocating heat. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before: vicious, intense, and painful. 

It doesn’t help that she’s taking her sweet time, keeping you on edge for what may as well be an eternity, bracing for the certain explosion she’s going to leave in her wake. 

“Oh—fuck—it’s so perfect,” Hyewon throws her head back, her jaw dropping slow, every word delivered in a near-inaudible sigh. Eventually, she buries herself in you deep to the hilt—and she keens. “That—that’s it—that’s the fucking spot—”

Your hands cling to her waist, your maw similarly agape, breathing tensely as the pleasure slowly courses through your muscles. “God—you’re fucking tight—”

She hums in return, satisfied by your response, before losing herself in the sensation of your cock impaling her—and she begins to move.

As you fight the urge to cum right then and there, Hyewon slowly lifts herself off your lap, your cock reappearing with a fresh coat of her drenched pussy, before sinking back down. She rips the breath right from your lungs, while you’re forced to shut your eyes. Anything to keep your brain firing as the pleasure rushing throughout your body sends you into overdrive. 

You’re an outlet of ecstasy, a conduit for her to loosen all her pent-up frustration and lust. Her palms grip to your thighs, keeping you in place—as if you’re in any condition to move anywhere except for her whim. She’s crashing into you at a punishing pace as a result of keeping yourself away for so long. And she’s being open about it too: “Why did it take us so long—ugh—”

You can only moan back. Truthfully, you’re wondering the same thing too. 

As your eyes alternate between wide open and completely shut, you catch glimpses of Hyewon using every inch of you to fill her wanton pussy with cock. When she’s not cursing or screaming your name, her moans fill your ears with sweet, sultry music. It’s a sound not of her high class image. She’s riding you like it’s life or death, like her heart will stop beating if her cunt isn’t being stretched out.

With every bounce, so do her breasts. Up and down, settling into a rhythm, forming a hypnotic motion that your eyes get lost in. Your obsession reaches a point to where the movement of her tits stirs you on, reigniting your tired muscles. You can’t lie there and be a helpless viewer any longer.

And so, you meet Hyewon halfway, matching the grind of her hips with your thrust at the apex, setting her alight. This particular stroke. The hot sensation. It utterly shatters her. Her voice cracks. She trembles violently, giving you breathing room to sit upward and lean close to her chest. 

So while she staggers back, overwhelmed by your cock spearing her cunt, you go down on her succulent breasts, squishing your face between them. Despite having Hyewon’s body all to yourself, the friction between your bodies creates this wracking storm that drives you insane. It isn’t enough that you’re feasting on her tits, that her boobs are bouncing so hard it’s downright pornographic, and that she’s screaming her heart out in response to each stroke. This will be headline news tomorrow. Yet, none of that is your concern. You have to pour everything into her. It’s now or never.

“Fuck yes—oh fuck—fucking take me—fuck—” Hyewon’s riding your cock, forcing all the air out your lungs, rendering you speechless. Doesn’t matter, you’re drowning in her slick and her tits, pounding away with twice the effort. She’s swearing through her tongue like she’s a cop in a crime picture, biting down on her lip in a flimsy attempt to restrain herself, but anyone with a good ear nearby could have easily identified her voice through the four walls of this hotel room. Knowing her, it’s intentional. She’s determined to put you through a world of trouble, leaving you with no other choice but to shut her up.

And you’re going to do just that.

You end up yanking her by the waist as your bodies repeatedly collide with each other. Each impact the equivalent of a cosmic explosion, the aftermath echoing through the room. The sound of skin slapping skin fills your ears louder than what it seems in the movies. Sex with Hyewon is much, much better than in your fantasies. Here’s another thing that can’t be found on camera: her soft pleas begging you to keep going, interlaced between harsh whines and airy moans that can’t be faked.

“God, I’m gonna fucking cum, Hyewon.” There you go, your silly side showing at such a serious moment. Everyone knows you don’t proclaim your impending climax. Rookie mistake. You’re not shooting a porno, but you might as well be with how hard you’re fucking her. She can’t help but cackle even as you relentlessly pound into her cunt. What should be a moment of weakness immediately gets brushed aside as you hold her when she slams down, and you finally fall apart.

Impaling your cock hilt deep inside Hyewon, you’re digging your palms deep into her soft flesh, unwilling to let go. She rests her head beside yours as you blast her with thick, warm cum. Her prolonged, saccharine-sounding moan is nothing compared to the loaded groan that ripples through the room. The supplication she makes, demanding you to fill her with every little drop goes through deaf ears. Your dick seems to have heard it loud and clear, though. The amount you’re filling her is enough to rip through her body violently too. She follows with her own peak afterwards, hitting a previously unheard octave higher, your bodies finally melting into one. 

Just like that, she’s clinging to you like you’re her personal life support, completely drained of all her strength. 

The ecstasy lasts for a brief moment. The fall off happens too soon for your liking. Like her, you’re sapped of energy and you fall down to earth with Hyewon in your arms. The end comes—not with grandiose drama or spectacle, but by a calm, uneventful stir.

You should be done at this point. It’s been a long day. You’ve been up as early as sunrise, spent hours behind makeup and measuring tape for a suit you won’t wear more than once. Smiling comes natural, if not downright fake; in front of the cameras, on the red carpet, on screen, and even during the afterparties. Every time you step out in public, there’s an image, a reputation to uphold. You’ve done this a dozen times in the past few months alone, bearing a lifetime’s worth of and it never gets more comfortable or easier. It’s a miracle you haven’t cracked or had a public breakdown, even though your mind is calling for it.

And yet, all that labor and agony is worth it for what you have now. The awards, the recognition, the adoration—but most especially the girl. What are you now, taken out of a story. One that feels all too familiar and done to death, but it never grows old or tired. 

By all accounts, it should be a happy ending. 

Except you’re not done. You’re not satisfied, and so is Hyewon. Even though she’s settling down in your embrace, resting her head against your heartbeats, mumbling these sweet nothings about how much you’ve ruined her and fucked her to shreds, she’s quietly begging for more. It isn’t about keeping a sanctimonious image anymore; it’s about how far you’ll push her and use her. Your throbbing cock buried inside her cunt says it too.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about acting, it’s that one take isn’t enough.

Like a damsel in distress, you scoop Hyewon into your arms. Through what you might consider a second wind, you carry her into the bathroom again on wobbly legs, stepping into the shower, showing that you’re ready to take your relationship a step further. You’ll hash out the details in the morning—if she hasn’t left by then.

The sound of running water serves as background for the airy, lewd noises that quickly fill the shower. 

Hyewon feels incredibly soft to touch. Pliable in your grasp, like a doll to bend, twist, and use at your whim. You’re squeezing her flesh, fondling her mounds tightly till you’re seeing red everywhere. Her tits, her shapely ass, and everything in between. Kissing down her body, giving every little part its much needed attention. You’ve fucked her to pieces, yes, but she’s still housing a divine figure that deserves the same level of praise. 

With two fingers stroking at her cunt, she’s keening, her head tilted up to meet the relentless downpour rushing down over your bodies. Her voice is in tatters after an hour of tireless screaming, in addition to all the mindless chatter from earlier tonight. Part of you wishes to have taken up her offer. Something this good shouldn’t be kept secret, but you’re more than selfish enough to keep Hyewon all to yourself. 

Your raging impulse gets the better of you, and you slap her tits from behind. She yelps a cry of pain and pleasure. The recoil and sound activates something in your brain like a sleeper agent. You do it a second time, then a third. You stop counting after, indulging yourself in the satisfying noise of her mounds smacked over and over, every squeal, every strike equally as gratifying as your cock slamming into her pussy. She’s clinging to the walls as a respite, her body shuddering vigorously, but you don’t give her a moment to breathe. It’s what she would have wanted: to be used and taken like a ragdoll.

Hyewon screams again when you swing her around, lifting one leg around your waist, and slam your cock inside her. No pleasantries, no talking through the process—only a desire to fuck. Burying your face against her neck, growling into her skin like a ravenous beast, you hammer away without care for neither your comfort nor hers. You’re counting the hours, minutes, seconds before she disappears from your life, and you’re gonna make sure that years from now, she remembers this night in particular.

