#and it was probably a struggle... for him to get used to following the most normal of customs

[thetheoryisalie]

This scene was 100% going to be Mike breaking up with El and you cannot convince me otherwise.

Like there's no way he was going to confess his love for El but then needs Will's continuous support like 5 minutes later when he actually confesses his love and she's in actual danger.

And let's not forget about the other advice that Will also gave Mike during the van scene:

"And if she was going to lose you, I...I think she's rather just get it over with quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid."

And then Mike literally takes the first opportunity to do just that.

In that pizza place is probably the first time he's been alone with El since their reunion, and El starts initiating an intimate conversation between the two, and Mike wants to explain himself and brings up their last fight, only to not get to say what he wanted because Argyle interrupts him, and then next thing he knows El's dying and needs his support and Will (unintentionally) pressures him into confessing his love to her to save her life.

Like that's actually so sad :((

Also: how he takes off the glasses covering his eyes right when El initiates the intimacy, like he's finally ready to be open with her.

I think most of us know this is reoccurring imagery with Mike, most notably the airport kiss scene (can't recall right now if there are any others)

(sorry about the bad picture btw, getting them to be even remotely in focus was a pain, it's such a short scene and that red guy walks right in front of them for like half of it lol)

The glasses cover up his eyes and therefor part of his expression, it symbolizes how he's hiding a part of his emotions from others and the audience.

But this imagery doesn't make any sense if he's just struggling with telling El he loves her.

Firstly, the fact that Mike loves El isn't supposed to be a secret at this point. Mike himself tells it to Nancy, Jonathan, Max, Lucas and Will (and thus also the audience) in S3 E6:

"because I love her and I can't lose her again."

And we, and Mike, know that El knows this and overheard him here, because she tells Mike "I love you, too." at the end of S3, right after she says all this:

"Mike?" - "Yeah?" - [sighs] "Remember that day... at the cabin, you were talking to Max?" - "Um... I don't think I follow." - "You talked about your-- your feelings, your heart." - "Oh. Oh, yeah, that. Man, that was so long ago. Um..."

"That was really heat of the moment stuff, and we were arguing and... I don't really remember... What did I say, exactly?" - "Mike..."

"I love you, too."

There is zero doubt what she's referring to here. She knows Mike loves her, sure maybe by season 4 she's doubting his former love confession, but then the feelings that Mike would be hiding are that he doesn't love her anymore. His love for her isn't a secret, everyone already knows/assumes so anyway, and Mike knows this.

So the only thing he could be hiding is that he doesn't love her anymore/doesn't love her the way that everyone is assuming he does.

And then he takes his glasses of when El initiates an intimate conversation the first chance they get after they reunite to take Will's advice to 'rip off the Band-Aid'

Also Also: El is the one who initially opens up the intimacy of the conversation, and tells Mike she missed him:

"I...missed you"

Mike then takes over the conversation, but I want to talk about how El looks very serious here.

At this point, they're basically broken up. Mike couldn't tell her he loved her, and in response she writes "from El" in her last letter to him before going with Dr. Owens. You can see it better when you actually watch the clip (at the top), but the way she hesitates to even say she missed him, and then briefly smiles but goes back to looking serious when he says he missed her too, doesn't exactly scream that she was going to tell Mike she does want to continue the relationship, nor does it feel like she was going to reciprocate if Mike did tell her he loved her.

And clearly she also had something to say to Mike, otherwise she wouldn't have opened up the conversation like that.

Also Also Also:

The way the love confession would have happened if Argyle hadn't interrupted also doesn't make much sense:

"You know, the last few days, I... I've had to think about the last talk we had. You know, before the cops and... the whole world went to shit? I... I guess I just... I dunno. I guess I just wanted to say that--"

I guess I just... I dunno. I guess I just wanted to say that I love you?

Please, what kind of love confession is that? And why did he have to think about that? He should already know that he loves her, he's already said it once before.

Unless that's not actually what he was going to say...

Bonus:

Both of them wearing something that reminds them of their most important person(s) on their wrist, El's bracelet Hopper gave her that used to be his daughter's, Mike's matching watch with the party:

They all wear these in every episode, only exception I caught was Lucas during the basketball game. Mike and Max are also the only ones wearing them on their right hand.

Lucas not wearing the watch when playing basketball -> This is when he's trying to be different the most, 'trying to distance himself from the party'/ become something different from who the party is (nerds)

Lucas and Max's watch both being round -> matching shapes to create harmony between the characters/Lumax

Max and Mike wearing the watch on their right hand, not the left like the rest -> both having something that they're working through that they're hiding/not being open about with the rest of the party/not 'matching' the rest of the party

Max also doesn't wear hers when in the hospital (obviously) -> completely removed from the party and unable to talk to them

Just some initial thoughts I had/things I noticed, feel free to analyze this deeper (please @ me if you do, I'd love to hear it!)

Bonus Bonus:

"But I have one more important question: do I look cool?" - [laughs] - "I feel like I look really cool. Are you giggling?" - [giggling] - "You're giggling because I look awesome. I can't see it but I know you're smiling because I look so good. Right?"

cute ElMike interaction when they're broken up, and it would almost be expected to be awkward

vs.

The only 'romantic' Mileven interaction we see after Mike's monologue. El is the one who initiates the side hug. Mike only pats her shoulder after she rests her head on his shoulder.

Plus:

Will actively giving them space to talk. We know there's more than enough space for 3 people on the back seat Mike and El are sitting on because we've seen them all sitting there, which means he's choosing not to to give them some privacy.

Yet they're barely talking?

"Did she... talk to you at all?" - "Not much... I mean, a little bit."

Also, Will would have definitely heard anything they would have said to each other (Jonathan hears Will talking about the painting to Mike just fine, and he was further away), so the only reason he's asking this here is to inform the audience that Mike and El aren't talking to each other. If they were talking to each other like normal, there would have been no need to tell this to us, since anyone would have assumed so anyway.

Bonus Bonus Bonus:

The pink and yellow upside-down pizza triangle that's right next to Mike in like every shot he's in in the Pizza Place scene:

yeah anyway...

Edit:

Also, something that just occurred to me: Literally why would they have this scene in the first place, just to have an actual love confession scene later in the same episode? (Both of these happen in S4 E9) There's no need to stall things. You could have just not had this scene in the first place, and replaced it with them helping Argyle make pizza or something to get Jonathan and Will in a private setting.

Like, if we go with the narrative that Mike was insecure about confessing his love to her, this doesn't tell us anything we don't already know. We know he feels insecure, and is afraid of El not needing him anymore from his conversations with Will in the van. We also already know assume he's in love with her.

This scene doesn't do anything instead of making us question what Mike was actually going to say. And there's no need for that if the answer was always just going to be that he's in love with El. You don't waste time on a scene that's is only there to stall a love confession, if the love confession is in the same episode anyway. Like, what are you stalling? The only thing this would do is make it so that the creators of the show have to cut other scenes. As if they have the time for any of that in a show like Stranger Things.

Actually, I lied. It also establishes that Mike and El do value each other ("I... missed you." - [exhales] "Yeah. Yeah, I missed you, too.") but this is completely redundant if they're just in love anyway. Like gee I sure hope the main romantic pairing of this show at the very least misses each other when they're apart. That kind of goes without saying if you're in a romantic relationship. There's no need to clarify that you miss each other. Unless that romantic relationship isn't doing so well...

[rotting-ink]

Our Last Liaisons: Skin Deep

What Pavel had gotten used to by now, was that the first thing you always smelled, was the smoke. Trying to look for the vast plume, billowing into the sky was useless here. In this part of the world, the sun never truly rose, and was bathed in the eternal blue of a twilight. It wasn’t even that much colder than home, even crossing the sea and hiking for too many weeks. But you had to rely on other senses than your eyes. 

When going up against the Bloodless, the Cold, the Parasites, who had the natural advantage in the dark, this was dangerous. 

So smelling smoke, burning wood, singed hair and scorched meat? A blessing and a curse. A beacon to follow, with most of them sensitive to fire especially. But also a sign. That there were already casualties, that numerous people could have already lost their homes. That they were too late. 

It was doing something to him. Everyone at one point or another had to do two years here, patrolling and fighting and sleeping and barely living until the next regiment came in and they could finally go back out. And while Pavel had never called himself an optimist or an idealist, as his group finally breached the top of the snowy mountain, looking over a settlement that had settled into a yawning, expansive darkness, he felt like each hour was eating into him. Taking something from him. He didn’t even think he had smiled over the past year and two months. Maybe once, when, for the first in the initial seven months, the letters didn’t get lost, the courier didn’t die, a ship didn’t go down, and he finally got to open letters from his family. Didn’t mean the things made him continue to smile. He remembers that he had to be sent to the medic for frostbite treatment when his boots had finally fallen apart after a longer hike. Meanwhile, as his foot was being tended to, he got to read about Aksana’s engagement party, the mountains of food and games. About how well the yearly Hunt had gone so well, and over two hundred noble families from all Houses got to enjoy all the stag, deer and bear they could, along with wine and brandy and vodka and then chocolate and strawberries and sugared plums for dessert. His smile was gone by the time he was sent back out, his foot constricted by bandages and foul smelling ointment. And nothing from his youngest sibling. They probably wrote some months earlier and now their own letter was torn to pieces from the courier being eaten, or in goopy, split pieces at the bottom of the frigid sea, or maybe they never even wrote. 

And now, as he and the men descended down into the emptied village, so much of him had rotted away inside, he struggled to remember a time when the sun shone off the pristine white snow, or his favourite horse happily eating from his palm, or the sound of his siblings fighting, childish little spats, while he was sitting in his room, with his tutor.

Pavel hated the melancholy that weighed at his shoulders, something heavy and scaly with claws that could never get comfortable and would stalk from his right to his left and back again every hour. But he hated it for more than the feeling it gave him. Because he shouldn’t even be feeling it. 

As he searched for survivors, keeping up a guard incase of an attacker, in the burnt down houses, the charred corpses, curled up in the fetal position, he shouldn’t be feeling bad for himself. What right did he have? Looking down at two bodies trying to shield a smaller one, barely the size of a child. The only thing worse than the bodies, burned alive in their homes, was the ones taken out to what used to be the marketplace, stripped naked and drained into near husks, looking like skeletons with old skin stretched over the bones. What terrified Pavel though, was the missing ones. It was like seeing a family portrait with overly obvious missing figures. Not that there was an awkward gap, but there was an unpainted silhouette, showing the flesh behind the painted skin. Once you knew what you were looking for, a room with two beds, one striped bare while the other had the covers bloodied, a body ripped from the sheets. 

As Pavel and two others set about finding more bodies and bringing them to the marketplace, his guilt, which usually hid just behind his stomach and nibbled at him, began to take larger chunks out of him. He wasn’t a child, and even when he was younger, he had been a staunch realist, much to his mother’s bemusement and stepfather’s horror. He had never been under the illusion that he was going to be some sort of hero. Saving towns, freeing people, protecting the peace in high risk areas. No, he doubted that he and his compatriots would swoop in in the nick of time. But coming up on two years of this? They had managed to save just a few people with each attack, and as time went on, the headcount of survivors went down steadily but surely. There was no way to anticipate, there was no way to warn, there was no way to move any faster than they could. It felt he was running uphill in the snow, with the bodies of each failed village dragging him back. In his weakest moments, he craved going back home. Walking back to Salander House, the doors being opened for him, and getting to drop his bag, getting to rest his head in his mother’s lap like he was but a child again, grieving after his father’s funeral. Laszlo excitedly told him all the celebrations they had in store for his return. Hugging Aksana close, enjoying her soft huffing before hugging him back. Sasha flatly tells him that he hopes he doesn’t think that he will get to rejoin the line for the crown and then throws their arms around his neck when he says he wasn’t planning to. Getting to see his half siblings, spending time with them that was stolen by his time away. Getting to see Stas as the man he had become, taking the twins hunting, finally keeping all of his promises to the one he always saw as the baby of the family, despite the arrival of the two youngest girls. Finally taking them on all the trips he planned, the horse rides, finally getting to just sit together and listen and talk. Getting to finally hold Inga, to play with Kissy. But even as the tears would prick at his eyes, he’d simply bite down on his knuckle and turn over in his bedroll. He’d never forgive himself if he did that.

Pulling a small body out from some of the debris, he couldn’t even focus on his thoughts on who this was. What they must have been. He used to, right at the start, as if he could channel his rage and bitterness at the loss of life, into some sort of justice for them. It felt just, it felt right, it felt like he was doing something, but, as it turned out, he could keep learning. No, these days he sank deep into happier memories, skimming over his most recent letters, the joke one of his peers said at the fire, the gratitude of the people he managed to pull free of the rubble six months ago. Letting his guard down. 

And that’s what led to him shifting a charred piece of wood, too lost in himself to notice the rapid breathing, the blackened fingers, blending in with the scorched surroundings, the scent unable to be separated from the burnt meat of the bodies. He didn’t even see them at first. The first thing that Pavel would ever know about the only person he’d come to trust with his life, love and secrets, was that they had very nearly cut out his eye clean out of his face. A deep cut into his eyelid, deep into his cheek. 

A blur. A bloodied blur, with blood covering most of his face, a hoarse, screaming voice as skeletal fingers scratch at his face, as if trying to drive them into his other eye, but most of all. Sobs. Horrifying, raspy, deep sobs as he was pushed down and beatings raining down on his body.

“Stop!” One of the soldiers shouted, voices coming closer. “We’re here to help” 

Sharp nails, or finger bones, scratched at his cheeks and Pavel struggled to raise his arm up from where it was pinned under this… Husk. Even through the blood clogging his eyes, it was… Nothing more than a skeleton, burnt black with vivid red breaking through, cooked skin barely covering raw flesh. And the screaming. They… The thing. It wouldn’t stop screaming. 

“Cease! Or else!” 

They were going to kill it. It was a person. They were under the rubble, the torched remains of a home. A person. Scared. 

“Stop.” He managed to wheeze out and got fingers scratching at his mouth, feeling like fish hooks tearing at the inside of his cheek.”Gonna-” 

The sound of the pistol cut off his words, his ears filled with blood and a ringing sound. The person on top of him fell back with a broken gasp. They were going to die. Pavel felt it. Their blood gushing free from their throat. The lead ball had torn through the fragile skin but no blood was seeping out the back of the neck. Pavel, fighting through the pain, his eye feeling raw and loose in the socket, blood pouring down over half of his face, into his mouth, clogging his ear, rolled to his side and patted around for the twitching body. Charred skin. Crispy. Twitching. He dragged himself forward, reaching his bloodied fingers out, searching and rubbing and trying to find the ripped hole through the throat. There. A middle finger was all he needed to stop the bleeding. Using his own blood to staunch the flow. The body didn’t fight him anymore. Just twitched and curled their skeletal fingers around his wrist.

They were taken to the medic. Pavel’s eye couldn’t be saved. The medic reattached one taken from one of the bodies in the marketplace. The Survivor has to be kept in bandages, having lost most of their skin. Pavel eventually got to sit up and walk over, looking down at the husk. They seemed to have noticed him and slowly turned to look, only one of their own eyes staring out too. 

“Look at that. We’re matching.” Pavel couldn’t help it and thank goodness, The Survivor hadn’t attacked him for it. Instead just sat up and shrugged their shoulders. Pavel sat down in turn and smiled gently. 

They couldn’t send them anywhere. The medic doubted they’d survive a solo trip to Varan, or any place closer. So for months, the Survivor tagged along, spending days just resting, the exposed pale lavender eye staring out, the pupil almost completely lost in the haze of a pastel sea. After a few days, a pale film developed over the exposed eyeball. Symptom of an Upyr attack, and nothing to be done about it, but it upsetted the Survivor further. They drift further into solitude, only seeming to emerge from their splintered shell in his presence. Before too long, their bandages were allowed to be removed, but instead they would just cover up completely, hiding away burnt skin and scars  and skeletal fingers and Bloodless Eyes. 