You’re too engrossed to see her expressions twist in impossible ways that average humans can make. But that’s the point: Hyewon is no ordinary person. She’s one actress, something that can be found in others who are more talented and have more resounding qualities, but more than that, to you, she’s everything. The clench of her cunt on your cock continues to invigorate you and push you further. With every thrust, she jumps and sends aftershocks coursing through your veins. God, you love how incredibly well she fucking takes it, and the slightest tilt of her lips struggling to form a grin reinforce this. You’ve got nothing else to say, really; you easily lose yourself in your own lust, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It doesn’t take too long before you feel it again. The end. It’s approaching faster than you can react. You knew it wasn’t going to be a drawn out affair, but you’re so desperate to reach that high, no matter how brief it may be. It was too good to pass up, and you’re beyond waiting a second more.

You’d give everything up for even a single minute longer, but the period of bargaining has long passed you by.

“Gonna cum again—fuck—” is all you can muster, your first words after a long while. Her pussy feels so good to form coherent words. Lust has utterly consumed your brain more than anything. The entire time, Hyewon’s mewling, keening in every direction, trying to find purchase on the walls or the shower door, only to fall a few inches short. She ends up coming back to you, hanging on for dear life. You’ve never let up, terrified that she’ll magically disappear into nothing at any second. 

Acting fast, as if you’ve got a ticking bomb in hand, you draw your cock out, coated in a thick sheen of your own cum and hers, pumping yourself with a few strokes of your hand until you finally explode. The shower washes down the milky white blot you’re unloading on her skin, never leaving a permanent mark. It does, however, bring you back to the place that began your undoing.

The tattoo on her rib. 

Water wipes the cum blocking the view. Despite those same five words occupying your mind for the last few hours, it still hits like a fresh revelation. You hear her voice repeating them inside your head as you come to your senses, your lust being satiated—for now. Even when Hyewon is completely broken before you, reduced to a quiet pile of flesh. One hand on the surrounding wall, the other in limbo, her leg still coiled around your waist, forcing oxygen into her tired lungs wherever she can. 

With the ‘quick’ shower done, and after hardly any cleaning was made, you carry her back to the bedroom. 

You don’t even make it past the living room before your legs finally give up. You end up crashing onto the floor together before you both finally call it a night.

—————

“This is your fault you know,” says Hyewon, drawing circles on your chest, over your calm heartbeats. “I’m supposed to be in London tomorrow for my table read. And yet I’m still here. My flight was five hours ago by the way.”

It’s already high noon when you finally regain consciousness, your head still spinning despite not taking more than one alcoholic drink the night before. Hyewon’s doing marginally better, having woken up 30 minutes earlier. No wonder it feels so hot; her body is snuggled up on you, your limbs tangled. Despite the urgency she’s speaking about, she doesn’t seem to be interested in moving any time soon.

At least you’re awake and sensible enough to fire back. “Who’s fault is that? I wasn’t the one inviting you to come over and have you fucked senseless.”

She chuckles into your skin, little ripples forming where her lips are gently pressed. “And I wasn’t the one who spent the last 18 months saying we’re just friends.”

You’re already lying flat on the floor, but the rebuttal only makes you want to get up only to fall back down. So you settle with an expressive sigh. 

Hyewon laughs. It’s what won over millions, including you. You’re taken back to that fateful day you first met. Right then and there, you knew there’d be no one else like her. If given an opportunity to go back and change a few things here and there or, you’d do it over again, mistakes included. Last night was worth all the waiting and teasing. 

“So—about that show,” you lean up, pushing her closer to your face, “What was it again? Something about you being a nymphomaniac? Delete what?”

“You mean Delete This? Let’s not.” 

Mention of the premise alone is enough to set her gummy cheeks on fire. For someone whose career has been built up on mostly more general audience friendly programming, leading a sexual soap opera is quite the jump.  

She buries her head on your neck, embarrassed, feeling guilty. “Yeah. I mean, last night was—different, you know? I’ve shown my tits and body already, but I’ve never had sex—on screen before.”

You should have known. She needed a reason to get in your pants without your working relationship only centering around your bodies. And those were clearly stand-ins based on how her face is never shown during her older scenes.

“Jesus, Hyem. If you wanted to have sex, you could have asked anytime. You have no idea how annoyed I was when they scrapped our scene last minute. It was only you taking off your shirt too.”

“On the bright side, we didn’t have an intimacy director getting in the way, right?”

She does have a point. Still, your personal cold war didn’t need to last 18 months before either of you would make the first move.

But with all that tension a thing of the past, the chains are unfettered. Now both of you have the ability to take this little secret in any direction you desire. You could simply be a workplace couple; it’s been the story of your year so far. Or you could take things a step further. The possibilities are truly endless.

Hyewon’s cheeky grin slowly reforms, her hand snaking up to cup your cheek. “Shame we only had one night. I could spend the rest of the day here, but—” she huffs, “I’m running late. Too bad I won’t get to have this cock for a long, long time.”

You lift an amused eyebrow, barely able to keep your new cockiness from showing. “Will you, though?”

She’s taken completely by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Check your phone.”

After rising to her feet, Hyewon walks over to the console table where her purse is set. Fishing her phone from the handbag, she scrolls through the apps, her attention di–vided between the screen and you on the floor, finally getting up as well. 

Her stare then lingers on the phone, as if whatever headline of the day has caught her attention. 

Next thing you know, she’s grabbing you by the chest, dragging you back to the bedroom before shoving you back onto the mattress—right where you belong. Pinning you down and dead to rights, Hyewon mounts herself on your lap, your cock pressed against her aching core, ready to receive a fresh beating.

Some jokes can go a little too far.

“You fucking asshole. You mean that—”

“Yep.”

“And it’s not—”

“It’s not.”

You can feel her hips slowly grinding against yours. You’re gonna love—and hate—the next 18 months with Hyewon.

“I’m going to kill you. And I mean: kill you.”

“No better way to go out.”

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! That Hyewon dress is so ripe for material, and I had to incorporate her tattoos into it somehow. She doesn't show them quite often—heck, she hasn't publicly addressed them even once, I believe. That little nod at the end is for everyone still waiting for Delete this to return. At this point, a reimagining or remake must happen first before the next actual episode because good God my writing back then versus now is night & day. Even comparing the last update from 2022(?) to today is also radically different in style. I'm still interested in reviving it; it's just a matter of when, not if. Thank you for reading!)

[covid-safer-hotties]

To My Unmasked Friend in the Fifth Year of COVID - By: Anna Holmes - Published Aug 17, 2024

I’m going to be honest with you, because I love you, and you deserve nothing but honesty. I’m going to try really hard not to be angry while I do it, but it’s probably going to slip out every now and again. But I need you to hear me out, all right?

By now, we’ve talked about my reality. My personal struggle with long COVID, the isolation I live in, why I am so angry all the time.

But let’s talk about you. You just went to a big convention overseas. You got on a plane, got a little gussied up, talked shop with some insiders, geeked out over awards and merch, ate, drank, were merry, left with your social cup and your heart full.

You’re a good person. We wouldn’t be friends otherwise! You’d never dream of tripping a person with a red and white cane, using the r-word, excluding a disabled person from an event because of something they can’t help.

You might even acknowledge that the COVID response from governments and organizations has been ableist and inadequate.

But you didn’t wear a mask.

For whatever reason — you wanted to show off your makeup, it makes you itchy, you believed the messaging that COVID is endemic (what does that actually mean?), you just don’t think about it anymore — you made a choice that actively excludes people like me from participating not only in an event like a convention, but society at large. And yes, it is a choice. Every time you step out into the world without a mask on your face, you have made a decision that your very good reason, whatever it is, supersedes the right of disabled and at-risk people to exist safely in your orbit.

Well, hold on, you say. It’s not any one individual’s fault, it’s the inadequate public health messaging. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying?

And I have. In the past, I have talked about how it is unconscionable that health authorities have thrown their hands up and rescinded guidance that would have saved hundreds of thousands of lives and prolonged a pandemic that, to hear them tell it, has been bested. It hasn’t. Worst of all, the financial motivation that we all know is driving this premature victory lap isn’t even being fulfilled. Long COVID and other post-COVID complications are costing the global economy one trillion a year. Meanwhile, article after article handwrings about nobody wanting to work anymore, about the sagging college application scene, about declines in military enlistment, and the strain on our healthcare systems.

All of this is very much the fault of our leaders, who have decided the political ramifications of “normalcy” are more important than the health and lives of the 400 million people living with long COVID across the globe, the immunocompromised folks who are increasingly being shut out of every conceivable public space, and the disabled community which has been screaming into the wind about our marginalization since before the virus even hit US soil.

But I want to be very clear. You are helping them do this.

The reality is that we have been living in this deeply flawed landscape of “personal choice”, and you’ve made yours. You’ve opted not to look into how densely clustered cases are. You’ve stopped listening to your friends who have informed themselves. You’ve given yourself permission to put COVID on the back burner. You’ve earned it, right? Four and a half years of trauma?

COVID doesn’t care if you’re tired of being scared or careful or considerate. COVID is not something you can personally overcome by being smart or virtuous or brave. It is a virus which only seeks to infect and replicate, and it is getting very good at those things. While you’ve looked away, my community has been scrambling to avoid variants that skirt immunity and don’t show up on rapid tests until day five-seven. The constant battle has changed since you were last in it. It’s not sufficient anymore to get your shots and test before a big event. You could well be asymptomatic and infectious, or have symptoms and convinced yourself it can’t be COVID because that second line hasn’t popped up.

You have come to the conclusion sometime between 2022 and now that you just have to decide what level of risk you’re comfortable with and live with it. The problem with that is scale. It’s you and everybody else doing that, and a lot of people have decided they are comfortable with a high level of risk. Despite what you’ve been told, you’re not just making that decision for yourself. You are making it for every person you come in contact with.

Think back to the early tense days of 2020. We were told to select a “bubble.” Those people would be our social lifelines, and through those, we could control our exposure.

My bubble is quite small. It includes my husband, my sister, and two friends I see relatively frequently.

My husband goes to work via the bus, and to the grocery store. Every person he comes in contact with there has the potential to infect him, and then he has the potential to pass it along to me. He mitigates this by wearing a well-fitted respirator at all times.

My sister goes to work at a busy public place. She masks when public facing and takes it off in the back office. She goes to restaurants, bars, concerts, hangs out with friends and her own partner unmasked. About 75% of her interactions have the heightened potential to infect her, which she might then bring into my house when she visits me.

My friends do not mask anywhere except my house when asked. They attend concerts, shows, cons, bars.

Obviously, I am in control of whether I wear a mask around these people. And as we approach one million new cases a day, I will be around everyone but my husband. But science is clear: reciprocal masking is more effective at infection control than a single person masking — especially when that single person is trying to protect themselves, not others.

This is settled science. We’ve known this since 2020. It says clearly that the choice you make is not personal- it has implications for everyone you come in contact with.

And being clear — if I could, I’d make everyone wear a mask for their own health. I don’t want people suffering with what I have. But you’ve been told this lie that you can take your risks for yourself, so you feel comfortable going out without a mask. You’ve been told this lie that it’s possible to completely recover from a COVID infection, so you assume that even if you do catch it, that’s what’ll happen to you, despite evidence showing that every body is indelibly changed by an infection, and that risk only grows with each subsequent infection.

And the greatest lie of all — that only the sick or elderly have anything to fear from COVID — has given you unfounded confidence in your own “good” genes or immune system or fitness. You can get long COVID even if you’re in peak form — in fact, may even be more likely to be hit hard.

So you have decided, individually and collectively, that only the sick or elderly should have to take precautions, and you freewheel through life, only to get surprised and dismayed when you bump into COVID in the wild. It’s back, people declare every summer or winter, as though it ever left.

But I want you to really think about the implications of your choice. Besides yourself. Because let’s be honest here, that’s who you’ve been thinking about, right? Your risk. Your comfort. Never mind your bubble, never mind the bubble of everyone you come into contact with, never mind the people like me who are literally hiding from people like you.

You’re not masking at the doctor’s office. You’re not masking at the airport. You’re not masking at the giant superspreader you just attended, and you’re not masking in the bars and restaurants where we know the virus flourishes. And then you’re bringing that exposure back to your family and friends. Back to the grocery store, where you run across people like my husband, shopping for someone who is unsafe to leave the house, or your elderly neighbors, or an immunocompromised employee.

You’re a good person, or you like to think of yourself that way. That’s why when you’re asked to mask, you dismiss it out of hand — because that changed behavior implies that you’ve been doing something wrong.

And my friend, I’m telling this because I love you: you have been. You might have been doing that on faulty information, but be honest with yourself and with me — you’ve heard me begging people to take this seriously. You’ve seen the information I’ve been sharing. You have had the opportunity to seek out the correct information all along, and you have chosen not to.

It isn’t too late to change your view of the risk you’re imposing on the people around you. It’s not too late to push public health to become more effective. It’s not too late to act in solidarity and be the inclusive person you think you are. It’s not too late to take care of yourself.

Ultimately, that’s what I have been screaming myself hoarse about. I don’t want you to end up with what I have. I don’t want you to inadvertently impose that on someone else. And yes, I’ve been angry, because you’ve been advertising your absolute lack of concern with group shots of your naked faces on social media. It doesn’t seem to bother you that I am stuck at home like it’s 2020, except for doctors’ appointments that I literally have to risk my life to go to. You’ve told yourself that it’s not your problem, because only the sick and elderly have to take precautions.

You know better. You can do better. For your community, yourself, and me, do better.

Please. I love you.

Anna

PS. If you’re feeling upset and embarrassed right now, the best thing you can do is take action. Get yourself good masks (the surgicals and cloth ones don’t cut it anymore), donate to mask blocs so others can access good masks, write to your representatives and the President, comment on upcoming CDC guidance, schedule yourself a booster, and talk to your loved ones about doing better, too. The only way we get out of this is with community care. So care.

[bixels]

Portal 2 is still the perfect game to me. I hyperfixated on it like crazy in middle school. Would sing Want You Gone out loud cuz I had ADHD and no social awareness. Would make fan animations and pixel art. Would explain the ending spoilers and fan theories to anyone who'd listen. Would keep up with DeviantArt posts of the cores as humans. Would find and play community-made maps (Gelocity is insanely fun).

I still can't believe this game came out 12 years ago and it looks like THIS.

Like Mirror's Edge, the timeless art style and economic yet atmospheric lighting means this game will never age. The decision not to include any visible humans (ideas of Doug Rattmann showing up or a human co-op partner were cut) is doing so much legroom too. And the idea to use geometric tileset-like level designs is so smart! I sincerely believe that, by design, no game with a "realistic art style" has looked better than Portal 2.

Do you guys remember when Nvidia released Portal with RTX at it looked like dogshit? Just the most airbrushed crap I've ever seen; completely erased the cold, dry, clinical feel of Aperture.

So many breathtakingly pit-in-your-stomach moments I still think about too. And it's such a unique feeling; I'd describe at as... architectural existentialism? Experiencing the sublime under the shadow of manmade structures (Look up Giovanni Battista Piranesi's art if you're curious)? That scene where you're running from GLaDOS with Wheatley on a catwalk over a bottomless pit and––out of rage and desperation––GLaDOS silently begins tearing her facility apart and Wheatley cries 'She's bringing the whole place down!' and ENORMOUS apartment building-sized blocks begin groaning towards you on suspended rails and cement pillars crumble and sparks fly and the metal catwalk strains and bends and snaps under your feet. And when you finally make it to the safety of a work lift, you look back and watch the facility close its jaws behind you as it screams.

Or the horror of knowing you're already miles underground, and then Wheatley smashes you down an elevator shaft and you realize it goes deeper. That there's a hell under hell, and it's much, much older.

Or how about the moment when you finally claw your way out of Old Aperture, reaching the peak of this underground mountain, only to look up and discover an endless stone ceiling built above you. There's a service door connected to some stairs ahead, but surrounding you is this array of giant, building-sized springs that hold the entire facility up. They stretch on into the fog. You keep climbing.

I love that the facility itself is treated like an android zooid too, a colony of nano-machines and service cores and sentient panel arms and security cameras and more. And now, after thousands of years of neglect, the facility is festering with decomposition and microbes; deer, raccoons, birds. There are ghosts too. You're never alone, even when it's quiet. I wonder what you'd hear if you put your ear up against a test chamber's walls and listened. (I say that all contemplatively, but that's literally an easter egg in the game. You hear a voice.)

Also, a reminder that GLaDOS and Chell are not related and their relationship is meant to be psychosexual. There was a cut bit where GLaDOS would role-play as Chell's jealous housewife and accuse her of seeing other cores in between chambers. And their shared struggle for freedom and control? GLaDOS realizing, after remembering her past life, that she's become the abuser and deciding that she has the power to stop? That even if she can't be free, she can let Chell go because she hates her. And she loves her. Most people interpret GLaDOS "deleting Caroline in her brain" as an ominous sign, that she's forgetting her human roots and becoming "fully robot." But to me, it's a sign of hope for GLaDOS. She's relieving herself of the baggage that has defined her very existence, she's letting Caroline finally rest, and she's allowing herself to grow beyond what Cave and Aperture and the scientists defined her to be. The fact that GLaDOS still lets you go after deleting Caroline proves this. She doesn't double-back or change her mind like Wheatley did, she sticks to her word because she knows who she is. No one and nothing can influence her because she's in control. GLaDOS proves she's capable of empathy and mercy and change, human or not.