People slowly forgot that they were found, trying to shred Pavel’s face to ribbons, cutting out his eye in the process. Maybe it was the fact they were a proven fighter, even without Sanguinemancy. Maybe it was because they had lost enough, along with every other soldier in the regiment. Maybe… Maybe.

And then, Pavel Volchek made the hard decision of sending them away. 

Current SFW Story Up: The Second Coming- Bryn Heron SFW Story

[alexanderwales]

Anime Review: Neon Genesis Evangelion and End of Evangelion

Alright, I'm writing half of this having watched the anime before watching End of Evangelion, and will write the second half after watching the movie.

Spoilers follow.

I have what I imagine is the consensus opinion on the show, which is that there's an early part where it's not that much different from a normal mech anime except with a depressed protagonist who has some daddy issues. For me, this was ... maybe episodes 1-17.

Then late in the show we get more experimental and there are multiple reveals, call this episodes 18-24.

Then there's episodes 25-26, which are bad.

I think that if I had to watch the show again, or if I was curating the show for my own tastes, I could probably condense episodes 1-17 down to maybe a single hour of the most interesting bits that actually had something to say about these characters, cutting heavily. There were individual scenes that I enjoyed, but mostly I was waiting for it to become the thing that people would be talking about decades later. Let me tell you: I was really doubting a whole lot of people.

And then it actually does become that show, at least for six episodes. We get some great reveals and backstory and non-linear storytelling, we fill in the gaps and the relationships between characters, we have very little focus on Shinji (which is for the best), and they start doing some things with the medium that are different and compelling. This does not always work, but it's at least making an effort.

I'll list some standouts:

Asuka as a thirteen-year-old trying to do this seduction of Ryoji and him saying "nah, you're a kid" and her getting incensed by that and wanting to be taken seriously as a grown-up due to her own traumas. This whole one-sided infatuation and "rivalry" with Misato was something I enjoyed generally.

Misato's semi-motherhood of Shinji, these weird blurred lines between them where she's his handler and his only real caretaker, particularly the time when he was having a bad time of things and she went to lay her hand on his only for him to shrink back from her. And her reaction to that of "ah, shit, that was just for me, not him", which I actually don't think was true.

Asuka's slow descent into not being able to use her Eva at all, the way her edifice of self-confidence crumbles, how one failure means that she's less able to do the thing that defines her self-worth, and that causes her to spiral down toward suicide. Once the slip happened, it was impossible to stop.

I really enjoyed the episode that was flashing back and forth through time, showing us younger versions of the characters and characters we had never seen (but whose presence was felt) like Shinji's mom.

I think Asuka and Misato were the stand-outs to me, and I cared a lot less about Rei and Shinji.

Shinji felt like he was barely in this at times. One of the things that I was told going in was that whether I'd like it or not depended on whether I vibed with the author's struggles with depression and I thought "well, I've had my own struggles, seems like a good fit", but it turns out that our conceptions of depression are extremely different. Shinji is filled with a desire for the approval of his father and hates himself. I have a very different bad relationship with my father where he's a disappointment to me, and depression for me has always been more about hatred of the world and intense rumination. I sometimes think "oh, I suck" when depressed, but it's because the depression is making me fail at stuff, not because of self-esteem.

Rei, on the other hand, I did like, it just felt like they didn't do all that much with her. She was ultra-subservient and clearly ready for death, and this was cool, but when they did the clone reveal I felt like it undercut it a bit. Her saying "if they said to kill myself, I would" is much weaker and less interesting when you bring reincarnation or whatever into the mix. And I don't even think she meant it that way, it's just at odds with the stuff I find interesting about her.

There were definitely places where I wish the show had been a bit more explicit in terms of "what is actually going on". I was doing my best to watch closely, and still had multiple moments where I had to either go back or pause and try to work things out, or where the editing or direction left things ambiguous. There's a scene where Naoko Akagi is strangling a child Rei over being called an old hag, and then there's a bloody body outline, and I was just scratching my head about what was supposed to have been implied to have happened there. (According to the wiki, which I waited to look at until I was done with the series, it's clarified in the manga that she took her own life, either because she felt so guilty or because she realized that Gendo would never love her.)

I do feel like the overall plot the highest level actors are working within, if you lay it out in plain terms, is silly/nonsensical, enough that I have to just sigh and say "alright, that's not the level this work is meant to be engaged on". And so the show hides behind obfuscation and incomplete information, and probably this is for the best. There are three factions attempting to immanentize the eschaton (Angels, Seele, Gendo) and their beliefs about what is true about the universe are not remotely well-articulated, nor are their personal philosophies, for all that there's a bunch of dialogue about it. And there's a part of me that wants to say "alright, none of this is actually important, the show is not about any of that" but I'm not sure that's true. Gendo wants to bring his dead wife back, sure, I think he can be usefully boiled down to that, but ... I don't know, didn't land.

And now it's time for me to rant about episodes 25-26 for a bit, with what I'm sure are some ice cold takes:

I was bored the whole time.

The animation sucked.

Standard writing advice is "show, don't tell" and most of the ending here is characters telling us their character flaws. Misato outright saying that she uses physical intimacy for a cheap fix and because she doesn't know how to have a real relationship is just bad writing that cheapens the rest of the work, and they do this a bunch, for all the characters. My least favorite parts of media tend to be when characters do this: explain the themes and plot and characterizations. This is a much much worse version of it than usual.

The philosophy is just so incredibly dull and basic, and it goes on forever. I am not expecting an anime to serve me up philosophical takes that are new to me, but I kept feeling like this was on the level of dudes smoking pot in someone's basement. The presentation of this really does not do it any favors. I am actually fine with Philosophy/Psychology 101 in media, it just needs to be done as character-based exploration rather than spoken into my face.

I took a lot of this final section to be an "answer to depression", and as stated, it really really failed to connect with me, perhaps because it felt like it was making sweeping statements about depression as a whole that were just, uh, not my own personal experience of wanting to kill myself.

I don't think I can overstate how much I hated these episodes. They were wretched to watch. I understand that they were produced under time constraints with very little budget, but I am absolutely not willing to grade them on a curve. They made the whole show retroactively worse. I genuinely think they might be my two least favorite episodes of anime I have watched.

Anyway, time to watch End of Evangelion!

~~~~

There was literally only one thing that was spoiled for me about Evangelion, and it was Shinji jerking off in a hospital room. I guess I had assumed that it would be in Neon Genesis Evangelion, but nope, it's in the movie, and I hadn't imagined that it would be in the first five minutes. It does feel like it comes out of nowhere, both because it's happening with so little context and because it's so different from anything that Shinji has done before. Alright, fine, there's a scene where she's sleeping and he goes in kiss her, it's reminiscent of that and symbolic of his failed, stunted attempts to connect to her. But it's something that the show didn't really have all that much of, mostly because Shinji is so listlessly depressed all the time. My proposed fix would be to show more of Shinji jerking off in the show.

The movie did a few things that I didn't like, and overall, I would say that I didn't like it, though it wasn't a chore to sit through and I didn't outright hate it, not like episodes 25-26.

Here's some stuff I did like:

Misato saves Shinji and tries to get him to the Eva, sending him off because she's trying to hide that she's dying. She kisses him and says "that's how grown-ups kiss" and seems to promise she'll fuck him, and at first I thought "wut" and then realized that this is the character work I'd been craving: Misato doesn't know how to be a mother or how to connect with other people, so she defaults to sex, one of her go-tos, the way in which she's stunted. It's inappropriate but she doesn't know how to do better. And then in the elevator Shinji sees blood on his fingers and his lip and realizes that she was dying, so it doesn't work anyway.

Asuka's rage-filled fight scene was well-animated with good emotion.

There's a scene where Asuka and Shinji are fighting and this stupid penguin is looking in from the doorway in what I can only feel is a stand-in for a child watching his parents fight. It's stupid, but I loved it.

I did enjoy the assault on the NERV complex, it was brutal and well-directed, though it would have worked better if it weren't faceless people against other faceless people. I kept feeling like I was missing something that would make it cohere more, as though there was some way it tied into the themes of the show/movie, but I still haven't read analysis on this yet.

The stuff I didn't like can probably be usefully divided into different categories. There's a bunch of pointless iconography, there's a bunch of spectacle without meaning, I don't really care to go into any of this, but I definitely rolled my eyes pretty hard. Every time the mysterious council was talking I was annoyed about them, a place where the movie matched up with the show.

The more important failures to me are the character failures.

I said above that I really liked how they handled Asuka in the show, particularly her spiral down into low self-worth and eventual suicide, with all the fire having gone out of her. Well, in the movie she gets taken out of her medically induced coma, put into an Eva, and with pretty much no connective tissue or motivation changes, is fighting at peak form. No one in the control room expected this, they were just hiding her away at the bottom of the lake, and it's not clear to me where this change in character comes from. It definitely felt like it was out of nowhere, and like it undid a thing that I liked from the show.

Similarly, Gendo takes Rei down to see Lilth and start the end of the world, hoping to bring his dead wife back somehow (the mechanics of this are extremely unclear) and Rei turns against him, saying "I'm not your doll" and this felt like it came from nowhere. It's the kind of thing that you want to come from a series of tests and failures, that you need to earn, and IMO this movie is really really far from having earned it. So I didn't like what the movie did with Rei either.

Finally, Gendo himself as this manipulative, cruel, driven man gets undercut when he says he kept himself away from Shinji for fear of hurting him. This does not make sense for the character, and in my opinion we get no hints of it prior to him saying that. It sort of makes sense as a lie he would tell other people or himself. But we don't get in Gendo's head at all for virtually the entirety of the show, and these lines felt, again, like they were coming from nowhere.

But these notes of characterization aside, I think my biggest problem with the movie is my same problem with the end of the show, which is that I just disagree with what it has to say about depression. As someone who has "struggled with depression" and had recurrent bouts of suicidal ideation, there's a cluster of platitudes that I find very frustrating and disconnected from my own personal experiences, and they go something like "but you've gotta keep living!". This felt like that. The only quote I wrote down was "As long as you have the will to live you can turn any place into a paradise," and it's the sort of thing that makes me pretty angry. I get the message, and I will grudgingly admit that it's a good message, but I go out and experience nature and talk with the people I love and make art and you know what? I still suffer these bouts of depression, I still sometimes feel like I'd be better off dead. And maybe because of the shadow of depression, I've heard just an absolute shit ton of "answers to depression" and this is one of the reasons they rankle me.

So I don't know, Shinji needs to stop running away from people, he needs to allow himself connections, he needs to work on himself and come to grips with his own self-worth independent of how other people see him, and the audience needs to go out and touch grass and not send the studio death threats. But this isn't an interesting message to me, and it feels like they're trying to say something about depression generally that I just disagree with.

I'd say that overall I didn't like Neon Genesis Evangelion or The End of Evangelion. There are moments of brilliance here and there, and I'm always down for people taking big swings with the storytelling, but there are numerous moments where I felt the writing was weak and other parts where it just becomes a mess. It's interesting from a "history of anime" perspective and did not land for me.

I have no plans to watch any more Evangelion stuff and am moderately interested in some concise, high quality analysis, so if you want to do me a solid, you can shoot me a link to whatever the best essays or video essays of the past thirty years are.

[antithetical-bolter]

Out Of The Woods (4)

Hi everyone!! wow sorry this took me a little bit, I scrapped my original version of this and started over lmao. I also had to split this into two chapters bc it was getting a little long so hopefully pt 5 will be out soonish as well

5.0k words | Robby and Iris have a heart to heart, baby gender is revealed <3

warnings: nausea, throwing up, unplanned pregnancy, excessive use of the word fuck, commas, and em dashes. 

Prev | Next

Masterlist

page dividers by @cafekitsune

tag list:  @snowflames-world @antisocialfiore @eviemonroeer @princessjayll @sizzlingkryptonitetale @two-bitkit @dizzybee03 @knifetotheback @nerdgirljen @legolas-the-homeschooled-elf @tradingtruthsforlies @robbyrosierobinavitch @jazzimac1967 @anglophileforlife @karimestarksworld @disassociation-daydreams @livingdeadblondequeen @practicallyperfectthings

(if you'd like to be added just lmk in the comments!)

Iris

Sleep claims me quickly once I finish eating the pasta Robby threw together for me. I try to be annoyed that he’s the only thing that relaxes me enough to sleep, but I’m too busy actually sleeping to really care. When we wake again it’s to the sunlight streaming in through my curtains and I groan at having been awoken when I feel like I could sleep for another twelve hours. It takes me a minute to orient myself to my surroundings, to the fact that I am smushed between Robby and the back of my couch. He must have moved me around a little bit after I fell asleep because I’m almost positive I fell asleep sitting up. 

He clears his throat a little as he too is forced awake. His arms are already around me so he squeezes me just a bit and says, “morning, sleep okay?” 

“Shockingly, yeah. I think that’s the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. Thanks for sticking around.” His head moves in close to me and I watch as he debates kissing my forehead but decides not to. I’m briefly disappointed but remember that we have yet to have anything resembling a real conversation so his restraint is probably for the best. I sit up and he follows suit, stretching my arms above my head and adjusting to being vertical again. A bit of queasiness settles in my stomach as I move around a bit more, but it’s not bad enough to send me running to the bathroom quite yet. 

“Do you, uhm, should I go? I can stay if you want me to or I can go, whatever you want.” I almost feel bad for him, with the way he’s stumbling over his words and clearly struggling with them. 

“You can stay, if you’re okay with it maybe we can talk? After I have some crackers and a shower?” If I put this talk off much longer it won’t be happening and that is absolutely not what I want. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He walks into the kitchen to grab my sleeve of saltines and brings it back to me. “If the crackers settle okay I can make you breakfast while you shower, or I can order something for us.”

“I’m not feeling brave enough for anything super big, maybe just some toast and an egg?” That’s my go-to breakfast most days and I’m hoping my stomach will appreciate the familiar food. I munch on a few crackers and Robby agrees to cook me ‘literally whatever I want’ while we wait to see if they’ll stay down. No puking occurs and I deem it safe enough for me to shower, so I make my way upstairs while he heads to the kitchen. 

I try to take my time in the shower, but I don’t have it in me to wash my hair and I know I'm just stalling so in reality I only spend about 15 minutes upstairs. When I come back down I find Robby scooping some eggs onto a plate for me, joined by a buttered english muffin. 

“Thanks, this is perfect.” I say as I sit in the chair next to him at my square dining room table. The sounds of forks on plates is the only noise for a few minutes as we eat, both of us lost in thought and preparing for our inevitable conversation. 

He takes both our dishes to the dishwasher when we finish and sits back down, turning his chair slightly so he can look at me as he speaks. 

“Still up for a talk?” I nod. “Want me to start?” I nod again. “Okay, well, uh first I think I owe you the biggest apology on the planet. Obviously the flowers are part of that but I just want to reiterate that I am incredibly sorry and ashamed of how I've treated you recently.” I hear him take in a long and shaky breath before continuing. “You are one of the brightest parts of my life, you have been since you switched to days last year and I think that scared me. It’s no secret that my relationship track record isn't great, but that’s no reason for me to act like that.” The tears are already starting to form in my eyes, and while I knew it would be hard for me to get through this without some crying I wasn’t expecting it to happen so quickly. He notices and does not comment, but he does reach out and hold my hand where it rests on the table between us. “At therapy last night we talked a lot about how showing up scared is half the battle, so that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m terrified because I haven’t felt this strongly about someone in a long time, and I fucked up enough last time that she opted to leave the state. The last thing I want is to lose you and your friendship, but treating you like I have been isn’t anyway for me to keep you here.” He squeezes my hand a few times as he takes a second to collect himself. “You have been the biggest surprise - caught me totally off guard. I never expected to fall so hard so fast, and I didn’t know how to handle myself. I’m sorry it took you telling me that you’re pregnant for me to get my head out of my ass but I’m going to do my best to be here for you. If all you want from me is cooking and cuddles then I’ll be here, but if you ever decide you want more from me then I will be here. Happily waiting and supporting you no matter what our relationship looks like.” 

Well, fuck. Pretty sure I just watched my resolve grow wings and fly away. I had talked with Erica about what I wanted to hear from him and he just checked all my boxes; acknowledged and apologized for his actions, reiterated his feelings for me, and made it clear that he’ll support me even if I don’t want to be with him. I do want to be with him - so so so badly - but I know I’m going to need to ease into it in order to be comfortable. I don’t want to bring any lingering resentment into this so taking things slow is in our best interest. 

I tip my eyes up to meet his and find him staring at me, waiting for a response. Putting him out of his misery is easy. 

“Thank you for saying all that, I really needed to hear it. I told you last night that I tentatively accept your apology and I think it’s safe to say I fully accept it now. I have strong feelings for you too, but I want to take things slow. It’s something that I’m working on in therapy but I have a tendency to hold a grudge and the last thing I want is to start a relationship when I might bring in old hurt feelings. Maybe we just spend some time together the next few weeks, and we can revisit this after my next scan? If you still want to come with me.” I return the hand squeeze as he wipes a few tears from his eyes.

“Of course, I would love to be there. And taking things slow sounds perfect.” He reaches over to wipe the moisture off my cheeks and then stands to pull me into a hug. I eagerly reciprocate, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. 

Iris

The next three weeks passed in a seemingly never ending time loop consisting of nausea, exhaustion, and an inability to keep my cool about literally anything. I called out of work more than I have ever in my life and I know people are starting to get suspicious. Robby comes over more nights than not, cooking and then sitting on the couch with me while I binge watched all of my comfort TV shows. His favorite is Bob’s Burgers - which is great because if he didn’t like that show I would have serious concerns about him as a person. He’s clearly showing up and trying to be present both physically and emotionally, and while there are still some moments where he’s withdrawn after a hard shift he’s been better about letting me know how he’s feeling. 

My 12 week scan is rapidly approaching - just two days away now. He knows I want him there, but we haven’t really discussed details yet. I may have lightly stalked the scheduling matrix, confirming that he was not supposed to work that day, though I’m positive he would call out if need be. I’m feeling oddly nervous about having him there. Not sure why that’s such a big step for me - he’s spent the last three weeks doting on me hand and foot and proving that he wants to be here. My therapist tells me that I’m likely scared to let him see me in such a vulnerable state; in a gown, unsure as to what was going to happen, and having to talk so intimately about my body. He’s seen me plenty vulnerable the last three weeks, having had to hold my hair and support me while being sick an almost innumerable amount of times now but for some reason this just feels different. 

Today officially marks the start of my twelfth week and I swear I am a completely different person than I was 24 hours ago. I have just a hint of a bump - it’s like it just appeared overnight. It’s either that or I’m bloated as fuck but I don’t think that’s it. The nausea hasn’t made itself known since lunch yesterday and I have more energy today than I have for the last month. I guess it’s true that the second trimester is better than the first and fuck I’m thankful for it. 

Robby will be here any minute, having stopped on his way over to grab the takeout of my choice. What I really wanted was Taco Time, but those don’t exist on the east coast (not the real ones, anyway) so we settled on our local Mexican place instead.  

He doesn’t bother knocking when he gets here, just uses the code and lets himself in. The food smells fucking delicious and I’m so thankful for it that I have a very strong and sudden urge to kiss him for picking it up. Whoa, Iris, down girl. That is… new. I’m not blind, he’s hot as fuck, but I guess I’ve just been feeling so shitty recently that I didn’t really give it any thought. Maybe it’s a new round of hormones, and I’m both thankful and annoyed that they seem to have changed their tune from being liable to cry at any second to apparently horny as all hell. 

Robby is still in his scrubs when he arrives, so he quickly sets the food down, greets me with a kiss on the cheek, and grabs a plate for me before going to rinse off and change. I’ve barely sat down with my enchilada, chips and salsa, and beans with cheese when he comes back out to the living room. The somewhat too tight navy blue shirt and grey sweats he’s got on are really working for me and I have to literally drag my gaze away from him and back to whatever shenanigans the Belcher kids are getting up to on the screen. Definitely a new type of pregnancy hormones - holy shit. 

He quickly dishes himself a plate and comes to join me on the couch, sitting close enough so my knee touches his thigh as he settles in. We eat in companionable silence, both of us too hungry for any real conversation. I finish before he does and I get up to take my plate to the kitchen, but he finishes shortly after and we end up at the counter at the same time. 

“You seem like you’re feeling better today.” He observes, slightly obviously because I really do feel like a new person. 

“Oh my god, literally so much better. Maybe officially hitting twelve weeks did the trick because I haven’t been nauseated in over 24 hours and it’s glorious.” I tell him, turning to face him after I finish taking care of my dishes. 

“That’s so great to hear - it’s widely true that the nausea gets better in the second tri but you’ve felt so terrible I was a little nervous about it not going away.” Me too - up until this morning I would’ve bet on me being nauseated for the rest of my life, not just the rest of my pregnancy.

“You and me both. But I woke up this morning actually hungry and feeling like I got rest so I’m not going to question it. Whatever changed, it’s working for me.” This seems like as good a time as any to talk to him, I figure he’s going to be pretty excited and I’m nervous about nothing so might as well just get on with it. “Sooo my appointment is coming up, Tuesday at 9:15. If you still want to come I’d like for you to be there.” 

The smile that stretches across his face is confirmation enough but it’s still nice to hear him say “Yes, definitely! I didn’t want to bring it up and push you about it but I really would like to be there. Want me to drive?” 

Iris

Robby picks me up at 8:45 the morning of my appointment, my favorite pastry and a fresh peppermint tea in hand as I open my front door. I told him I could just come out to the car when he got here, but he insisted on walking all the way up here to pick me up. 

“Morning, sleep well?” I tell him that I did and we chat some more as we make our way to my appointment. When we arrive he finds a spot close to the building and comes around to open my car door, appalled that I had first tried to get out on my own. Chivalry is still very much alive and well in Michael Robinavitch and it’s got me feeling some type of way. 

The waiting room is mostly empty as I check in and we sit down, just one other couple and a mom with a newborn. I find myself feeling fidgety and nervous, even though I know that this appointment will likely be easier than my last one. I’m far enough along that a transvaginal ultrasound is no longer necessary, but despite knowing that I still feel a little restless. Robby notices and reaches over to grab my hands where they wring together in my lap. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, just nervous. I don’t know why though, this appointment should be an easy one. A scan and a quick blood draw.”

“It’s okay to be nervous, normal even.” I aim for chill and cool as I respond with a nod, but I must miss the mark because he takes his free hand to turn my chin towards him. “Hey, I’ve got you, okay? I’m here. No matter what.” That settles me a little bit and my next nod must look more normal because he kisses my forehead and then releases my chin. I rest my head down on his shoulder and work on taking slow, deep breaths while we wait for my name to be called. Thankfully the office is slow this morning so we don’t have to wait too long. 