That's my retrospective, I love this game to bits. I wish I could experience it for the first time again.

[biceratops7]

I’m gonna SCREAM-

We’ve already established as a fandom that Metatron could teach a masterclass on gas lighting, but I wanna talk about how he specifically validates the things Aziraphale cares for while simultaneously devaluing them under the surface.

First off, this moment?

Tells us everything we need to know. It sets the scene for exactly the games Metatron is playing. He makes Muriel feel important while openly insulting them (flat out calling them stupid), aka seamlessly reinforcing the idea that they’re less than to both them and anyone else in the room. He knows he can get away with this easily, he knows that Muriel, lonely, overlooked little Muriel, will be completely distracted by the fact that someone so important is taking an interest in them.

This is already horribly clever, but then later on you realize it’s doing even MORE heavy lifting when he appoints Muriel to run the bookshop. “See? What’s important to you is what’s important to me! I’ve graciously taken the time to ensure your beloved shop is looked after by Muriel. You know, the dim one!” …let’s suffice it to say he’s ensnared too birds with one net for this one, and that a pattern is already starting to arise.

So when Metatron says Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he’s a “natural leader” and “doesn’t just tell people what they wanna hear”? Yah he’s full of shit. Aziraphale struggles with his sense of purpose when he doesn’t have someone or something guiding him, and for thousands of years he’s been terrified of sharing his true feelings and opinions to 90% of people he’s known. Completely just trying to butter him up. Wanna know the real reason Gabriel seeks asylum with Aziraphale?

Exactly this. Gabriel just says so point blank. It’s not because Aziraphale is this person for him, it’s because despite knowing nothing, he has this instinct that Aziraphale is the only one who can possibly understand why Gabriel did what he did. He is, I mean as far as we know, the only other angel who has fallen in love. (In general, let alone with a demon.)

But nope, can’t have that. We can throw the promise of restoring Crowley in the mix to sweeten the pot, but we can’t acknowledge why he’d want that so badly in the first place. So now it’s cause they work so well together. We can praise the angel for the fallen archangel Gabriel himself coming to him protection and guidance, give him a gold star. But we couldn’t DARE imply that it was by virtue of Aziraphale’s courage to choose earthly love over heavenly. How Gabriel didn’t need a leader, but a friend who’s truly known the joys of adoring that “particular person” and the pain of needing to hide it.

Cause then Aziraphale would start getting crazy ideas, like that his silly little human feelings have a great deal of worth. That they have the power to inspire, form cracks in the institution, fundamentally weaken what has controlled and harmed him. We wouldn’t want him to know the true value of the cards he holds when he has the ace in a match against you, now would we? After all…

Metatron uses this ingeniously sinister tactic of taking away Aziraphale’s choice while giving the illusion that he’s actually opening up doors. Notice how he tells Aziraphale he would have the authority to do something as extraordinary as turn a demon into an angel, yet he never once puts the much simpler alternative of just working with a demon on the table? The sleight of hand here is that he’s being offered the opportunity to freely be with Crowley… but he’s already freely with him as is, no bargain to be made. In fact he fought to be. Metatron disappears this accomplishment right before our eyes, while seamlessly maintaining the illusion to Aziraphale that he (Zira) is in control.

He sets Aziraphale up for failure by only providing the option he knows Crowley will not only decline but be deeply hurt by. It’s all so cleverly planned. Once this plays out exactly how he wants, he delivers the finishing blow by diminishing Crowley and his “damned fool questions”. Suddenly doing a complete 180 and emphasizing how foolish and troublesome he is. Metatron was offering Crowley by Aziraphale’s side as The Carrot. Now he’s telling Aziraphale it was stupid of him to want The Carrot, un-heavenly.

Aziraphale’s life, love, happiness, it’s all not only a massive inconvenience for Metatron but a liability. He has successfully taken a weapon from Aziraphale’s hands he didn’t even know he had. Metatron sees the writing on the wall, and he wants it contained.

[axolartandfics]

TRANSFORMERS PRIME RANT

content warning: discussions of physical/psychological abuse

I’m going to try to write a rant but we’ll see how good I am at stringing my words together.

I love Transformers Prime with my whole heart, particularly Starscream, and despite and because of this, I don’t like the way his character plays out in season three.

After Starscream rejoins the decepticons at the end of season two, the abuse he receives from Megatron gets way worse. Megatron physically beat Starscream quite often in season one, and as season three progresses, this treatment is on full display and gets so much worse. And these abuse scenes are genuinely horrible and upsetting. Megatron physically dominates Starscream, who is much smaller and thinner, and the show spends a lot of time emphasizing his fear and screams as Megatron beats him.

Alongside Starscream’s abuse getting worse, he also gets significant Stockholm syndrome in season three, which makes the whole situation one thousand times ickier. While in season one Starscream tried to usurp and fight back against Megatron, now he looks up to the person who is actively and regularly beating him half to death.

But there’s nothing wrong with depicting a toxic character dynamic, it’s how the narrative frames it that matters.

Starscream gets treated worse by Megatron while thinking better of him as the show goes on. And the only people we get to see this ugly situation through the eyes of are Starscream and Megatron, who both think this is fine in one way or another.

We never get to see any other character acknowledge the abusive relationship. The autobots are totally oblivious or totally uncaring that it’s happening, and you can bet the other Decepticons aren’t going to do anything about it. Even after Megatron leaves behind his goal of oppression, he shows no regret of how he’d treated Starscream, the person who he had arguably made suffer the most. He just shouts at him and makes him flinch one last time then abandons him. He continues to mistreat him then leaves him behind. Leaves behind the person who he had physically and psychologically destroyed for thousands if not millions of years. Although I don’t expect Megatron to show sympathy for Starscream, since his ‘redemption’ was just him retiring and leaving everyone else to clean up the mess he made. (I have good and bad feelings on Megatron’s ending, but I don’t want to get too sidetracked)

What matters is, without Megatron acknowledging the horribleness of the situation, and without the autobots being aware of it, the only person who can acknowledge how toxic the situation was is Starscream.

But he doesn’t get this chance. His arc ends when the Predacons beat him up for revenge.

Starscream is an abuse victim, and he is never given a chance to heal. No character, himself included, ever fully acknowledges how problematic the situation is. He is never given a chance to be powerful. Over and over again he is forced to be weak and without agency. From the start of season three to the end of the movie, his character is a slow trickle into suffering more and more, being beaten down again and again until he doesn’t get back up.

When watching the show, I was fine with the amount of frightening abuse they were depicting on screen because I thought they would have some amount of healing from it. But it just gets worse and worse until the show ends and that’s it. It just feels like abuse for the sake of abuse at this point.

But the thing is, I’m not even opposed to Starscream having a bad ending. Let me explain.

I think it makes sense after him being conniving and evil and power hungry and cruel for his actions to catch up for him, and for him to be humbled in one way or another.

The thing is, they depicted Starscream’s fall to shame without ever giving him a moment of power. There’s no climax in season three where he takes control of his life again. There’s no moment where he gets to be more than humiliated and shamed.

Starscream is a victim, and he’s an abuser as well. He treats everyone around him horribly. He is a perpetuator of the cycle of abuse, where, after being abused by Megatron and others, he started to replicate their cruelty in order to have power.

The story needed to recognize him as both an abuser and a victim. It seemed to think these cancel out. That Starscream being beat by the Predacons in the end is the consequence of his abusive actions towards others coming back to haunt him. But just as a middle school bully doesn’t deserve to go home and be bullied by their sibling, an abuser does not deserve to be abused by another person. No one deserves to be abused.

Starscream being abused doesn’t pay for his crimes. And he isn’t just being humbled for treating the predacons badly; he’s being tortured.

As an abuser, Starscream deserved to see the consequences of his actions in some way, but as a victim, Starscream deserved any kind of moment of victory.

All this to say, this isn’t about wether or not Starscream deserved to be beat by the predacons (although I maintain that we should have better mindsets about paying for our crimes than “abusers deserve abuse”). This is about the fact that he deserved to see a shred of honor before his fall as well.