“Iris McDowell?” My OB’s medical assistant calls out, though I know she’s already seen me. Robby and I stand up and I lead him back, not letting go of his hand until I absolutely have to. The medical assistant quickly checks my vitals, has me stand on the scale, and draws some blood. Weirdly the blood draw is the easiest part for me, and I’m almost tempted to ask if I can do it myself. Just to see if I can, ya know? 

The MA leaves, prompting me to change into a gown as she does so. Robby turns and faces the wall to give me some privacy as I don the light blue piece of fabric they try to pass off for clothing. I quickly change and resituate myself on the bed, covering my legs with the provided sheet. 

“Okay, I’m decent.” He turns around and comes to sit on the stool that’s right next to the bed, holding one of my hands in both of his as he does so. 

The ultrasound tech comes in shortly after and explains the procedure. This would be a fairly quick scan, just measurement and checking for any obvious abnormalities as well as listening to the heartbeat. She prompts me to pull up the gown so she can apply the gelly. 

“Cold gel here, sorry.” I nod - I know the drill but I still suck in a little breath as it’s applied. Robby’s eyes are glued to my abdomen, on the small bump that is very clearly not bloating. His eyes are glassy as he takes me in, and he breaks his stare to press a long kiss to the side of my head. We’ve spent plenty of time cuddling the last few weeks but there hasn’t been any real touching - so this is the first time he’s seeing my hint of a bump. My preference for loose fitting tops (especially since we have yet to tell the rest of our coworkers) has been helping out in the bump-hiding department as well. It won’t be too long before I can’t really hide it anymore and while Robby’s reaction makes me excited to show a little more I’m not looking forward to having to revamp my wardrobe. 

The tech is fast and efficient, and quickly asks, “would you like to listen to the heartbeat this time?” My last appointment was not nearly as happy as this one, so I had refrained from hearing the heartbeat out loud. 

“Please.” I turn to make eye contact with Robby as the quick and strong thump-thump-thump plays out in the otherwise quiet room. The sheen in his eyes turns to full tears that slowly track down his cheeks and into the wide smile he’s now sporting. The tech lets us listen for a little while longer before removing the probe and printing off a few pictures for us. She hands me the pictures and a wash cloth to clean off the gel and then steps out. 

I immediately make use of the cloth - the gelly never got warm and I really don’t enjoy the feeling of it on my body. I’m pulling the gown back down when Robby interrupts me. 

“Wait - uhm, before you move, can I, uh maybe, can I touch you?” He asks while staring at my small but noticeable bump. I smile and take one of his hands from mine and place it on my abdomen. His tears start up again as he strokes his thumb back and forth across me, over where our baby grows. “Thank you.” His voice is hoarse but sincere and it makes me immensely happy that I asked him to come with me. He leans down to put his face right next to his hand where it rests on my body and speaks so quietly I have to strain to hear him. “Hey, bean. Can’t wait to meet ya. Just, be a little nicer to your mom, yeah?” And that seals the deal for me - happy tears form tracks on my face as I pull him closer and throw my arms around his neck. I almost kiss him - but I’ve got plans for how I’d like to tell him that I want to be together and unfortunately those plans don’t involve making out in the middle of a doctors appointment. 

It takes us both another ten minutes or so to compose ourselves enough to speak real words and not just happy but teary exclamations. Ten minutes turns out to be the perfect amount of time, because my doc comes in shortly after we both wipe our faces. 

“Hi, Iris! Who’ve you got with you today?” 

“This is Robby, he’s the father.”

“Fantastic, it’s great to meet you.” She says to him, and then turns to face me. “Iris, your ultrasound looks perfect. Your vitals are great, and I suspect your labs will come back normal as well. Just to confirm, you still want to do the NIPT?” I’m far enough along that a non-invasive prenatal test can be run with a simple lab draw; showing us the gender and screening for any genetic abnormalities. 

“Yes, please. Kiddo themselves was enough of a surprise so I’d like all the information I can get from here on out.” 

“Alright, we’ll go ahead and get it sent out. Should result in about a week and the results will populate on your MyChart. How are your symptoms?” “Honestly until the morning I hit twelve weeks I was pretty miserable. I’ve been throwing up constantly and I feel like my mood hasn’t been stable in months. Plus I think I’ve slept more in the last month than maybe the last year, which was incredibly inconvenient. But since Sunday I’ve been feeling pretty good.” 

“All perfectly normal, if not obnoxious to deal with. If the nausea comes back with any real force let me know, we’ll want to make sure it doesn’t progress to hyper emesis.” I nod, knowing that HG is absolutely miserable and wanting to avoid it at all costs. “I’ll want to see you about once a month until 28 weeks, and then every two weeks until 36 weeks, and after that I’ll see you weekly until delivery, alright?” Both Robby and I nod, and I can already predict the scheduling nightmare we’re going to have trying to get all that figured out. “Start thinking about maternity leave, we can fill out the FMLA paperwork for both of you whenever you’re ready. Some moms like to take a few weeks prior to delivery and rest, and others like to work as long as possible. Either is okay, just pick whatever works for you. I have delivery privileges at PTMC, am I correct in assuming that’s where you’d like to be?” More nods from the both of us, though Robby looks at me to check before he answers and I love him even more for it. 

We discuss diet, exercise, and what to expect in the coming months as I progress. It’s exhausting and informative. When we finish and the doc leaves the room so I can get changed, I’m feeling a little overwhelmed and I can tell he is too. 

“That was… a lot. You doing okay?” My shoulders feel tense and I make a conscious effort to drop them down from my ears before responding. 

“Yeah, but agreed. A lot to process in such a short period of time.”

“Want to go get lunch and then nap on the couch together?” He knows me so well.  

“That sounds perfect.” 

Iris

The week it takes for my NIPT results to show up on my MyChart drags by. I get the notification that I have a new lab result while standing at the nurses station, and Dana immediately notices my change in demeanor. 

“Whatcha got there?” She asks as she peers over my shoulder to see what has so suddenly shifted my attention to my phone. 

“It’s my NIPT results - they literally just showed up. I really don’t want to check at work but fuck I really want to know!!” The shift is not quite over, and I've used enough sick time recently that I don’t want to sacrifice another hour just so I can look at these a little early. 

“I can cover for you, if you want to go step out for a bit and check.” Bless her, she really has been stepping up for me the last few months but if I check them now there’s literally no way I’ll be able to focus until shift change. And Robby is here, currently busy in a patient room but he’ll definitely notice that I’m acting weird. 

“Nah, I can wait. Any tasks that need doing? Getting to work will be the fastest way to pass the next hour and it will distract me.” She points me in the direction of central 7, where a poor 67 year old man who desperately needs a catheter sits uncomfortably in the bed. I grab the bladder scanner, a foley kit, and my size sterile gloves and then head into the room. 

After draining a staggering 1500mL from that poor man's bladder, I find that there’s still a half hour left before I can check my phone. It is currently sitting in my locker, far enough away that I won’t be tempted to just check it and satisfy my curiosity. Luckily (for me, not the patient) there’s a new EMS rolling in just as I start to go looking for more things to do. They need a line, labs, an EKG, and to be cleaned up and by the time Donnie and I finish it’s just past shift change. 

Robby is already in the process of signing out to Jack - so I let myself go grab my phone. I refrain from checking just yet, wanting to confirm plans with Robby before I do so. He meets me at my car after he’s done for the day, finding me reading on my kindle while I wait. 

“You still planning on coming over tonight?” I ask as he leans down into where I have the driver's side window open.

“Yeah, just gotta run home and change first and then I’ll head your way. Thai food still okay with you?” We’ve been doing takeout after shifts recently, neither of us wanting to cook after working three days in a row. I confirm my order with him and he quickly ducks his head to kiss my cheek after making sure there’s no witnesses before we part ways for the next hour or so. 

I manage to make it all the way home before I cave and check my phone. I pull it out and immediately log in to my MyChart and reading my results. No genetic abnormalities - everything looks perfect. I scroll to the chromosomal results that will determine the gender and smile to myself. No evidence of a Y chromosome, meaning that baby is more than likely a girl. Not that I would’ve been disappointed with a boy but I most definitely hoped for a girl. 

I bound up my stairs after going inside and grab the bag I have ready for Robby, making sure to pick the one with the pink t-shirt and throwing the blue one back into my closet. The bag gets placed on the kitchen counter and I go back upstairs to shower and put on pajamas. The pink set I pick out is a little different from my usual sleep shorts and giant t-shirt, a tank top that’s form fitting enough that my bump is clearly visible and the shorts do very little to cover my legs. He’s going to have no idea what hit him. 

One and a half episodes of New Girl later, Robby walks in the front door. He sets our food down on the coffee table in front of me before going to the kitchen to grab plates. The bag on the counter catches his attention almost immediately as he enters the kitchen, just like I expected it to. 

“What’s this?” 

“For later, let’s eat first.” I can tell he wants to continue investigating and is a little suspicious of me but I’m going to let him stew for a while. He’s trying SO hard not to stare at me, and not really succeeding. It’s empowering as hell, and he doesn’t know it yet but he’s about to get so fucking lucky - if things go according to my plan then we’ll spend the rest of tonight in my bed. 

A while turns out to be just one more episode of New Girl, and then the anticipation starts getting to me. He takes our dishes and leftovers to the kitchen and I tell him to grab the gift bag on his way back. He eyes me like he’s a little scared of whatever I have planned and I don’t really blame him. 

“Go ahead, open it!” I tell him as he sits down next to me. The blanket I had draped over my legs has been kicked to the floor and I watch his eyes run up and down my body before forcing his attention back to what he’s doing. He takes the paper out and pulls out the baby pink t-shirt I bought for him. The front is blank so he’s a little confused at first. “Turn it around.” He does so and reads the ‘support your local girl dad’ that’s written across the back. The shirt joins the blanket on the floor as he all but tackles me into a hug.

“It’s a girl?”

“It’s a girl. No genetic abnormalities, everything looks perfect. I got the results today while we were at work and it took all my self control not to check them until I got home.” 

“That’s amazing - oh my god! A girl!” He’s laughing and crying as we cling to each other, his hands staying very politely on my back. 

“There’s one other thing, but I can’t really put it in a bag for you to open.” He pulls back a little bit and with how we’ve ended up on the couch his face is right above mine as he holds himself up on his elbows. Before he can ask me what it is I put my hands on the back of his neck and pull him down to me so I can kiss him.

[joelmillersonlyprincess]

To be loved

Chapter 2: Rewriting history

Joel Miller X fem!OC

What if Joel lived through what Abby did to him?How would he and his little family navigate life.

Feedback welcome! I really hope you guys like this!!

If you want to be added to the tag list. Please feel free to let me know.

Disclaimer: This is a fix it fic staring from season two ep two. If you sympathize with Abby I suggest you don't read further. I respect that some people do. And this is definitely not the fic for you if you do.

Warnings: swearing,multiple character death,guns, actual guns going off, pregnancy, smut in later chapters)

Word count: 3000+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joel dropped to the ground instantaneously, blinding white hot pain coursed through his body. His first instinct was to grab ahold of his knee, as if it was going to do something other than to slow the bleeding of his now shattered knee cap. Mel looked away, sick to her stomach at the scene unfolding. But this was what she signed up for.

To kill a man for something he had done in the past. Perhaps she didnt expect it to happen this way? Maybe she didnt expect to have an audience that was awake. Loved ones having to forcefully watch as someone they cared for was now being ripped from them. The woman, bound and gagged on the floor mere feet away now had tears streaming down her face. She had been the one to scream when the first shot was fired. Now it didnt seem so-

“ tourniquet him. “ Abby's voice broke her train of thought instantaneously with a statement she most definitely wanted no part of. Yet, had no choice. Mel was their only trained or somewhat trained doctor after all.

“ No, Abby please.. “

“ Mel, let's just do what we came to do “ THe man Owen now spoke over her, in his mind there was no use arguing with Abby. This had to be done, there was no other way. In his mind, Abby was the only one who could choose how to proceed, they should follow her.

Reluctantly, Mel unbuckled her belt and slid it out from the loops of her jeans. She hated Abby for this right now, hated Owen as well for this. Yet, she was still following the orders she was given as she moved to crouch down alongside Joel. Looping her belt just above his knee and pulling with all her strength.

Joel is screaming now, the pain almost unbearable and yet this tourniquet prolonged his life for now. Mel excused herself from his side the moment it was secure, giving Abby the moment to approach and crouch down beside him. It was almost as if she was observing him now. Get a feel for how things were going to unfold just based on his reaction. Joel wasn't too keen on giving her any sort of reaction she wanted.

“ You're tough.I guess you probably have to be, killing all those people.Do you know how many you killed that day? “ Abby's stare never left Joel's face, she had to see if he remembered, if he knew what she was talking about. She wanted him to know what this was all about before she was to torture him, to kill him.

“ Did you count as you went, or...I guess maybe it just didn't matter? “ Silence, dead silence from Joel as she spoke. She wanted the floor after all. Interrupting her would really get them nowhere. Not even Emori struggling against her bindings in the background would knock her out of her concentration. Abby wanted to savor this, that much was for sure.

“ Eighteen soldiers..And one doctor.You remember that one.” Abby tilts her head, elbow pressing into her leg as she kneeled a little closer to him. Joel's body shaking slightly, something that couldn't be helped considering the unmeasurable announcement of pain coursing through him. “ An unarmed doctor you shot in the head.” The realization dawns on Joel's face. Something no one would have been able to hide. He remembered that day as if it was yesterday and not five long years ago. The man was going to kill Ellie for something he could never accomplish. Being a completely inexperienced doctor he couldn't even begin to concoct a cure for the world.

“ Yeah…That was my dad.” A tear ran down her cheek as she was filled with emotions from the memories, having to recall everything she had seen and was told about that day, “ Guess you probably already figured. “

“The nurses said you barely even looked at him when you pulled the trigger.And then, you just walked right past his body and out the door. “ Abby was speaking to him in detail, things Joel already knew but wasn't at all for his benefit. “ But I looked at him….I saw him. “

“ I was 19. “ The others around him looked at joel in disgust and yet, couldn't even look the man in the eye knowing what was to come. To afraid to own up to what they where a part of. Or rather what they where about to be a part of.

“ I've been in a militia for five years now. “ Abby was trying to hold back her own emotions, her tears that threatened to spill over. Soon enough, everyone that cared for Joel would feel that same heart beat she had felt all those years ago. “... Seattle. I'd warn you not to go there, but.. little chance of that.” Abby seemed smug now, as if she was going over points in her life after that. To give him a story as to how it all led up to this moment

“ Anyway, our commander trained us to follow a code..We don't kill people that can't defend themselves. “ A sharp inhale fell from her lips as she now reached her hand out to Joel's brow, thumb brushing the sweat from along his forehead as if she really cared about that. “ And right now… “ A sick and twisted smirk fell upon Abby's feature, her hand pulling away from him now, “ that's you.. “. Another pause from her as she took a moment to really let it all sink in. “... But I am going to kill you. “

“ Because it doesn't matter if you have a code like me, or you're a lawless piece of sh¡t like you. “ As Abby spoke now her face flushed red, getting angrier, more upset as she made sure to speak without her voice breaking. Keep her tears at bay.

“ There are just some things… “ Abby swallows it all now. Things where coming to a head, quite literally. Now, she could really get started. “....everyone agrees are just fսcking wrong. “ Joel could only stare back at her, no words, not even a sound. Why entertain what she wanted after all? Why give that satisfaction?

Having to look away as her throat tightened with emotion, Abby's eye caught the attention of something, metal, shiny, before looking back at Joel with a clear plan now. Wiping her wet cheek with the side of her hand she sighed. Standing now she moved towards the set of golf clubs leaning against a wall not too far away.Owen, still with his gun trained on Joel in this moment, turned his head to see what she, their leader, was going to do next.

Abby's hand ran along the back of her neck as she seemed to take a very relived sigh “ You know, it's funny. I have waited so long… “

“ Oh, just shut the fսck up and do it already! “ Joel's strained voice ripped through her sentence. Not allowing her the chance to finish her little speech. If he was going to die then he most definitely didnt want to hear her drone on, hear her ramble about what her plan was and how she wanted to watch him die a slow and painful death.

An eyebrow rose as her mouth hung open for a moment, fingers lightly gliding over the metal of a golf club as she now sighed. Gripping the handle of one she pulled the club out slowly, sliding it from one hand into the other as she observed the object, soon to be a weapon. Twirling it within her grasp Abby turned back around now speaking up again. “ You... “ Her hands gripped the metal harsher now as she approached. “ stupid... old man.. “ Abby was now in front of him, knuckles white as she looked down on him. “ You don't get to rush this “ The golf club came down on his knee hard as a strangled scream ripped from Joel's throat, toppling over onto his side from his sitting position. A second hit came almost immediately, violently as Abby put all her strength into each one. Only to be followed by more screams from Joel.

Emori screamed in protest, everything muffled by the gag that had been tied around her head. Even as she was trying to plead, begging for it to stop, no one really could understand what she was saying. Not that anyone would care. They weren't here for her, they were here for Joel. To kill Joel, take out the one thing in her life that actually gave it meaning, the love of her life. The third time that club came down she heard Joel's screams,followed by whimpers of absolute agony. Agony that she could not stand to see. Emori couldn't lose him, couldn't stand it.

Not when he still had yet to meet their unborn child. Not when they still had plans to get married, to live their lives together after all the hardships they had endured in order to get where they were at one. Tears streamed down her face, practically hyperventilating as she struggled against the ties that bound her hands in front of her tightly. Maybe? Maybe she could get to her gun they had tossed aside, it wasn't too far? Would she really risk it all to do that?