This is about the fact that as an abuse victim, he is given not a shred of dignity or an acknowledgment of his pain. His descent in season three isn’t even a character arc. There’s no growth, no resolution, no rising or falling climax. Like I said before, it’s just him suffering over and over, until the series ends.

Starscream is perhaps a good, although tragic, depiction of an abuser: a character who treats others poorly until it finally catches up to him. But he is a bad and problematic depiction of a victim: someone who never gets to be seen, even by himself.

[fawninthesnow]

𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝 & 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝: PT 2, Scales & Weights

Lucius Verus x fem!

Summary: Former Gladiator, Emperor Lucius, takes his rightful property-- the wife of his conquered enemy.

Warnings/Contains: fem character, slow burn, f4m, smut, unprotected sex, spit as lube, cock warming, public hum!l!, h@nd jobs, no proofreading, etc

a/n: slowburn warning!

More on my Master list!

follow & like pls

“Well.”

“I hope I didn’t disturb your rest too harshly. We are only a few hours from the palace.” She hummed with acknowledgement, looking out at the fields of olive trees and barren grass. Animals crossed their path as did the occasional commoner, praising and thanking the emperor for bringing peace to the land.

“What will be my purpose?” The woman asked, a solemn expression in her eyes and a frown on her lips.

“I have yet to think it over.” She frowned and looked behind them at the tens of men on horseback. “They're happy, don't worry.”

“And how do you know that?”

“They are headed home, that is why.” There was a moment of silence between them. “You believe me to be a liar?”

“No, my Emperor. May gods rest his soul…but I was once a slave to the Emperor Geta.” He frowned, “…two years ago, I was brought to this city in chains. Nothing has changed.”

“This city is different, very different from when the twins ruled. Might I add, you are no longer in chains.”

“I don’t believe that to be true.” She said softly, watching children splash in the fountain at the city entrance. A young girl of a honey complexion splashed water towards the guards and emperor. For a short second, she paused, her fingertips dripped water onto the smooth, hot pavers. She stared curiously at the woman behind the emperor’s back.

As the campaign of men entered, crowds of hundreds and thousands surrounded the men, tossing petals, spices, dyes, food and even undergarments. The young woman concealed her face with a head wrap and bowed her head behind the emperor. Shouts and screams came from every direction. Music played loudly for all the city to hear; some people even danced about in circles. When they arrived at the city steps, the emperor stepped off his horse and helped the young woman and her child off. “Watch your step.” He said, walking ahead of her to greet the senate. He waved at the people, sending his blessing to them before marching into the palace.

Without a second passing, the man was greeted by his servants. He removed his armor and unsheathed his sword. “Take her to the bath in my quarters, then leave her there.” They took his clothes and guided him to the bath.

The young woman held onto her child as the servants guided her down a different hall. She admired the tall ceilings. The floors are adorned with intricate mosaics, depicting elaborate scenes of mythology, nature, or battles. Surrounding the atrium past the entrance, the walls are richly decorated with frescoes, showcasing vibrant colors and complex patterns. Scenes from daily life, gods and goddesses, as well as mythological tales. In every room, tall columns, made of marble stood strong, only making her feel smaller. When they entered the emperor’s quarters, she was led to an outside bath, it steamed and was full of soapy bubbles. Along the sides, bowls and bottles of soaps, oils and flower petals.

One of the servants offered their hands out to lay the child down. “No. Do you have a cradle? I want her beside me.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Although she soaked in the water, she watched her child in the large cradle, protected from bugs with netting. Time passed as she relaxed, her eyes fluttering closed.

The sun began to set over across the empire, a wine red and hazel orange. The emperor slowly walked over to the woman, stroking her fluffy hair that his fingers got tangled in. He smiled at the flowers in her curls. Each petal seemed to fall off its stem as his fingertips grazed them. She jumped awake, covering her bosom instinctively. “Calm down, calm down. You fell asleep.” He offered her a robe and turned around. She rose from the milky water and tied the robe around her. “The uhh, the palace children, they wanted to welcome you, but you were sleeping.” He gestured to the flowers in her hair.

“They are kind.” She looked around for her infant who was once in the cradle—

“She has been changed and fed…she is now asleep in your quarters. Yasmeen, she’s lovely when awake.” The panicked woman calmed her breathing, “Please get dressed.”

“Would you excuse me?”

“Of course.” Lucius left his quarters. She looked at the blue dress with gold ribbons to lap around her bosom and waist, as well as a thin, pale blue shawl for her head and shoulders. In a dish beside the clothes were gold jewels and hair accessories. She brought the shawl over to cover her eyes to conceal what bit of identity she had to hide and left the bedroom, her curly hair flowing beneath the cover. The emperor met her in the hallway, standing over her. “You look…healthy.”

The young woman dismissed his awkwardness and looked around in search for her daughter. “…Yasmeen.” She said softly as if calling her into her slim arms.

“Right, she’s right this way.”

In a room in the middle of the palace, children giggle, some sleep and other play. Women in white togas watched after the boys and girls. As the two entered, the women, as well as the olden children, bowed to the emperor. On the lap of a woman with braids down her sides, Yasmeen played with wooden beads. Upon seeing her mother, the girl reached out, nearly whining for her attention and embrace. She thanked the woman before taking the girl into her arms.

When the young woman turned around, the emperor was gone. “Emperor? My Lord?” The women in the room continued to watch after the children, speaking in their foreign tongue. Outside the door, she called out for him again. “Emperor?” After a moment of silence in the halls, she closed her lips.

Barefooted, and silent, the young woman explored the palace. Without knowing her, staff would bow, seeing her in the Emperor’s blue. She pushed open large doors that led to chambers, lounging spaces, and meeting rooms. She wondered her way downstairs and outside to a courtyard of flowers, greenery and sculptures of men and women in the nude. She would her way to the center of the south courtyard. There, a large, marble fountain cascading water from each tier pool.

“Stupid thing!” The voice of a boy spat loudly. The young woman turned, her eyebrows tilted downward her eyes. “Stop moving!” She curiously went around the maze of plants to the sound of his voice. “Oww!”

His back was to her as he crouched on the ground, his toga loose and filthy from its original warm orange and yellow. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“Ahh!” He jumped from her and hissed.

“My gods!” She stepped back from him. When he moved from the way, she noticed the two animals at his feet. A monkey and a hedgehog.

“Leave me alone!” He said without looking at her, plucking quails from his legs. She kneeled beside him and helped to take the quails out before wrapping his bleeding calve with her head scarf. “Who are you?”

“My name is [].”

“I’ve never seen you before.” The monkey jumped on his shoulder, eating nuts and seeds from his pocket.

“What are your intentions? Because it seems you are here to just hurt yourself.”

“No! I’m a scholar.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! And I am experimenting.” She tilted her head. “A monkey-hedgehog? Tsk, isn’t it obvious? How come no one’s ever thought of that? It would be so cool! A monkey with spikes upon its back! Or even a soft hedgehog!” He looked around, “Where did the hedgehog beast go?! Small but fast! Perfect qualities!”

“Yes, you’re very smart but…I don’t think it’s even mating season.”

The boy gasped, “Youre right! Haha…when is mating season?”

The young woman shrugged, pretending not to know in order to protect the rest of the animals in the garden. “Is that your monkey?”

“Yes, yes, it is.”

“Does it have a name?”

“I call it stupid.”

She frowned, “That is not very nice. You should come up with a respectable name.”

“Nuen is his actual name.” The boy laughed at the woman. “Why are you holding a baby?”

“This is my child, Yasmeen.”

“But why are you holding her? There are people here that do that kinda stuff.” He playfully held his monkey as she did her daughter.

“Do women do not tend to their children here?”

“Huh? Tend? I dunno. I guess I have never seen a woman in Emperor’s blue carrying one of them.”

“What is emperor’s blue?”

The boy scrunched his face in confusion and disgust. “Obviously, it’s what you are wearing.”

“I know that. What does it mean?” He sighed loudly, his hand went to his hip, “You are mighty flamboyant…your attitude is one for the history books.”

“Haha! Every emperor’s color represents them. If you are given the color to wear, it means a lot! No one is allowed to make or buy it. It is given. Better?”

“Yes. What is your name?”

“Gallus! Lord Gallus!”

“Well, it was nice speaking with you, Lord Gallus…and Nuen.”

“Bye!” He waved as she made her way back inside the palace.

She lay across a loveseat, playing with Yasmeen’s hands. The girl babbled to herself, placing her hands on her mother’s face. “Are you trying to hide me? Is that right?” Yasmeen giggled and continued to play with her mother’s features. With her small fingers in her mother’s curls, the girl raised then dropped her hands.

“My Lady? The emperor requests your presence at the Pantheon.” The woman stood. “We will escort you there by lectica.”

Pt 2: End <3

More on my Master list!

follow & like pls

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

"Maybe someday I'll be that guy for you" this line just broke my heart. Why did he have to be so nice about it lol. Can you write a part 2 where he actually start noticing her like that? Like really starting to like her?

steve’s pov (might not be exactly what you asked for)

he still feels his heart lurch whenever he notices that dulled look hiding in your gaze. you try to hide it with a smile in his direction but it doesn’t properly meet your eyes. you don’t go out of your way to find his company you let him come to you, keeping a distance for either of you or just your heart.

it’s not like you’ve completely iced him out, but it’s different now. and steve really fucking hates that, but what’s he supposed to do? he didn’t want you to get your hopes up and so he told the truth, you deserve someone thousand times better than him. and that’s now caused your friendship to sail on rocky waters.

“stop staring at them, it’s creepy.” he startled slightly from the voice behind him, looking over his shoulder to see robin with her eyes stuck in a book at the small break table. he pretended to busy himself, “i wasn’t staring, just zoned out.”

robin hummed, “you seem to be doing that more then usual these days. got a specific thing on your mind? like, oh, i don’t know, breaking y/n’s heart.” she tried to sound nonchalant, but steve could hear the bitter rage spilling through her words.

he sighed as his chin dipped to his chest, “i-i didn’t mean, or try, to break their heart. i-i just wanted to be realistic with them, and also, you don’t think that hurt me to do? i never want to hurt them, it fucking sucked to see them curl away from me. i-i just want my friend back.” he whispered the last part to himself.

“steve,” robin called his named and he looked over his shoulder to see her book closed and tapping her palm on the table. he slowly pulled the second chair closer and rested his elbows on the table.

robin rubbed both palms over her freckled face, “okay, what i’m about to tell you is doctor patient confidentiality. i will give you the worst haircut if any of this information slips from your mouth, got it?” her blue eyes widen. steve just nodded along, planning to lock away all sharp objects.

“they have liked you since freshman year, so it’s been like four plus years of them just gazing at your passing figure in the hall to now working along side you. they were the first to mention to me how you’ve slowly changed in the last year and a half, from being king douchebag to ice cream sailor. they could not stop gushing about any little interaction the two of you had, dissecting the scene until there was nothing left to inspect. so they came up to me the day after the… incident, with tears welling and wetly laughing as they said, “i think i like him more than i expected. probably just felt my first experience of mild heartbreak.” and i’m pretty sure it was more than mild. so what i’m trying to get at is, they’ll need time to heal, and i’m not sure whatever is going on inside harrington land. but just make sure you properly evaluate and think through before taking any further steps.”

then robin had the gull to leave steve in the back room with his screaming mind and pounding heart, and if things couldn’t get worse, the saloon doors pushed in to show you entering with a bag from hot dog on a stick.

“oh… hey,” hesitant. he saw the way your conversed shoes shifted and bent, debating if you wanted to stay or make a run for it. steve made the decision for you and stood from his seat, “uh, i-i should probably-“

“no, no. stay, if-if you can. i got you some fries, figured you’d be a bit hungry before your actual lunch.” your fingers curled tight around the white paper bag, the crinkling sounding like lightning.

steve was sure he had a bit of a surprised expression on his face, “you-you didn’t have to do that.”

you took robin’s spot while shrugging your shoulders with a twisted smile, “we do it for each other all the time. just thought of you and figured you didn’t eat anything before coming into work.” sliding a cup of medium fries and even a small coke can.

a smile lifted the corners of steve’s lips, “robin’s right.” he noted the way your brows twitched at that, “you’re a saint from heaven meant to be the one good person on this shitty earth.”

“that’s must explain why i get hurt so much.”

steve squeezed his eyes shut, fuck.

[sai-int]

a little depressed right now. my coping mechanism is to make people cry through writing. enjoy a blurb about pieceofshit!simon x reader

cw: emotional abuse, manipulation, cheating, stream of consciousness blurb, angst (duh)

You remember his birthday like it was yesterday, even though it feels like a lifetime ago. The way he kissed her—warm and familiar, pressing into her like you never existed. You weren’t even a thought in his mind, just a shadow in the background of a scene you had no place in.

It was a second of nothingness for him, but for you, it felt like a year of every mistake you’d ever made. It wasn’t me, you tell yourself, over and over, but it feels like a lie you can’t escape. It wasn’t me. You want to scream it, to tear yourself apart for not being enough for him.

But he’s a winner, right? Simon’s always been a winner. It doesn’t matter what happens, what he does, or how far he goes—he’ll always be the one that gets his way, always the one who walks away unscathed. You wonder, How much more can I give before there’s nothing left to take? You wonder if he’ll notice when you’re wrung dry.

Sometimes, he cries about feeling empty, about needing more, but not from you. Not in the way you needed him. Why is everything about you, Simon? Why does it always have to come back to you?

Even when it’s just the two of you, the silence between you louder than anything he’s ever said, it’s always about him. His anger. His confusion. His need for control. His coldness. His distance. You think you can fix it, but you can’t. You can’t fix him. You can’t fix yourself.

You watch him walk too close to the road, just like you always have. He walks on the edge like he’s daring you to stop him, daring you to save him from an inevitable fate. But you never stop him. You wonder if he even wants to be saved. You wonder if he’s just waiting for you to give up, waiting for you to walk away so he can be the one who lets go first. And God, how much longer can you stand here, loving someone who doesn’t want know how to love you back?

You feel sick when he touches you now. His hands, once so soft, now feel like needles in your skin, pulling at your soul until it’s raw. But you crave it anyway. You crave it because it’s all you have left. You don’t even know if he’s angry with you, if he’s disappointed in you, if you’ve pushed him too far. What did I ever do to make him so fucking angry?

Where’s your heart at, Simon, you want to scream, When your hands are all over me? But you’re scared to ask. Scared to hear the answer. What if it’s true? That he never cared? That you were just something to pass the time, something to fill the silence?

You feel cold, so cold, like he’s already gone and you’re still here, stuck in this room, stuck in this memory, wondering where it all went wrong.

You can’t stop thinking about how he made you believe. He made you believe you were enough. He made you believe that maybe, just maybe, you could fix him. But he was lying. Lying about who he was, who he wanted, and what he needed. He lied to you until you were empty, and now you’re left with nothing but the hollow ache of everything you thought you had with him.

You still hear them in your mind—whispers of promises he made, of the things he swore he’d do, the love he said he’d give you. He claimed his palms would hold a feast, but when he opened them, they held mere crumbs. You licked them clean anyway because you couldn't bite the hand that fed.

The truth is so fucking cruel, isn’t it? Is it something I did? Did I ruin it? You’ve asked yourself that question a thousand times, and you’re no closer to an answer.

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because you’re here and he’s gone.

And you’re still lapping at the crumbs he left on his way out the door. Starving.

mlist

[dramaaddict]

The Blossoming Love

This is a rant post coz the promotions for The Blossoming Love SUCKS SO BAD. Starting with that title which is so generic and basic with both most overused words in cdrama titles 'Blossom' and 'Love'. The direct translation for Chinese title is "Thousands of peach blossoms bloom forever" which in my opinion is still not very good but it's longer and most importantly DISTINCT.

And then the posters. I'm pretty sure I've seen this exact same type of posters for other dramas. Nothing about these posters are appealing to me. I even thought the first one was a poster from another drama of his coz look.

The latest released poster and the photo shoot they did are so much better. I think it has something to do with the colors but I'm not an expert so I can't say for sure.

If they just want to show the vibe of the earlier parts, a poster like this

or if they can't add in a kiss in the poster coz you never know with Chinese censors something like this would work too instead of those.

AND THEN THE TRAILER. I've seen people watch it and saying it's just another "Journey of the Flower" type drama (understandably) but it makes me wanna scream IT'S NOT DON'T COMPARE MY XXC TO THAT WIMP. But the trailer sucks so bad if I just saw this first I wouldn't be interested too. Like who made this atrocity, I just wanna have a talk.