What she didnt notice was Dina, who appeared to have a similar idea as her. Slipping in and out of focus she caught sight of her rifle, inching slowly towards it. The injection didnt exactly last as long as they had planned, yet the effects were still messing with her head as she tried her best to focus. It couldn't end this way, it simply could not. Joel was like a father figure to Dina as well. He meant a lot to her, to her friends. Joel really had become a big part of the community even if he didnt see that.

Hit after hit.

Screaming,

Struggling,

sobbing.

It was all starting to blend together,numbingly. Both Dina and Emori heard it all and yet none of the members of Abby's party were paying any attention to them. They were too busy looking away, avoiding facing the reality of it all. It was either that or they were staring directly at the massacre unfolding.

“ You didnt give her enough”

“ fuck you! “

Somewhere in the distance Mel and Manny are arguing about Dina.

Nothing is going right. The storm rages on outside, snow whipping around in tendrils. Almost blinding to the naked eye.

“ Please make her stop. “ voices are muffled now.

“ Abby.. “

“ Abby. “

“Abby. “

Time, so much time seemed to pass by.

Ellie now enters through the front door of the cabin that was left slightly opened. Someone had to have been in a rush not to close it completely upon entering. Down the hall she could hear it,muffled noises, screams, sobs of other people. Carefully Ellie took steady, quiet steps toward the noise, gun out and ready. Calling out for Joel? Emori? Dina? All a bad idea at this moment. It was better to err on the side of caution.

“ Abby! “

Painful moans could be heard from behind the door, Joels, definitely Joels no doubt. Her free hand reached for the door handle. Pulling on it carefully. Turning the door handle just enough as she pulled back in it in order to make no noise. There she saw it, Joel laying on the ground, beaten, bloody and broken. Dina unconscious in the corner and Emori? Her hands were bound and yet, still she was inching towards a gun, her gun that had been tossed aside in the initial interaction.

The second Emori has it within her fingertips adrenaline surges through Ellie and she charges in, gun raised directly at Abby. Manny rushes at Ellie in order to stop her from interfering. Only it never happens, a shot rings off and Manny falls short, collapsing to the ground. The bullet shot from Emori's gun, right into Manny's back. It had to be this way, it just had to be. At that same moment Ellie had gotten a shot off on Abby. Effectively stopping her assault on Joel and any further plans she may have had to continue it. Abby laid there limp on the ground, dead or alive, that was yet to be confirmed. They still had Owen, Mel and Nora to deal with, maybe they should have thought this through better.

“ LEAVE! “ Ellie screams now, gun pointing now at Owen. The only one she had seen with a gun in his hand at that very moment, “ Theres a fuck tun of us coming up that hill and you wont fucking make it out of here alive if you fucking stay here! “ It was a lie, every single word of it. Only one person was coming up that hill. Only one person had been with Ellie on what initially was a standard patrol. He would be there soon, Jesse would be there soon and they could all get out of there alive. For the love of fuck everyone alive.

The remaining three look between one another, as if to contemplate their choices, as if they really had any. Both Ellie and Emori had their guns trained on one of them. So even if they tried anything, most of them couldn't get very far.

They were scrambling now, grabbing their belongings and arguing amongst each other in a rush. None of them could get out of the door fast enough as they fled the cabin. Presumably back to where they came from in the first place. They had a chance at life, at least for now, why would they not take the option?

“ Joel.. Joel baby please.. “

Emori moved herself to Joel's still breathing body as Ellie practically sprinted there. Using her knife to cut the bindings on her hands so the two could carefully handle Joel. A sharp groan fell from his lips the second they touched him. How were they going to move him? How where they going to get him home in order to get him the help he so desperately needed in order to survive. Ellie's sobbing now, overwhelmed and not entirely sure what to do. The beating was over but the fight for Joel's life was far from that.

“ Joel.. you've got to stay with us, we're going to get you home baby please. “ Emori's voice is soft, desperate and choked with sobs as the two move carefully in order to turn him over. In order to transport him back to Jackson properly they had to. Even with his groans and sharp gasps of protest.

“ We're going to get you help, Joel.. “ Ellie's voice came next, reluctantly moving away to get to Dina. Help her, get her up on her feet so they could all get out of there and back home. Jesse came rushing into the scene not long after that, mere minutes, maybe even seconds. The man was shocked at the scene before him, entirely blown away by it all.

“ Jesse!.. Help Emori get Joel loaded up.. We have to get him back to Jackson, NOW! “ Ellie is demanding, no begging him to help them and get a move on as quickly as possible. They had no time to waist, no time for any mistakes. So much so they no one bothered to check and see if Abby was truly dead or not. All that mattered was that she remained there, on that floor. They could always come back and deal with what was left of her later.

Within minutes the group managed to load up onto the three horses that had been left. Rushing home to Jackson as quickly as they could without causing anyone any further injuries than they already had. At least they tried their very best to do so.

—

Back in Jackson the walls where down, some half gone but for the most part it still stood. Tommy, Maria, Benji , everyone was still alive after a massive horde of infected had ripped through the town.Joel was now rushed into what was their hospital. A building they had turned into what they needed for medical needs. Doctors, those that were on hand rushed to help, pulling him into the back. Where neither Emori or Ellie could follow. They had to trust that they where going to do their best, for Joel, for them, for their little family and those yet to come.

It didn’t take long for word to reach Tommy, Joel’s brother. Anything he had been doing prior could wait. For now Maria could handle it, when she could Maria would join them. But for now Tommy had to get there immediately. He had to be there for whatever was to happen next. Be there for Ellie, the kid was practically his daughter. For Emori, the woman was soon to be his wife, the mother of his brothers child.

Bursting through those doors, Tommy didn’t stop until he was with them. Immediately going to pull Emori into a hug. Doing the same with Ellie, he didn’t exactly give the kid an option to decline. They both needed it, he needed it. Those two where the only piece he had of his brother currently. Joel just had to pull through this, he had been through worse. None of them could bear to lose him.

“ He’s strong, it’s going to be ok. “ Tommy spoke reassuringly, not just for them. But for himself as well. They couldn’t accept anything less.

[ssouverain]

i will never shut up about how bad he hates clothes

[anyoldfandom]

The problem with starting to think about the Pack more is the fact that now I want to grab Skalamander the same way I grabbed Bobo like. My house now. I want to use your character potential.

[3liza]

i said this YEARS ago when the 'vibes based literacy" discussion started because i had been reading about dyslexia to try to help my partner at the time, who was undiagnosed: the book about dyslexia that i was reading described precisely the techniques used in the "contextual guessing" reading education system, but as dysfunctional adaptations by dyslexic children. the contect guessing and memorization thing is a way of teaching entire generations of children to be functionally dyslexic, a profound and devastating disability, when they do not have dyslexia and do not need to have it. it's horrifying. it was how my partner read things, and watching him try to read something out loud was extremely demonstrative of the struggle he was having.

ken goodman probably had dyslexia and didn't know it, it's the most common learning disability in the world, an estimated 20% of all humans on earth have some degree of it.

In the paper, Goodman rejected the idea that reading is a precise process that involves exact or detailed perception of letters or words. Instead, he argued that as people read, they make predictions about the words on the page using these three cues: 1. graphic cues (what do the letters tell you about what the word might be?) 2. syntactic cues (what kind of word could it be, for example, a noun or a verb?) 3. semantic cues (what word would make sense here, based on the context?) Goodman concluded that: Skill in reading involves not greater precision, but more accurate first guesses based on better sampling techniques, greater control over language structure, broadened experiences and increased conceptual development. As the child develops reading skill and speed, he uses increasingly fewer graphic cues.

he's completely wrong, this not how fully literate people read. this is how dyslexic people read. fully literate people are using phonics and the alphabet all the time, that's how we read so fast and so easily, even texts that we're unfamiliar with or that aren't in our native language. i can scan a page of italian, french or norwegian and get the gist of it even though i don't speak the languages. i can sound out those words and pronounce them, even if im pronouncing them incorrectly, just by reading the actual letters and phonemes.

relying on context to predict which word comes next is what leads to the kind of aphasia dyslexics often exhibit not only while reading, but when speaking aloud. my partner would swap words that were contextually correct but not what he actually meant all the time. for example if he wanted me to hand him a blue comb lying nearby on a table, he would say "could you please hand me the green brush?" or if he was describing a cat he saw, he would often swap in another contextually-related word, one that sounded the same, like "bat", or one that was conceptually related but incorrect, like "dog". as a result i had to ask him to clarify or repeat himself many times to figure out what he was trying to say. it created profound problems for him and separated him from me and everyone else. the worst part is that he was barely aware of this. when he was driving it was extremely difficult for him to follow or give directions because he would swap out "left" and 'right" randomly.

you cant actually read like this.

She thinks the students who learned three cueing were actually harmed by the approach. "I did lasting damage to these kids. It was so hard to ever get them to stop looking at a picture to guess what a word would be. It was so hard to ever get them to slow down and sound a word out because they had had this experience of knowing that you predict what you read before you read it."

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. height difference + jjk men — seeing you struggling to initiate a kiss, ft. gojo, nanami, toji, choso

note. super self indulgent once again woopsies

tags. jjk men x female reader (separately). fluff, suggestive themes. size difference obviously: reader is shorter than the characters. little hint of an age gap in toji’s part (you; early 20’s, he early 30’s). reader gets referred to as ‘small, short, adorable’. nicknames used ‘baby, sweetheart, princess, little girl, angel’. includes drabbles for each character.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

“what’s the matter, baby?” satoru easily notices whenever you’re internally debating something. you’d fidget with your clothes, look around and nibble on your bottom lip.

even if you say that it’s nothing, your lover knows that you mean the exact opposite. he walks hand-in-hand with you out of the boutique where he had bought you a pretty dress. his thumb rubs your skin gently, hoping to comfort you with whatever you’re struggling to say.

“it’s uhm,” you finally speak up. satoru halts his steps and tilts his head with a curious pout on his lips. he doesn’t wish to pressure you into anything, so he keeps quiet.

his blue eyes follow your movements from behind his sunglasses. you step closer to him, your small hands travelling up to gently hold onto his jacket. you gulp before balancing your entire body on your toes—creasing your shoes a bit by doing so.

at this point, satoru knows what you’re trying to do. your actions are absolutely adorable and make the sorcerer giggle. he wants nothing more than to squish your cheeks together for being so cute. especially because you’re failing to reach his lips.

“oh, do y’need help maybe?” satoru asks with a smug grin. you frown and try to stand on the tips of your toes, though that didn’t seem enough. your lover needs to lower his head a tad more for you to kiss him.

satoru tilts his head backwards instead. he loves to see you pout and struggle to carry out such an affectionate act. he can’t help it—you’re so fun to tease, “c’mon, you can do it, baby!”

when you give up due to his constant teasing, the white-haired man gasps dramatically. you smack his bicep and turn around with a huff, “forget it.”

before you can take another step away from him—satoru’s hand reaches out to hold your wrist. he pulls you back against his chest, warm palm holding your cheek and tilting your head up so his glossy lips could meet yours.

“sorry,” satoru mutters against your mouth. his tongue sneakily swipes against yours which causes you to squirm. he gives your bottom lip a playful nibble in response, “couldn’t resist teasing you a little.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

“welcome home, dear!” you greet kento at the front door as per usual. he sighs in relief and smiles tiredly, appreciating your appearance before him. he seems utterly exhausted from his most recent mission.

“it’s good to see you, sweetheart,” kento shuts the door behind him. he takes off his shoes and places them where they belong before doing the same with his coat. he looks down at you as you help him tidy his belongings, “you’re looking beautiful tonight.”

to say you’re flustered is an understatement. kento always knows just how to get you shy and embarrassed from the casual way he compliments you. you’re in your pyjamas and apron—barefaced with nothing extra going on and yet your lover is completely engrossed by your looks.

“thank you,” you murmur back with a bright smile. kento smiles as well after seeing your happy expression. that’s what he does it for.

you hold kento’s hand and feel its warmth engulf your skin. his palms are a little rough; probably from the hard work he put into those recent missions he did. you look up at the blonde man in front of you and want nothing more than to kiss him—show your gratitude for everything he does for you.

thus, you lean in and stand on your toes, balancing on one foot whilst the other floats a few centimetres above the wooden floor. it’s hard to find a balance, though your attentive partner is quick to lend a hand.

“careful,” kento whispers, his voice so husky that you feel a shiver run down your spine. his big hands settle on your waist and he doesn’t waste a single second after that.

he leans in as well, head lowered to yours and your noses lightly brushing against each other. kento’s lips find your soft ones—interlocking them in a passion filled kiss. you can feel his entire body relax even more. as if he’s waited all day to be back home. to be back to you.

to kiss and hold you close.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

“over here, princess,” toji calls you over with a subtle wave. he’s leaning against a brick wall, hands in the pockets of his black jacket. you walk over to him with an excited smile—happy to spend some quality time together with him today.

“hey, i missed you,” you comment and wrap your arms around his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest to which toji reacts by giving you an awkward head pat.

the older man lifts your head up and away from his body by holding onto your chin. his eyes run over your face, letting out a short content hum. he’s missed you a lot too. not that he’d tell you that directly.

“how’s uni for ya?” toji asks. the pad of his thumb rubs your cheek and you lean into his touch. it brings a little smirk to his face—seeing how easily you become putty in his hands is rather amusing.

“been okay for most part,” you shrug and fail to maintain eye contact with your boyfriend. he probably doesn’t do it on purpose, but his half-lidded eyes makes your lower abdomen feel funny.

you’re still so nervous around him, though you’ve got the guts to at least kiss him first. you missed the feeling of his lips against you after all. the constant, soothing rubs of his thumb against your cheek only intensifies your desire.

you lift yourself up on the tips of your shoes. your cold hands cup toji’s face and he immediately gets what you’re trying to do. he snickers at the sight of you struggling to reach him and acts like he doesn’t know what you want.

. . until you whine about how you really want to kiss him. that man is sold the moment he hears your whiny voice.

“fuck. c’mere, little girl,” toji’s veiny hands go around your waist and move down to cup your ass, his lips crashing down onto yours with a desperation he’s never kissed you with before.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

“do i need to add salt? she’s talking too fast,” choso ask whilst scratching his head. he’s watching a youtube video on his phone; specifically a cooking one. he’s attempting to copy a recipe in his kitchen and you’re helping him since he doesn’t know too much about phones. and cooking apparently.

you giggle and grab the phone from the counter. the lady’s words are incomprehensible due to the video being on two times the usual speed. you return the settings to normal with a light hearted chuckle, “yeah, because you’ve sped up the video, silly.”

“oh,” choso smiles sheepishly. he checks the stove and makes sure the food isn’t burning before turning towards you, “thank you. you’re a lifesaver, heh.”

you can’t help but admire the view of choso in front of you. he’s in an apron which is too small on him since it’s yours—his chiseled chest accentuated by the fabric. his black hair is up in a small ponytail and his cheeks are red. probably from embarrassment.

“you’re adorable,” you comment lovingly. choso’s cheeks turn even redder by your compliment and he sputters some words about how he ‘needs to focus on his cooking’.

you interrupt his stammers by getting closer. your lover stops and his lips are parted—giving you the perfect chance to capture them into a kiss. well, you try to at least

choso notices your silent struggles and blinks. it takes him a second to fully grasp the situation before he decides on helping you. he smiles warmly, his beefy arms effortlessly lifting you up to his height, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

one hand is on your thigh, the other holding the back of your head to deepen your shared kiss. choso pulls away and attaches his lips to your neck, settling you the counter, “want more, angel. you drive me crazy.”

[salemlunaa]

𓆉 ˚∘YOU ARE NOT BOUND TO THIS REALITY࿐

stop acting like this place is your home, it’s not. Same thing with those trying to manifest things. You’re manifesting a new body but You believe that your home is the reality where you hate your body and that you’re doing something grand and groundbreaking by trying shift from that. You want your dream life through the void state. But you believe this reality you’re experiencing right now is your home. Your base point. Your starting ground. And you think that because you are so tied to this reality by scripting and shifting to a new life you’re doing something crazy and out-of-body like.

Let me tell you something. You aren’t. This is going to sound insane but you are as close to this reality as you are to your dream life. You are as bound to the reality where you have your dream green eyes than you are to the “current” where you have blue eyes that you don’t want.

The only reason that us bloggers use the term “current reality” is because this is the reality where your consciousness lies. I will say this again: there are multiple different versions of you reading this that you aren’t aware of and they’re probably not aware of you. Think of the country you live in right now. There’s a version of you that is from somewhere else and may know nothing about the place you call home and haven’t even stepped foot there. It’s so trippy to think about but what i’m trying to get at is that this isn’t your home. It’s nothing to be scared of, shouldn’t it be empowering and comforting to know you could be anyone you want to be?

like this is literally you:

(found this from @shiftinglea)

It’s so easy to shift your consciousness it’s not something you need to mentally prep for, there’s nothing to do. As soon as you want and intend the shift, it happens, regardless of what you’re seeing. You aren’t stuck here, and it pains me when you guys speak about circumstances as if they’re permanent. They don’t have to exist at all. There is no journey, it’s just immediate teleportation. Think as if. Think of your “desired reality” as your current. Place your awareness there.

The reason you have so much resistance is because you believe you have to. Deep down, you believe effort is needed to leave, you believe you need some extravagant journey as you’re leaving the place you felt bound to all this time. You don’t, you’ve left. you’ve shifted. You can’t grasp that nothing, absolutely nothing needs to be done to enter the state of pure consciousness, your literal naked self.

You believe it needs to be hard because it’s too good to be true.

Leave that belief behind. You aren’t far from your life. The life you intend to have. In fact, you’re right there. Think of all these realities like your children. All of them are related to you in the same way. You don’t have one child that you’re absolutely bound to, assuming you’re a good parent with no favourites. They’re ALL close to you in the SAME PROXIMITY. They ALL have the same relation to you. It’s YOUR BLOOD aka YOU running through their veins, all of them, the veins of all these realities, even the ones you aren’t conscious of yet. You aren’t just bound to one.

So you don’t need to work super hard for that body, that shift, that face. When we say it’s yours we aren’t just trying to be encouraging it’s just facts. I’m not the most well versed marvel fan, but does Dr. Strange have a hard time shifting or does he just know where he wants to go and opens those portal thingys? Be like him. Know where you want to go and leave.

Wash your hands of what you don’t want and think as if. Thinking as if = placing your consciousness in desired state = you are in desired state = 3d will follow.

This isn’t home base. There isn’t a home base. Take that into consideration when you’re struggling to truly “just be” while trying to induce the void.

THESE REALITIES ARE ALL THE SAME. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS DECIDE WHERE YOU WANT TO BE ࿐

[smallestapplin]

Warnings : harem, human reader left GN!, autobots, in a meeting no less, belly bulge

🔞MDNI 18+ only🔞

-

-

-

Imagine being the darling of the autobots.

You practically live at their base, help them in their respective works, maybe even giving them ideas they hadn't thought of in the heat of the moment. They adore you, but it's common knowledge between them at least, that they all want you.

You don't notice that Optimus has you smelling like a truck, his scent pouring off of you in waves, confusing some if they don't see you first, thinking it's their boss, but no it's little ol' you.

Or how Sidesipe and Sunstreaker team up to get you away from Prowl, ho has no problem chasing them down to get you back.

Or that Bee follows you around, or carries you around, like an excited puppy, he just wants to be around you at all times and gets huffy if your time is taken up by another.

But it doesn't take too long for someone to cave and confess their love to you, and just when Jazz does so, so does everyone else, arguing that they love you more and just want to spoil and protect you.

So why not share?

Surprisingly everyone agreed and came up with a schedule so everyone could have time with you.

Maybe that's how you ended seated on Optimus's spike in the middle of a meeting, just keeping him warm in front of everyone. You can feel so many optics on you, staring at your trembling body, watching you struggle to stay still on the massive spike stretching you out.

You're not even half way down Optimus's shaft, but even so there is so much transfluid leaking from where you two connect. You can't even hear what the boss bot is talking about, your mind is fried and your stomach bulging from the intrusion.

And all while being watched? You know most of the bots in the room aren't even listening, just captivated by the sight of you.

The knowledge makes you clench around Optimus, making him tremble and fumble is words midspeech.

You don't want to disturb or interrupt them, but you're so close to cumming-!!

You bite down on your hand, trying so hard to muffle your squeal. Your juices coat the spike inside you, sliding down the rest of his shaft. Your climax has Optimus overloading, covering your insides with his transfluid, but it's so much and gushing out from around him.

By the time you two are done, he carefully lifts you off him, giving the top of your head a tender kiss, before passing you off to Prowl so he could continue what he was saying.

And given such a chance in front of everyone? Oh, of course he's going to use it to prove he's the best at pleasing you.

It becomes increasingly harder to listen to Optimus when you're sobbing and shrieking over his words, pleading 's-slow down! I can't- fuuuck!'

Drooling and crying as your hole gets stuffed with Prowl's thick spike.

Faintly you can hear Bee and Hot Rod whining, probably begging to go next with you, or trying not to touch themselves at the sight of your fucked out expression.

You're just going to be passed around after he overloads, just to let everyone have a taste of you.

So what's a few more climaxes when you'll get the best aftercare?

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[blackkatdraws2]

YITUR. KALLITU.

[ORV] (TW: Implications of SA, Non-consenting Pregnancy, Abuse)

"I was scared. What if I gave birth to a monster? What if my child ate me? One day, suddenly tearing out of my belly and killing me." "I was alone for countless nights, ran away and avoided monsters while feeling worried. What should I do about this child? Should I kill it, let it live, or…" - Chapter 251: Episode 47 – Demon King Selection (5)

BAH, BLASTED LINEART. HOW COME YOU LOOK BETTER, HUH?!

[Yapping Time:]

THIS WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS.

(TW: SA/Rape (analogy), Non-consenting Pregnancy, (Child) Abuse)

Hiiii it's time for me to make a serious character essay again about a silly corporate shit man that canonically birthed a child and became a mum, hellooo /silly

Chapter 1: Episode 1 – Starting the Paid Service (1)

Chapter 2: Episode 1 – Starting the Paid Service (2)

Chapter 6: Episode 2 – Protagonist (1)

Chapter 21: Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (3)

Han Myungoh is introduced to us as a shit corporate finance department head that's self-absorbed, cowardly, and misogynistic (as he harasses Yoo Sangah because she rejected him.)

Chapter 4: Starting the Paid Service (4)

Although, he does show basic human sympathy and regards when he tries to stop Kim Namwoon from killing a weak grandmother inside the train, showing that his morals are somewhat still aligned with good despite eventually backing away and watching the murder happen alongside everyone else. Not that it makes him any less unlikable.

Chapter 7: Episode 2 – Protagonist (2)

Chapter 9: Episode 2 – Protagonist (4)

He's then shown to continuously do and say things that hinder or annoy the progress of Kim Dokja and the others in the following chapters after this. It's easy to understand why he's plain annoying.

Chapter 21: Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (3)

Chapter 22: Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (4)

Then when the Dark Keeper turns Han Myungoh into a "Yitur", he gets to experience one of the biggest fear/struggles of womanhood. Rape (analogy) and non-consenting pregnancy.

Chapter 206: Episode 39 – Unidentified Wall (3)

This even gets confirmed in chapter 206 when Kim Dokja thinks about how "Asmodeus’ curse consumed probability to realize the ‘most terrible thing’ that the target thought of," meaning that pregnancy was the thing that Han Myungoh feared the most after the incident with the Dark Keeper.

Now, not only was he thrust into a situation where his body was doing something he never thought was even possible, he foolishly finishes off the demon and was now being hunted down by the Demon King, Asmodeus.

Chapter 204: Episode 39 – Unidentified Wall (1)

Skipping ahead, Han Myungoh disappears for a bit and is eventually reintroduced back into the story when Kim Dokja finds him in hell, now turned into a demon due to Asmodeus' influence on him. Han Myungoh now turned into a subordinate of the Demon King, all for the sake of his daughter.

Han Dareum is the daughter Han Myungoh birthed after being impregnated by the Dark Keeper's eggs and cursed by Asmodeus. He didn't mean or want to be in this situation, but unless he wanted his daughter to die, he had to be.

For the sake of his daughter, he chooses to serve under the very same man who stole and took control over the body of his daughter in order to use her as his Incarnation Body. (Basically child abuse, even if Han Dareum was unconscious most of the time. And this is the only thing keeping Han Myungoh working under Asmodeus.)

Chapter 251: Episode 47 – Demon King Selection (5)

"Come to think of it, Han Myungoh had really experienced many things. In a sense, he might've had a harder time than me."

Kim Dokja even says this himself. Because, unlike Kim Dokja, Han Myungoh was just a completely normal middle-aged person. Gave birth, survived and raised a child all on his own, no help from the 4th-wall, no reliable people by his side, and has a Demon King actively AFTER HIM. Crazy Work.

He's not a main character by any chance, but Han Myungoh's efforts and experiences are worthy of recognition, and Kim Dokja does just that. It's insane.

Chapter 259: Episode 49 – The Best at Something (1)

Now it's said that he also has postpartum depression. (This was probably for shits and giggles on the author's part though,) and he's on a damn apocalypse, which means he's always on a high stress situation.

This scenario is completely assumption on my part, but how terrifying must it have been to have your child in your arms and feel the urge to throw it on the ground or the wall? PPD is dangerous, he must've felt the urge to do it, at least once.

Han Dareum was probably lucky she grew up faster than human children, I think Han Myungoh would've actually done it considering the, quite frankly, absurd situation and stress he's constantly put under, and shortly after childbirth too. (Unless the dude had crazy will power or they both died, which did almost happen, and it's the reason Han Myungoh gave up his daughter to Asmodeus, it was to save her.)

To top it all off, he refused to leave Han Dareum when she was taken away by Asmodeus, and his entire arc throughout the Whole Novel was literally him trying his darndest to get her back, whether it's doing dirty work for other people or being an underling of Kim Dokja's.

W parent. Han Myungoh.

_____

Of course, this doesn't mention all the things that happened to him or the things I like about him because I want to save some for later posts.

[maruflix]

MEA CULPA

The Salesman knows that love is truly the most dangerous game of all, and there is penance in yearning for someone who can never be yours. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa.

feat. the salesman / the recruiter　　⎯⎯　wc. 2.4k

cw: female reader, recruiter!reader, cheater!reader, language, the salesman is probably ooc, unreciprocated crush, one sided love, friends with benefits, cheating, kissing, choking, face-fucking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, slight frontman x reader, no beta we die like gi-hun’s mom

I.

Busan is so hot this time around.

You plop down with a sigh. Thankfully, having met your daily quota, you can go home early tonight. There are lots of desperate people nowadays, so finding ten people to join a game with a prize of 45.6 billion won isn’t really that difficult.

The clacking of shoes snaps you from your trance.

Without having to look up, you immediately figure out who it is. The scent of expensive cologne comes first, followed by the rustling. You grumble and slam your briefcase down, using it as a wall to separate the two of you. “Hey, not-so-friendly reminder: you’re on my turf.”

The Salesman blinks at you, feigning surprise. “Oh? I was under the impression that this was a team effort.”

His innocent tone makes you want to hurl, so you choose to ignore him completely. Instead, you stare at him in annoyance and wonder how he’s able to look so perfect in that cashmere suit of his. Not a single hair out of place, his tie straight and his shoes laced.

“You’re done for the day, aren’t you?” Your colleague tilts his head to look at you, a smile adorning his features, “Let’s play a game.”

You scoff.

He ignores your obvious displeasure and inches his whole body to face you, one arm shooting forward to grip the side of your bench. “Say, should we play ddakji? I’m in a good mood today.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of smacking paper squares?” It’s hard to keep a straight face when his handsome face keeps getting closer to you, “Get your ugly face away from me.”

The Salesman doesn’t budge. “Not until you say yes.”

He has a certain charm to him, you had to admit— he is so assertive, with just the right amount of pushy but not to the point of being obtrusive.

“Fine,” you exhale, “what do I get?”

II.

When you agreed to play a game with your fellow Recruiter (specifically, the totally unhinged one you’ve grown to dub as ‘The Salesman’), you didn’t expect this to happen.

Your colleague’s body pressed on top of yours, both your suit jackets thrown away somewhere in his fancy condo—he doesn’t even bother to wait for you to finish unbuttoning your shirt before he captures your hands and pins them on top of your head.

“Fuck,” you rasp out when he pushes himself into you agonizingly slow, savoring the way you tighten around him, “s-slow down—”

He chuckles breathily. “Darling, I’m barely moving. Besides,” eyes clouded with lust, he revels in how defenseless you look under him, “you lost our game, so you’re in no position to tell me what to do.”

With that, he sloowly drags himself out before slamming his full length into you, causing you to moan loudly. Greedily, he drinks in the sight of you, sprawled on his bed, legs open, taking all of him like a good, good girl.

“Who knew you were hiding all this underneath that suit of yours?” He teases, running a hand over your breasts, “I should’ve done this sooner.”

“I can, ngh,” Pushing yourself up on one elbow, you use your other hand to grip his chin, yanking him closer to you, “say the same about you.”

His smirk widens. “Always has to get the last word.”

He grips your throat, pushing you back down to the bed as he picks up his pace, thrusting in and out of you mercilessly while you mewl in pleasure.

“F-fuck-” you struggle, clawing on the hand that lodges itself around your throat like a serpent, “ngh,”

Your panic excites him like no other. “What’s wrong, darling? Having trouble breathing?” straightening his back, he keeps his hand securely wrapped around your neck, eyeing you down as he continues drilling into you, “Do you realize how wet you are?”

You wanted to look away, but his strong hand firmly keeps you in place. It’s not like you can hide yourself away, not when the sounds of plap! plap! plap! keeps echoing around the room—a testament of how much your cunt is drooling, soaking the bedsheets. His constant pace feels so good, and the way he gazes at you makes you feel lightheaded.

“You’re- haah, so tight,” he feels how you’re spasming around him and groans, “enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” he’s all out of breath now—you feel so good when you clamp down on him like that, so right, like the two of you are made for each other.

“Fuck! Yes!” You whine, your nails digging into his back, delicious jolts of electricity running along your spine when his girthy cock hits your sweet spot over and over, “Don’t stop, I’m, ugh, close-”

He doesn’t miss the way your legs wrap around his waist, preventing him from pulling away. Raising an eyebrow, he loosens his grip on your neck to bend down to your eye level, “What’s this? You want me to fill you up?”

His thrusts never decelerates and you’re too fucked out to even muster a reply, your moans nearly drowned out by the sloppy sounds of skin slapping against skin.

“You want that, huh?” Although his voice drips with arrogance, he’s also reaching his limit—the sight of you with your cheeks flushed and mouth hanging open drives him to the edge of insanity. He throws his head back, groaning, shooting his load deep into your womb.

You’re still shaking when he lets go of your neck, falling on top of you. Before you can think about the consequences of your actions, the fatigue catches up with you. Your body feels heavy, like it’s being pulled to the center of the earth—and your world goes dark.

Sensing that you’re not moving, The Salesman takes a glance at you and finds out that he’s quite literally fucked you unconscious. “Hey.” he shakes your shoulders a bit, but you’re unresponsive, your chest heaving up and down.

He huffs and rolls down to your side, studying your sleeping figure with a smirk. You look so beautiful in your afterglow, your hair framing your face like a halo. Like a man possessed, he moves to your ear, mumbling—

��I like you.”

III.

You groan loudly when the scent of your colleague’s cologne invades your nostrils again, ignoring the weird looks you got from strangers boarding the oncoming train.

The Salesman bats his eyelashes at you innocently.

“No, I don’t want to play with you again.”

“Aw,” he straightens his tie, “even though you told me that you had such a good time?”

At a loss for words, you can only stare at him.

The motherfucker has the audacity to cross his arms over his chest, gasping, “Stop ogling me!”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Come on,” He scoots closer to rub the back of your hand sensually, “I know you want me.”

It’s always a game with him. You just don’t know what kind of game it is right now, and why he’s so hell-bent on having you as player two.

“Nah, I’m good. I have two bags of groceries to carry home, so good bye.”

The Salesman keeps a trained smile on his face, but his heart clenches—he doesn’t know when he started to view you differently. It was fun to pick on you at first, but he’s slowly started to feel weird around you.

Like watching an oncoming crash, he can’t bring himself to stop.

“Wait! Let me help!”

IV.

Looking back, you probably should’ve stood your ground. But it’s hard to say no to his stupidly handsome face.

Your groceries are forgotten, your apartment still dark. You probably should start cooking dinner, but instead you’re on your knees, your back pressed against the wall.

“Open up,” his eyes are as cold as ever, his lips pulled up to form a victorious smirk as he guides his leaking cock to rest on your mouth.

You find yourself obeying, allowing him to fill your mouth full of his cock. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size, already thrusting his hips, making you gag almost immediately.

“Just like that, baby,” he takes hold of the hands that’s trying to push him away and pins them against the wall, quickening, smirking down at you as you struggle to wrap your mouth around him, “You feel so good.”

Meanwhile, you’ve finally adjusted to his throbbing length. In an act of protest, you hollow your cheeks, deciding that it was your turn to dominate this man. You move your head to his pace and even quicker, your eyelashes wet with tears when you look up to glare at him.

He feels like he’s going to explode—your adorable defiance is so cute and your crying face—oh, don’t get him started on your crying face.

“Mmngh?!”

He jerks his hips sharply, moaning at how good it feels when the muscles of your cheeks tightens at the wide stretch of his cock. Oh, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you—

“Mmfh—?!”

Your muffled exclaim makes him halt and he looks down at your shocked face. Only now does the realization dawns on him that he’s accidentally said his thoughts out loud.

IV.

You no longer look up when you sense a presence sitting down next to you.

“This was a mistake.”

He’s silent, so you turn to look at him. The Salesman has a poker face on, but you can tell that he’s thinking. Contemplating.

“Honestly, stop it. I... I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

You sigh in frustration. “Look, I..” squirming in your seat, you finally confess, “I’m already in a relationship.”

“So?”

The genuine confusion in his tone makes you look at him in incredulousness. He doesn’t back down, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you to love me, I’m asking you to let me love you. I don’t care if you’re married—hell, I don’t care if you have kids.”