Another problem is people watching just the first few episodes and judging the whole drama based on them. It's just sad. TBF, If I haven't already seen the posts from @dangermousie and @fake-married-my-dead-fiance (Thank you guys so much) I too would have thought it's another generic Xianxia with so call "Righteous" ML (who is actually just a hypocrite and a coward who judge other based on their identities instead of their actions or don't dare go against traditions/others and never even question "the righteous way" when he clearly knows it's anything but that.) And this type of MLs disgust me the most even more than someone like Li Cheng Yin. (OP gods who aren't allowed to feel are another type although they're not bad just frustrating which Shen Li made it work last year.) That's why the "Good Guy" MLs have always repelled me in Xianxia but this drama makes it work. This is the first time I find the Righteousness of the ML extremely attractive.

Tell me how to not fall for this.

This drama don't have big names with large fandoms backing them while airing at the same time as THREE other dramas with traffic stars in them. Youku don't do anything to promote it properly either.

I want to see more posts about this drama, people discussing it, posting about specific scenes or drama watching threads but it's really difficult to find since so few are watching this. I won't blame it if you truly don't enjoy it since everyone don't have the same taste but please at least give it a chance. You can even watch it by ffing. If you still aren't sure and don't mind the spoilers check out @dangermousie and @fake-married-my-dead-fiance posts about this.

P.S- This is the exact scene that convinced me that I'm 100% going to love this drama and it's in ep 1 btw.

Disclaimer: I'm not a good writer and this post is not very organized coz it was a sudden impulse. I just wanted to write out my frustrations after seeing a video about it.

Update: This trailer also sucks.

[sukunarii]

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader Warning: (Spoiler from chapter 216!)

Synopsis: (Name) was kidnapped by Yorozu

A/N: It's been a while oops, but I was suddenly inspired to write this fanfic after rereading all the Sukuna scenes. Everything that Sukuna has done lately in the manga and Shibuya in anime coming soon too, no words can express how happy I am 😍😍

“Oh dear, you’ve switched skins? Why don’t you change your face back?”

Sukuna was unamused and ignored her, “Yorozu, where is (Name)?”

“How cruel Sukuna, you’re finally reunited with your future wife after a thousand years and you’re asking about another girl?”, Yorozu taunts back but clearly bitter by the King of Curses’s reaction.

Sukuna was starting to grow impatient, he has no interest in Yorozu’s antics and without a warning, he attacks Yorozu. With his incredible speed, he appears right before her in a split second and lands a solid kick on her torso which sends her flying backwards but she manages to stay on her feet.

“What do you want, Yorozu”, he calls out to her.

Yorozu appears barely affected by the kick and sticks her tongue out, “Bleh, You know what I want. I want to be the one who kills you and I want you to be the one who kills me. This is true love. And if you’re alive after I win, you will let me be your wife.”

“Whatever you want,” Sukuna says, “If I lose that means I am dead and didn’t protect (Name). If that happens it doesn’t matter what you do with a corpse.”

“I heard you say it!” Yorozu’s lips twitches up in an evil smile, “I’ll be your true wife, you will marry me then I will dispose of that annoying girl, maybe cut her up bit by bit and make her unrecognizable later.”

“Later? Do you really think you’ll still be around?”, Sukuna says, rage clearly in his eyes. No one talks about his (Name) like this, especially not to his face. But the King of Curses keeps his composure and despite his anger, a smirk finds its way on his face. Sukuna bends down and makes the hand sign of a dog “Divine dog” he summons.

From the shadows, the shape of multiple dogs takes form and charges towards Yorozu. Yorozu dodges them and tries to counterattack Sukuna but her attack fails to reach him.

“What is this?” Yorozu shouts with anger, “This isn’t your cursed technique! You think you can beat me without Malevolent Shrine?”

“No I won’t use that. I won’t need it,” Sukuna replies.

Yorozu was pissed, “Fine. I will give you (Name).”

Yorozu effortlessly jumps up to the top of a light pole to distance herself from Sukuna. She pulls out a cube from her robe and makes the hand signs to unseal it. Suddenly the cube emits a shadow and (Name) appears. Yorozu holds (Name) by her neck, hanging her mid air and her feet frantically kicks trying to get herself free, “Still not going to use Shrine?”, Yorozu calls out to Sukuna while her grip on (Name)’s neck tightens.

In a quick motion, Sukuna lunges towards Yorozu and punches her but Yorozu jumps off from the light pole while hands still gripping (Name). However, she notices that Sukuna has already summoned Round Deer which is waiting to attack Yorozu from the ground. Swiftly she let’s go of (Name), and the girl screams as she falls. Yorozu sends a wave of attack, aiming it to where (Name) will land to ensure that the girl will be finished.

(Name) closes her eyes, readying herself for the fall but instead, she falls into a warm and familiar embrace.

“(Name), I’m sorry I was late,” Sukuna says.

(Name) opens her eyes to see that she is safe in Sukuna’s arms. However, it seems that the last attack Yorozu sent hit Sukuna as there’s a deep wound on his shoulder, he used himself to shield (Name). But Sukuna was not concerned by it at all.

“You have a cut on your beautiful face,” he says while looking at (Name) and he passes his hands over the cut and uses reverse curse technique to easily heal it up.

“Sukuna, I’m sorry I was careless,” (Name) starts.

“Shhh,” Sukuna shushes her, “Let’s go home.”

Behind them, Yorozu interrupts the couple, clearly jealous, “Where do you think you’re going Sukuna? This fight isn’t over yet. I am going to be your wife, I am going to be the one who will show you what love is. Who is she to you anyways?”

Sukuna doesn’t bother turning back to look at Yorozu. His eyes are fixed on (Name) in his arms, “She is my queen.”

“Haa?”, Yorozu calls out, pissed, “I’m gonna fucking kill her then kill you, I won't allow any mistresses in this marriage,” Yorozu shouts as she charges at them.

Sukuna doesn't seem to care. His attention is already removed from Yorozu. With (Name) still his arms, she is the only person in his world. He has no interest in giving any more of his time to Yorozu.

Sukuna, mumbles, “With this treasure, I summon…”

Mahoraga appears from the shadows and towers in front of Yorozu. "You're gonna use this to finish me off? How dare you Sukuna!" Yorozu shouts at him as she engages in battle with the Shikigami but she is no match for Mahoraga's powers. She screams and pleads while getting defeated by Mahoraga but it all fell to deaf ears.

(Name) still in Sukuna's arms, quietly says “You don't have to carry me Sukuna, I can still walk.”

“My queen should rest,” Sukuna replies and gives her a soft kiss on her forehead, “I’m never letting you go.”

Being the King of Curses, Sukuna has attracted a lot of admirers. But he was indifferent to all of them. The only person he cares about other than himself is (Name), his queen.

[sapphiresaphics]

I wanna talk about how DEEP the lore of League of Legends actually is. Because while some people might be confused by the events of some things that happened in Season 2 of Arcane, the series itself is less so pulling from our own earthly history, but instead that of the history of Runeterra.

Let me tell you about the tale of Azir:

“The youngest and least-favored son of the Shuriman emperor, Azir was never destined for greatness. He was a slender, studious boy who spent more time perusing the texts collected in the Great Library of Nasus than training to fight.”

Azir befriends a slave and the two of them bond over their love of ancient texts and magic. Eventually Azir is so enamored with his slave friend that he names him Xerath and appoints him to be his closest adviser.

After a series of cataclysmic events that resulted in Azir being in a position to become the new emperor, Xerath convinced him that “to stand as ruler over the entire world, Azir would need to be all but invincible, a god amongst men – an Ascended being.”

Azir agrees to undertake a dangerous ascension ritual, unaware that Xerath has actually been studying the dark arts and was seething with jealousy, hatred, and rage for being a slave.

“At the height of the ritual, the former slave unleashed his powers and Azir was blasted from his place on the dais. Without the protection of the runic circle, Azir was consumed by the sun’s fire as Xerath took his place. The light filled Xerath with power, and he roared as his mortal body began to transform.”

“But the magic of the ritual was not intended for Xerath, and such awesomely powerful celestial energies could not be diverted without dire consequence. The power of the Ascension ritual exploded outward, devastating Shurima and laying waste to the city. All that remained of Azir’s city were sunken ruins and echoes of its people’s screams on the night winds.”

“Azir saw none of this. For him, all was nothingness. His last memories were of pain and fire; he knew nothing of what befell him atop the temple, nor what became of his empire. He remained lost in timeless oblivion until, thousands of years after Shurima’s doom, the blood of his last descendant spilled onto the temple ruins and resurrected him. Azir was reborn, but was yet incomplete; his body little more than animate dust given form, held together by the last vestiges of his indomitable will.”