“Wha-” You flinch away from his touch, shocked, “W-well, I care!”

“Do you?” He shoots back, his gaze sardonic, you felt like you might crumble underneath it. “Is that why you begged me to cum inside you?”

“I-”

“I know you want me.” His smile is confident, “so stop acting. You suck at it.”

You tremble, but lets him guide you away.

V.

You’re whimpering, your hands shakily unbuttoning his dress shirt. In front of you, he chuckles, bringing his hands up to grip your waist and pushing them up and down.

“Wait, fuck,”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he murmurs, rocking you back and forth, “a purely physical relationship?”

The Salesman keeps his grudges, and right now he’s punishing you by rutting into you, sending you gasping and moaning, but he’s unrelenting—one of his arm circles your waist as he pulls you closer, his thumb starting to circle the nub of your clit.

“Fuck, please, please-”

“You want to cum?” He stops touching you and you whine in despair, leaning on his broad chest.

“Yes, yes, touch me-” you grab his hand and aligns it to your sopping wet hole, but he easily yanks his hand away.

“Say it.”

You’re close to crying now—your nerves are ablaze, but he refuses to let you reach your climax. “W-what?”

“Say you love me.” his hand hovers above your clit, “Say it.”

You know what you’re doing is wrong—but right now, all you wanted was release.

“I love you, fuck-” your body quivers when he instantly rewards you by a sharp thrust followed by his finger deliciously circling your sensitive nub, “I love you, I love you-”

He’s moaning with you now, shutting you up by kissing you sloppily on the lips, his free hand reaching to grab your hair, pulling it. You gasp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, tasting you fervently.

“‘m gonna-” Before you can finish, your orgasm shakes your whole body. You can feel your walls clenching and unclenching around his length, trying to milk him dry. He groans in response and buries his face on your neck, pushing his hips up and down to chase his own high. He fucks you through your orgasm, making you scream, pounding into you raw until he shoots his load. It trickles down your pussy onto his own shaft, coating it with a thin layer of cum.

He kisses the top of your head and lays you down on the bed, your body shuddering in his arms. “Now, was that so hard?”

You look away as he wraps an arm over your naked body, pulling you close to him.

The first ray of sunlight peeks through the curtains and you realize that you only have about four hours to sleep.

VI.

It’s unusual, but you were a special case: recruiters work on the outside world so there’s really no need for them to visit the game venue, but you’ve received a special invitation.

Your heels clicked against the hardwood floors as you pass by the guards. The Salesman follows you closely, ignoring the stares that he got.

“Ah, you’re finally here.”

The Salesman stops in his tracks when he sees a man in a black mask standing several steps away. The masked man puts away his mask to reveal his face and his heart drops.

“Oh, you’re here too. Have you come to watch 456 play?”

The Salesman stays silent when you smile and walk away from him to the direction of his boss, thinking— ‘so you weren’t lying after all.’

The Front Man instinctively wraps his arms around your waist, his lips claiming yours. “Long time no see,” your lover smiles as you rest your head on his chest. “I’ve been busy, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you mumble. You miss having him by your side—so much so that you let another man hold you in his absence.

“Come on, the games are going to start.” None the wiser to your actions, he guides you away, taking one last look at his other subordinate, “Don’t stick around too long, the VIP’s are going to arrive soon.”

The Salesman smiles and nods, watching as you disappear behind the double doors with your lover in tow. His heart feels like it’s being stabbed and ripped to shreds—deep inside, he has held out hope that you’re lying; making up excuses to ignore the obvious chemistry between the two of you.

Now, when he closes his eyes, all he can see is the image of you kissing another man—but can he blame you? You told him the truth, he was the one who chose to keep loving you like a fool; dancing to the beat of your rhythm, losing himself in the process—

You are not to blame, he is. He’s the one at fault; he’s the one to blame.

As he turns away and walks to the direction of the exit, all he can think about is this: Your lover may have you now, but when the games are over—oh, his turn will come.

Patience. Patience. Your turn will come. He repeats it like a mantra.

Patience.

note: ok this is probably the most self indulgent fic i’ve written. first time writing smut i hope i did okay 😭 anyway english is not my first language so please be gentle with me 😭

[lighting-and-shadow]

Ikigai, Part 10: A Soulmate's Love

Summary: A rescue mission, the meeting of the impossible, and the memory of what started it all.

Ikigai (n.) (Japanese): "A reason for being," the thing that gets you up in the morning.

Part 9 | Part 11 | Series Masterlist | LADS Masterlist

Your power’s been strange since that day you heard the melody. You haven't had the joyous occasion of it coming back into your life and your ears, but your heart still yearns for it, calls for it. You try not to dwell on it. That want, that need, takes backstage for the oddities that have been popping up since it first whispered in your ear.

Like now. You know Miss Hunter’s in danger even before the alarm attached to the earrings you gave her go off. You feel the dread in your heart, feel it fill your empty and lonely soul. The sheer volume of that feeling jolts you awake.

Sylus slumbers beside you. He insisted, worry lacing his voice and his hand gently brushing your cheek when he asked you to stay. The look in his eyes is what pushed you to do so. They were inquiring about your relationship, about where you stand after all that's happened.

You should’ve put your foot down. You should’ve kept your distance. Your mind told you so. Your heart didn’t listen, once again.

So you two share a bed again, entangled in each other’s embrace. Sylus’ fast heartbeat syncs to yours. His every breath is the most comforting soundtrack you’ve ever experienced.

Or, it used to be. Nothing could compare to the sound of your beloved being fast asleep until your heard that piece. That song of the stars, that hymn of the universe, is the best thing that’s ever had graced your ears. You hunger to hear it again.

And maybe that selfish wish is why you rush out of bed. You long to hear it again. Because that time, enveloped in that beat, is probably the only time in your life you’ve ever been at true peace. The only time you’ve ever truly belonged.

Miss Hunter is the key to that, and you haven’t seen her in some time, making room for her to bond with Sylus. You’ve pushed both of them into each other’s arms (ironic given that you still let yourself sleep in Sylus’).

That’s what you’ve assumed, anyway. Neither of them have told you anything of the sort. Sylus just spends more time in Linkon and Miss Hunter talks about him in a better light when you two text.

Feels like a husband trying to hide a mistress from his wife with the way they sneak around. And said mistress is her friend.

The mere thought makes you want to vomit. To expel that thought and all others that could follow from both your mind and stomach.

Stop it, you tell yourself as you unceremoniously wiggle your way out of a sleeping Sylus’ embrace. There’s nothing between you two, and everything is right between them.

Your rush, oddly enough, isn’t what wakes your boss. He eyes only shoot open the moment your warmth completely leaves his.

“Where…?” His voice cracks a bit, and he constantly blinks his eyes in the struggle to keep them open.

You wonder, in this moment, what you would do if two really were together. If he really was your husband like so many assume. If he really was yours and not someone else’s.

Would he coax you back into his arms, kissing the back of your neck and mumbling nonsense? Would you two play a game of back and forth, to see who will get up or who will go back to sleep? Or would he simply just wrap his arms around your waist like at the gala a few weeks ago, kissing you everywhere in order to wake himself?

Just the idea flusters you. So flustered that your first attempt on putting on a shirt is one that’s inside out and backwards. You quickly remedy this, glancing back at Sylus as you put the shirt back on right.

He doesn’t even flinch at the brief sight of your bare back. Understandable. You’ve seen him practically naked (except for a towel he haphazardly put on). He’s seen almost every inch of you, bandaging and stitching you back together in more ways than one.

What I wouldn’t give for him to take me apart in the best way possible?

Everything is so very, very hot again.

“Go back to sleep, Morana,” you whisper to him, not going back near the bed in fear you’d do something stupid like kiss him. “Something came up. I’ll handle it, and you call you after I do.”

“Alright,” he yawns. “Come back to me soon.”

You almost cry at his words.

“Be sure to tell the boys. You know how they worry about you.”

You nod, sending a quick text to your group chat with Luke and Kieran (the two menaces named it “When Mom Needs to Shit Talk Dad”) before you head out to your motorcycle.

You don’t check your phone for her location. Something tells you Skyhaven is the place. And another thing tells you that your world is about turn upside down.

As you drive, you soon don’t even need instinct for the former of your ideas. Because Miss Hunter’s thread appears, like the red guiding light in some video game. You know it’s hers because the stories it weaves are hers. The explosion. Her entry into the N109 zone. And some childhood memories she’s told you about.

But this isn’t Sylus’ connection to her that’s leading you. It’s someone else. A boy who’s been by her side for ages. A boy whose death drove her into your life and Sylus’.

You don’t quite see who this boy—man—is. Or maybe you and even Miss Hunter’s very soul are blocking him out. His blurry image conjures confusion, anxiety, betrayal, and layers upon layers pain.

You drive faster.

—

It’s surprisingly easy to find Miss Hunter. Pulling a few (sometimes literal) strings with members of The Fleet, a nice smile here, and a bit of manipulation there, and you find her. She appears to be in a nurse’s uniform, something that gives you pause. What makes you unpause is the aggressive man whose hands are on her.

His appearance flickers, much like Sylus’ did on that fateful day you first met him. Except his doesn’t bounce between dragon and human. No. For this man, you sometimes see a black bandage cover his eyes, and gold running down his body. Said body also becomes engulfed in black machine parts, and you hear them turn even when you’re some distance away.

He looks so much like Alex did that day years ago. Gold instead of silver runs across his metallic body and he lacks the powerful weapon they clutched in their hand. But the same emptiness is there. That same blank slate that hums with a power you want nothing to do with is there.

The difference between this man and Alex though is that he is still alone. He’s still someone’s pawn, and is willing to stay that way for the sake of the woman he loves.

Alex would never be in this position. Their family situation may be complicated, but Kai will never stand for it to escalate. She never allows her spouse’s family to have their way.

The man with cold violet eyes doesn’t have that. He stands a bastion between Miss Hunter and a horrific fate you don’t even want to think about. He stands between her and an evil that you can see in his thread.

Ever.

You hoped to never hear that name again. To never remember the scientists that poked and prodded at you when no sign of a soulmate came in at the expected age. You wonder if they told him about you. You wonder if you’re going to get dragged back into the strange rooms with the strange devices again.

You wonder if your rescue mission is about to become a failed one.

You call out Miss Hunter’s first name. She turns to you, and the military man finally acknowledges your presence. She runs to you, and you shuttle her behind you.

Calm yourself.

You take deep breaths, watching his thread like a hawk, dissecting each little notch and every little twist to find something to exploit. You don’t want to be near this man that represents everything that makes your skin crawl any longer than you have to.

“Apologizes, ummm?” You trail off, laughing at yourself. “I’m sorry, what’s your name? My friend here didn’t mention you in her report.”

“Report?” Is all that comes out of his mouth. His words are devoid of anything. No inflection. No feelings. Nothing.

Your blood runs cold. Miss Hunter hands begin to grip the back of your shirt. She trembles.

“Yes, yes. Her report. The Hunter Association did send her to investigate some things, correct?” The man makes a notion for you continue. “When she submitted it, it was decided by her boss that I’d come and pick her up.”

“The Fleet wasn’t informed about any such development.”

You figured as much.

“I didn’t think the retrieval of one hunter needed to be told to them. The Fleet is busy enough as it is. Adding more paper work and things to sign for us to get one of our own seems foolish, does it not?”

You hate staring at those dead eyes of his. But it’s the only way to get his attention. The only way for him to believe your words and let the two of you go.

But you can hardly focus on getting your words out. There’s something wrong with this man, something mechanical. Something that’s burrowed so deep within him that it messes with him on a fundamental level.

It’s not enough to change his soul, thankfully. You can still see his worry, even if it’s not on his face. You can still see his love for Miss Hunter, even if he doesn’t show it.

So you keep your eyes on his, and hope to the universe that your abilities and your voice are enough to get away.

“Than may I ask why the Association needs her, given the state she’s in and the fact that you didn’t inform us she was to be sent back to Linkon so early?”

“I’m afraid a stranger isn’t privy to such information.”

“Colonel Caleb Xia,” he sticks his hand out for you to shake it.

You take it, and give him your name.

“Now that we’re not strangers, answer my question.”

His attitude is grinding your gears. His attitude, the fear he's giving Miss Hunter, and just the wrongness about him makes you snap inside.

“Well, Colonel,” you’re more harsh with your tone now. “I don’t see why I should. You did not inform the Association of her injuries. You did not inform us that she would be taken on a private airship, forced against her will for treatment, and then hunted down like an animal when she made the reasonable assumption you wouldn’t let her leave and try to escape. I don’t owe a brute like you jack-shit, let alone answers.”

You stick out an arm to further shield Miss Hunter. This seems to rattle the Colonel a bit. So you push further.

“The way you speak to me gives me the impression that you’re suspicious of me. Which is ironic coming from a man that’s meant to be dead.”

Miss Hunter flinches at your words. You use your other hand to soothe her, and even your powers brush against her very soul to calm her. You hate to shake her so much. But using these words, using his own guilt against him, is probably the best chance you have of leaving here.

“Some things came up. Things that you don’t need to know.”

He steps closer to you.

“Ah. So we both have our secrets, don’t we?” You get in his face. “Only mine doesn’t cause my friends great distress.”

His emotionless mask finally cracks a little. Just a smidge. But his thread tells you of mountains and mountains of guilt. Of how it hurts to see the woman he loves so scared of him.

You don’t give a shit. Sure, you almost pity him a bit. But Miss Hunter’s shaky hands on your back, and the reminder of the love you know she deserves from Sylus kills that pity in seconds.

If anything, his cruelty is just another reason you’ll make sure he never has her. It’s just another reason for you to drive her into Sylus’ arms and break your heart again.

“It’s just a misunderstanding.”

The cliche words make you want to strangle him.

“I’d hate to know what kind of misunderstandings you’ve had in the past, Colonel, to think that any of what you’ve done is acceptable.”

“And what exactly is it that you think I’ve done? You just got here, Miss,” the way he says your name makes you all the angrier.

“I have eyes, Colonel. I know a terrified woman trying to escape from a domineering man when I see one.”

You hope flat-out calling him an abuser will get Caleb to back down. Because you know he’s doing all this with good intentions. He doesn’t want to hurt Miss Hunter. He doesn’t want to scare her.

Too bad the pathway to hell is paved with good intentions. Too bad he’s one of those people who refuse to see and acknowledge when they’re wrong.

“How did you find us?” He ignores your comments altogether.

Fine. I’ll play your game.

“By asking around. People are surprisingly agreeable to what you want when you’re not demanding or controlling. Right, Colonel?”

His face scrunches at your implications.

“I wouldn’t know. My job is to command or listen to orders. I do not ask for permission.”

“You know, every word out of your mouth makes me wish you stayed dead.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips. You don’t really mean them. Not truly. Any family or goodness for Miss Hunter is something you’ll celebrate.

Even if Caleb is something that somehow falls into those categories. Even if the man you'll never allow her to truly be with is one of those people.

He’s caused so much pain. So much anguish in her threads and turmoil in her mind. The normally confident and headstrong hunter is silent behind you. Her soul begs for her to run.

You want to turn around and hug her. Give her a shoulder to cry on. To ease her mind while you plot with Sylus how to fuck up the lives of anyone who’s ever hurt her. You want to save her, protect her.

And the more these emotions boil, the more you wonder. Is this the influence of that song? Or is this just what it means to be so beloved by the universe? That even someone like you is drawn into her orbit, ready to give up the man you love for her in a heartbeat?

Once again, your selfish heart wonders if she and all the love the world wants to give her, is the reason you have no love at all.

“Harsh words from someone who just met me,” the Colonel’s quip drags you out from the depths of your self-hatred.

“You’ve just made that bad of a first impression on me.”

“What did I do to do that?”

“You do not want me to answer that.”

The Colonel and you say nothing to each for some time, just staring the other down.

“We really must get going. We have things to attend to, as I’m sure you do as well.”

You turn to try and leave, guiding Miss Hunter to walk in front of you, but Caleb grabs your wrist.

“Unhand me this second, or so help me, Colonel I will make you wish you stayed dead and buried.”

He lets go. You and Miss Hunter return to your old stance of her behind you while you face her childhood friend.

“She’s injured.”

“I’m aware.”

“She can’t work like this.”

“I’m also aware of that. I’ll treat her once we’re back in Linkon and she’s in a comfortable space.”

“She needs rest.”

“And she’ll get it. Away from you. Believe or not, there are others that care for her as well and can do so without violating her autonomy.”

“Why do you need her specifically?”

His change of topic doesn't go unnoticed by any of you. Once again, you play along.

“As I said before, it’s none of your business, so I won’t go into the details. All I will tell you is that her resonance Evol is needed for some investigative work.”

You pause, staring deeper into those cold eyes and his frantic thread.

“And, she has a capable partner that will look after her during this process. She won’t even have to lift a finger.”

“You?”

You almost snort. While you may have cynically thought of joining the Hunter's Association out of spite, you'd never truly consider it. Too... perfect for someone as broken as you. Too bright, too kind, too messy, too secretive, too—

It's just too much. Too much for you and your bloodstained hands and soon-to-be broken heart.

“Oh heavens, no. Not me. I’m not the fighting type,” you can hear Sylus and the twins cackle in your mind as you say this.

You may not like fighting, but everyone in Onychinus knows you can be deadly in one if need be. And some of your opposition actually fears you more than Sylus because of that. Because Sylus’ power is tangible, you can see his energy Evol as it snuffs a life out.