Azir comes across a woman who was stabbed. By using his powers he is able to resurrect her and heal her of her wounds.

“And with that act of selflessness, Azir was lifted up in a column of fire as the magic of Shurima renewed him, remaking him as the Ascended being he was meant to become. The sun’s immortal radiance poured into him, crafting his magnificent, hawk-armored form and granting him the power to command the very sand itself.”

“With the power and prescience of an Ascended being, Azir summoned an army of sand warriors to march alongside their reborn emperor saying; “I will reclaim my lands and take back what was mine!””

———

I had to edit a lot of that down and find respective screenshots that emulate the scenes that were being referenced… but I wanted to do this because I think it helps explain some of the stuff going on in Arcane.

Arcane is VERY MUCH drawing from its own lore and history of Runeterra. When you start digging into the lore you’ll start seeing these direct parallels and references, and some of the oddities start to make sense. I know we like to joke about Viktor being hextech Jesus, but his arc and storyline more closely resembles that of Azir than of Jesus.

League of Legends lore is FILLED with stories like this. Stories that are referenced by Arcane in many subtle ways that won’t be obvious to outsiders. This stuff runs DEEP, and the creators of Arcane know the lore enough to use it to tell their own stories with it as a guideline and reference.

Additionally it’s helpful to know that magic in League of Legends lore is a sentient thing that corrupts and WANTS to be used. This is why Heimerdinger hypothesizes that mages who use the Arcane magic often go astray and that this temptation to use the magic to commit world ending cataclysms “might be a property of the Arcane itself.”

As Rise says:

"Magic wants to be used, It is all around us, emanating from the first fragments of creation. It wants to be wielded. And that is the true challenge on the path we both walk. When you realize what the magic wants, how eager it is... Well, then the difficulty isn't how to begin wielding it. It's knowing when to stop."

Arcane tells the story of Viktor, a weak boy who makes a friend over their shared interest in studying and learning. Who goes through a metamorphosis after a cataclysmic event, saves people with his benevolence and newfound power, is ultimately betrayed and killed by his closest friend, and is resurrected through the use of (Warwick’s) determination and will to live, reborn into a godly figure who can control armies of his followers.

[shimylli]

So after some time to think about it, I will share my own though on Solavellan ending in Dragon Age The Veilguard, so SPOILER ahead.

ON ROOK AND SOLAS

First I would like to share a bit about them, because I really enjoyed their dynamics on the game.

« – Letting the veil collapse... – ... Is what you want. Making amend isn't about what you want. »

I wish so bad those words, and the whole cinematic would have been from my Inquisitor perspective. That she could be the one angry, and also saying the right word, she derseved it, after all this time.

But I am not angry at all, because like I said, I enjoy Rook and Solas relationship.

Solas treat Rook the way he would have never treated Lavellan. There is such a cruelty in trapping someone in an eternal and lonely prison, and Rook - specially if you play it as a supportive and forgiveful one - is one of the least to deserve it.

Rook see the manipulative, abusive and cruel side of the Trickser god. Solas never really let is guard down this time, He doesn't allow it considering how close he was to stop everything by the time of Inquisition.

Rook forgiving and believing in Solas, still, despite everything he has done to her, was also really impactful and satisfying. And for Solas, it was the first step through healing.

INQUISITOR INTERVENTION

As he still proceed on his plan, he hear the voice of the Inquisitor, and turn so fast.

It is so hearbeaking, and after all this time, he still calls her " Vhenan ".

And for her, he lets his guard down, again.

« – You think you've come too far to come back, but you're wrong. »

Lavellan plays a really mature and forgiving part, and I think it makes sense. In Inquisition, I played an angry Lavellan, the one who scream in elvish and then say " I would have had you trust me " while angrily entering his personal space. But it has been 10 years, and like us, she had time to think about it, to take distance and make peace about their relationship.

Solas is looking for every way to proove that he is undeserving of her forgiveness, give many excuses.

«– I forgive you ! »

I was so happy about the Voice Acting, when Lavellan assertively cut him and scream at him this sentence. She already failed 8 years ago to convince him to stay, and she will not let her second chance pass.

And then...

MYTHAL AND SOLAS

Ugh. Where to start.

I like what they did with Solas and Mythal relationship, seeing how abusive and manipulative Mythal was. In a way, it makes the time between Solas and Lavellan in Inquisition even softer, as she accepted him for the person he was and wanted to be. A person who gave advice and share his wisdom. An equal.

I also don't think that Mythal and Solas were romantically involved, and it would have been better to avoid the companions comment about it, making it moreconfusing. Actually, it would have been even better to not have the team reuniting to watch and comment the really personal memories of Solas like a TV Show.

Mythal is the third to offer forgiveness by sharing the weight of their mistakes, and even so I wish she would have been an optional intervention, I have to recognise that the scene is intense and painful - positevily - to watch.

This is the moment the Lost Elf theme start to play as the same time as the main DA TV theme with violin, they managed to make it even sader.

His body language. He is breaking, getting crushed by the weight from his pain. To see him, so vulnerable, so small, it was heartbreaking. And when Mythal release him, say the last word that finally free him, is like he can no longer stand, he fall crying.

Obviously, he was no longer bounded to Mythal since long, and every bad decision he took in the past were taken freely. Still, metaphorically, it was really symbolic. The guy has been suffering for thousand years.

SOLAS AND LAVELLAN

«– Banal Nadas Ar lath'ma Vhenan. »

And then Lavellan walks slowly towards him, and softly kneel to look him in the eyes. She is caring and supportive, and start saying reassuring words in elvhen. I feel like them speaking in elvhen makes so much sench, has it is kind of their tongue of truth and sincerity.

I love that Lavellan grew to be this person Solas could trust, and could be there for him, show compassion. She does not look submissive, but caring. She definitely is in control of the situation, and she chose to be here for him. Despite everything.

And again, the animation. The emotion in their looks. The tears in Solas' eyes.

The sadness of his gaze while he decide to take the hardest decision, and pay the consequences of his actions.

And while Rook and Morrigan look at him, proudly, there is this little frame.

Lavellan, smiling, lookind down. A bit of sadness in her eyes. I think it is the moment she realise that she have to take a decision. See him take his responsability, keeping him as dear memory, or leave everything to be by his side. And my head still remember what she said to him after the Well of Sorrow mission : " No matter what, you will be by my side. ".

I am not upsed by the ending. This is exactly what I had envision before the release of Veilguard.

Sure, Solas was the victime of Mythal abuse, but the pain and suffering he caused around him were all from decisions he took freely. He needed to make amend, and not a sacrificial reparation. The decision is even harder as it mirrors his fear that we know. Dying alone.

Every other ending is painful to watch when you remember that.

So for him to take his responsability, knowing that he would lead him to a life of solitude. Only, when he chose this path, with the end that awaits him, does it makes sens that the Inquisitor offer to follow him. The world is saved, she leave it in the good hands of people she trust, and she deserve to finally take a break.

And again, the game let you decide if you want to follow him, you can have a Lavellan who think that it was too much for her. But to me, it is the culminent point of their story taking a mythical level.

«– Ar ghilas vir banal. »

Solas speaking elvhen sounds so beautiful. Again, he rejects her, telling her that only terrible thing awaits her if she follow him. He wants to protect her, she doesn't have to face the same consequences as him, she has done nothing but trying to repare his mistakes. I think it shows that he still care, that he would not make her selfishly take the same burden as him.

I know, it is not a grand gesture, but the way he looks at her. I do believe she means everything to him.

And the kiss was so soft. I think us, solavellan fan are not use to it. And it bugged me also, as we had in the past more intimate scene. I think I would have prefere if he at least hugged her while kissing. Still, I think it goes well with the caring and softness of Lavellan, in this specific situation, who is in front of a bruised man.

I kind of count on the artist to make something more emotional.

So far, I enjoyed the ending, I just have a problem with the execution, and now that I am writting all of it, I realise that I even enjoyed the cinematic, I just think I was expecting more. A Trespasser level ending, that would feel more personal.

But I am also in peace with the ending, this is exactly what I wanted for them, and I am sure that they will make of this fade prison a special place for them to grow happy.

And again, thanks to the Solavellan fan to provide us with content that should be in the game. The way he looks at her :

I think this picture alone help me make peace with the end.

And I will just finish with my Lavellan and Rook smiling. I love them so much.