But no one can see it when you pull a thread out of someone’s heart. Or twist their very soul into oblivion. Or choke the life out of them with their own connection to their soulmate.

Your mystery is your greatest weapon. And it’s another reason you tell yourself not to divulge your secret ever again.

“Than how can I trust this mysterious partner if they don’t have the decency to show up themselves?”

Shit.

You gather yourself quickly. You need to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Your trust in my words are irrelevant. I don’t need your permission to take her anywhere, I’m just giving her childhood friend who’s worried about her well-being the curtesy of being told such information. I’m not leaving you in the dark.”

Caleb’s mask once again wavers, so you push more.

“I’m not leaving you frightened of the unknown and nor am I strong-arming you into doing what I want with my authority. I’m having a conversation with you in hopes you’ll see things from my point of view. And I’m not ignoring your clear discomfort nor your fears.”

“And what is it you think I’m afraid of?”

“That you’ll lose her again. Or they’ll get their hands on her.”

You know that’s the right thing to say when the Colonel’s hand begins to hover over his waist, where you assume his gun is. His eyes go dead again. Cold. Bottomless. All consuming.

Just where you want him.

“You think you two are the only ones they’re hunting? You think she’s the only one they’ve ever obsessed over?”

You hate yourself for this. For putting this information into his hands, their hands, again. Because you became a ghost once you entered the N109 zone. You disappeared from their grasp because the old man in charge of the Zion Hunt knows better than to blab about you.

It was your wish from him when you won his little competetion during your first year with Sylus. It was the wish and deal you made with him, his very soul the price should he ever break it. Whether it was you or Sylus that would come to collect, you hope to never know.

Because you were dead to Ever. And it was supposed to stay that way. But for her, and for Sylus, you’ll come back. You’ll put yourself back under their radar in hopes they’ll chase you and not her.

And while you’re at it, maybe you can save the Colonel as well. You may hate who he is right now, but you're curious about the boy he used to be. The boy Miss Hunter loves like family. The boy he was before Ever broke him like they broke you.

“You aren’t,” you continue. “In fact, I think the Professor loved me most of all before I left him.”

“Why?”

He’s still tense. Still ready to end your life and forcibly take Miss Hunter away. But you know where to strike. You know because his thread tells you he’s heard about you. About the strange little girl with no soulmate but with the power to see others, to touch others, to manipulate others.

Seems the Professor still remembers me.

You still remember him. You still remember how him and Josaphine and all the others treated you. You still remember the many tests, the files you read, and all the injections they gave you before your family sent you off to school that same day like nothing happened.

You still remember the adrenaline and joy that coursed through your veins the day you finally ran from it all. That same adrenaline pumps now at the thought of going back.

But you’d do it for her. For them. And hopefully, they’ll all forgive you for it.

“Because I turn everything we’ve ever known about humanity and love upside down.”

Bullseye.

Caleb lowers his hand to his side, no longer ready to shoot you. Because now he realizes you’re just like him, just like Miss Hunter. Another one of the Professor’s runaway “children”. Another one of his pawns that never wants to see him again.

“And do you know what my parents told me each time they took me to him?”

“What?” He asks the question breathily, shaken to his core despite how the chip in his head tries to stop him from feeling.

You pull at his literal heartstrings, at his soul, to bypass the machine. The power of universe itself is far more potent and compelling than some man-made computer.

“That it was for my own good,” that hits Caleb harder than any of your other words, and you scoff when you say it. “Selfish words by selfish people who refuse to admit when they’re wrong. When they refuse to see how they hurt the people they claim to love.”

Miss Hunter burrows deeper into your back. You twine your power into her threads to soothe her, since you can’t physically do it right now.

Her friend Caleb, on the other hand, seems to have been shattered. As if the weight of his actions has hit him. He doesn’t show it on his face or in his eyes, but in his thread. In the thread tied to the very woman who he scared so much.

“You love her, don’t you?”

No response.

“So why continue to hurt her as you do? Why continue to be like my parents and do something that she clearly doesn’t want and is only causing harm?”

“Because it’s a misunderstanding.”

“We already went over this, Colonel,” you’re gentle with your tone now, empathy bleeding into every fiber of your being.

I’ll get you out next, you tell yourself. I’ll get you and all the rest away from that man I should’ve killed years ago.

“But how about I put it another way? How do you expect me to believe you, who disappeared from her life once already and is now back and causing her pain, to be a better place for recovery than a place where everyone loves her and respects her ability to take care of herself?”

Once again, the Colonel doesn’t show how much of a gut punch your words are. You are a stranger, after all. And he’s been literally programmed to suppress how he feels.

So you tug at the string only you can. You tug on the connection on you can feel and twist and exploit. And he starts to feel it all. His guilt. His piles and piles of insecurity. And how maybe, just maybe, all you’ve been saying is right.

It’s a bit gross to you, to do this to a man who’s already been through so much. But he isn’t your priority. She is. The young woman who cowers behind you. The young woman who put her faith in you.

The young woman that will make the man you love feel whole again. She’s who you came for. She’s who you’ll help. Caleb will have to wait his turn.

“Think about what you’re asking me to do, Colonel, from my perspective. My friend, who I’ve seen be consumed by grief, finally has gets the green light to work again after losing the only parental figure she remembers and the only family she had as well as her home.”

You pause to look his in the eyes and play with his thread more before continuing.

“She goes on said mission, gets heavily injured, and I come to pick her up only to find her on the run from said family member who’s supposed to be dead, and she’s disguised as a nurse as she tries to free herself from him. Would you trust you in my shoes?”

He has no response again, so you deliver what you hope to be the killing blow, “She’s been through so much. Do you really want to make matters worse?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, Colonel,” you don’t know what compels you to do so, but you lay a hand on his mechanical arm; it takes him by surprise, but since he doesn’t immediately retreat from your touch (and instead leans into it) you count that as a win. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I thought you were here to pick her up for a mission. How does my presence impact that?”

Got you.

While your words may sound like a slip up, you meant it. You meant for him to catch the underlying meanings of your words and press. You meant to reveal this “truth”.

“Alright, you caught me. There’s no mission. She called me directly because she was scared.”

You can feel the panic from Miss Hunter. You squeeze her hand, both to reassure her and as a promise to tell her everything later. Poor girl’s been lied to her entire life. And you understand that confusion and pain from being deceived by so many better than anyone.

The last thing you want is to become another person in that long list for her.

You take a deep, dramatic, breath. “You see, you never quite know how safe you are in this job. Whether it be Wanderers or rival organizations, danger’s around the corner for us Hunters. The explosion at your house made that all the more obvious.”

You pause, squeezing Miss Hunter’s hand again, making sure Caleb saw the turmoil and pain in your eyes. “So I came up with this system for me and her. A way to call each other discreetly and to be sure we’ll get back up from a trusted friend. Regardless of where we were of whether we had our Hunter’s watches. A way for us to protect one another while still respecting each other’s space.”

You don’t quite know what it is this time that gets Caleb to see the light. But something flashes across his eyes, and he finally backs down. You almost let out a sigh of relief. But your professionalism makes you choke it back down.

Don’t waver. You’re not in the clear yet. Not until she’s home and safe.

“I see…” his voice carries the most emotion you’ve heard from him.

You sneakily curl a finger around his thread, tapping into that heart of his that you know still sleeps in his chest. No machine, no stupid little chip, will keep you from reaching it.

So you rub the thread between your fingers. You rub it and make him see the pain he’s causing, the suffering on the woman he loves’ face. You force him to see that feeling and come face to face with the realization that he caused it.

Something shifts in the Colonel. You words coupled with you literally touching his soul get to him in ways he didn’t think possible.

“I see…” he says again, this time, with pain in it.

You finally relax.

“I’ll escort you out.”

Your stomach drops at the mere idea. “No need. I happen to have quite the memory, and can get us out safely on my own.”

“I insist.”

Please don’t.

“Haven’t you done enough damage with your “insisting” already?”

A low blow. But nothing is too low for you to get him to back off. To get away from this man that makes your friend tremble and you uncomfortable.

You don’t know if it’s the machine in his head, the emotionless landscape of his past life, or the way that history of his reminds you of your missing friend Alex. Any one of those could be what ultimately makes you not want to be in his presence.

The Colonel opens his mouth, probably to push his point again, but another voice interrupts him before he can.

“Colonel Xia. What the fuck are you doing?”

The voice comes from behind you and Miss Hunter. It’s female, and a bit scratchy. From disuse or just a natural undertone to it, you don’t know. But something about it compels you to keep your gaze forward. For whatever reason, you can’t bring yourself to turn around.

Miss Hunter can’t either, judging by how she buries her face into your back.

The steps of your savior are anything but comforting. A pit forms in your stomach. A pit that’s familiar.

Death approaches.

Every part of you wants to fight. To fight against what your lizard brain sees as a foe but what your logical one sees as an ally. It’s a confusing storm of emotions. One that gets worse once you see the woman.

She flickers. Just like Alex and Caleb. Just like Kai. Exactly like Sylus, given how her changes are that of horns and a tail.

She’s a fiend.

It’s the first time you’ve seen similar past lives. You’ve seen Lemurians. You’ve seen cyborgs. You’ve seen beings made of flowers and sand. But never two of the same.

Another fiend isn’t something you thought you’d ever see. Another fiend shouldn’t be possible, given that you know Sylus was the only of his kind (a dragon that's too human, and a human that's too much of a monster). Another fiend like him shakes everything you thought you knew.

Who is she?

Caleb, as if hearing your thoughts, answers for you, “Undertaker Rafia. What are you doing here, ma’am?”

The amount of respect he gives this woman shocks you somewhat. The same man who tried to force his own soulmate into compliance, who frightens even you, is on edge by the appearance of one woman.

A woman of tall stature. A bulky, muscular woman. A woman with pitch black hair and the palest skin you’ve ever seen. A woman who was once a fiend.

That same woman stands between you and Caleb, her back still turned to you.

“Why I’m here is irrelevant. You have a ceremony to get to, and if you don’t get your ass in gear, it’ll be your funeral I’m planning next.”

“Ma’am, I—“

“Get to it, Caleb. Before you piss me off more.”

Caleb seems to weigh his options for a second. Before he salutes her and walks off. The tension in your body finally releases. You can breathe now. You can exist now without the weight of the Colonel’s eyes and voice on your shoulder.

“I’ll escort the two of you out. You shouldn’t have any more problems.”

Despite the primal fear her appearance first gave you, you’re grateful. She turns to you, and you open your mouth to tell her thank you, but something makes all words catch in your throat. And you stare.

You stare at Undertaker Rafia, even as Miss Hunter’s hold on you becomes a death grip on you. Not because you’re grateful. Not because you’re in shock.

No. You stare for a reason you never thought possible. You stare because the sight before you shouldn’t be real.

She has no soulmate.

Undertaker Rafia has no soulmate thread. Just. Like. You.

—

You’re 7 and in love with your best friend, the son of mother’s own best friend.

You sit on the couch in the game room of his house, picking at the fraying knitted blanket. Your crush sits next to you, eyes more focused on the pause screen of his video game than you. You don’t mind though. His dedication to his games is one of the reasons you like him.

He’s so excited about them, rambling to you about them with wild gestures while you just sit and listen. He could fill up an entire conversation for you two. You don’t need to say a word. You don’t need to force yourself into the awkwardness of trying to find the right words.

You could just be there with him.

”Sam says you like me.”

You nod.

”So… you do?”

You nod again, still unable to utter a word. Maybe because speaking will make this all too real? Maybe because speaking will make him laugh at you?

You chase that stupid thought away. He’d never laugh at you. He’s always kind with you, offering you his blanket when he’s clearly cold, opening doors for you, listening to your opinions on the rare occasion you can your mouth to form actual sentences.

Your friend treats you so preciously. And it makes you hope and pray you’ll be lucky enough to discover that he’s your soulmate.

”But I’m not your soulmate.”

Your friend tilts his head at you. Your heart falls with the motion. And you force your mouth to move and for words to come out.

You can’t lose him.

”You don’t know that,” you barely manage to mumble.

He takes your hand, toothy grin on his face. A grin that you love and makes you flush and makes you smile the biggest smile in your little life.

”I guess we’ll find out.”

You could cheer.

That all goes away in a few days. Your love? Tossed aside. Your happiness? Dashed. The friendship and the new relationship with a boy you thought like-liked you? Gone.

One day, you’re happy and the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. The next, he’s dumping you.

”I like someone else now,” he says kindly, as if that’ll make the blow hurt any less.

Your mind races. What did you do wrong? What have you done to make him like this, to make him no longer like-like you? Tears gather in your eyes as your chest aches.

You clutch at it. The pain is unbearable. You think your heart is literally breaking, shattering. Thump, thump, thump, it goes steadily. But, the pain, oh the pain, makes you believe otherwise. How else could you explain the piercing stabs in your chest?

You can’t look at your friend. Can’t look at him with his apologetic eyes and sweet voice that tries to calm you down. Can’t look at him with his soft hands that rub your back and familiar clothes that you think look cute on him.

All there is for you is pain. Pain in your chest as you sob and sob and sob. The one person, your person, is leaving you. Abandoning you. When you thought he’d be the only person to ever stay with you.

He’s the only one who sees you in your silence. Where your family teases you and tells you to take a joke, he gives you comforting reassurance of your feelings. Where others tell you to speak up, he gives you space to find your voice. Where the world tell you your heart is too tender and too soft, he tells you it’s a gift to care so much.

He is your rock in the storm. Your everything. The one pillar in your life that makes the house of you stand strong. And now, he’s knocking it down without a care.

And with that, your sorrow turns to rage. At his betrayal. At his abandonment. At anything and everything about him and the embarrassment he’s causing you on this stupid couch you confessed on.

When you look at him, at his chest he’s trying to suffocate you in because the stupid boy thinks that’ll comfort you and mend your heart, you see it. You see this odd red string that shimmers. You push him away. You blink. All sounds are quiet.

The string is still there. Still shimmering, still floating, still making waves from his heart. You're as enchanted by it as you are lost by it. Why is it here? How is it here? What is it?

You just stare. Your friend’s hands still rub your back in vain. Your chest is still on fire. Your eyes still produce tears despite how much it hurts to, despite how much they make you choke and spit and cough.

You cling to the string instead of him. You cling to this mystery. Because every mystery has a solution according to your teachers. Every puzzle has an answer, one that makes sense.

What sense is there to be found in your friend? What sense is there to be found in your own heart?

As if knowing what’s going through your mind, the string calls out to you louder. It compels you stronger. To listen. To touch it. To experience it. So, in your confused and broken heart, you do.

And you see her. An unassuming girl. A girl who didn’t know your friend like you did. A girl who would never give a nerd like him the time of day because all that matters is popularity and talking and peopling and all these other things that just isn’t your friend.

”Is it her? Is she your soulmate?”

The other question slips out before you can stop it. Her name follows shortly after. 

You don’t even need to look at your friend to know the answer. The string tells you. It’s taken his place as your place of comfort. You grasp it in your hands.

Will this leave me too? you wonder.

”What are you doing?” Your friend asks; you barely hear him because no words out of his mouth matter more than this moment.

But his stupid words do tell you something. They tell you he can’t see them.

Am I the only one who can?

Maybe the string is secret you’ve been entrusted with? Maybe it’s your apology from the universe for your broken heart? Maybe it can be your new friend?

Excitement and glee unlike any you've ever felt flood your chest. The strings are yours. They're something no joke, no call to speak up, and no adult can take from you.

It doesn’t vanish when you touch it. It doesn’t leave once you have it in your grasp like your friend is doing now. It sits with you. It speaks with you. And you speak what it tells you.

”You two share dreams, right?” You don’t give your friend time to answer. “Started yesterday, you fell asleep beneath our special tree. She wasn’t at school that day. Fever.”

Your friend has nothing to say, so you continue, “You should give her the blue Jolly Ranchers the next time you two share. She knows they’re your favorite, so she lies and says she doesn’t like them. She also hates the watermelon, you know. But your smile is worth choking them down.”

The more you learn, the more the tears fall from your eyes. Guilt begins to replace your hurt. Your chest still sings with a blaze you can’t put out.

”She actually loves chess and checkers. Guess you have someone new to play with.”

One sob you can’t hold back interrupts you. Image after image that illustrates how perfect she is for him and how perfect you aren't enter your mind. Each one stabs a new hole in your heart.

”She’s perfect for you. So, so perfect.”

You break. You scream. You throw pillows around and toss the blanket that the two of were sharing at a window.

”Why? Why, why, why, why, why?!”

Footsteps rush up the stairs. Their family dog is barking. Your throat hurts. Your voice is scratchy. When was the last time you raised it? Ever?

As your family comes to your side, asking what’s wrong, and your friend looks at you with horrified eyes, you finally whisper, “Why couldn’t it been me?”

The ride home is a blur. Your family’s attempts at comfort are a blur. Everything but your final words to your friend is a blur.

Why? Why couldn’t it been me?

That’s the only thought is your head until you finally fall asleep. As well as when you get to school and spot your friend and his soulmate feeding each other those stupid blue Jolly Ranchers to each other, laughing.

He doesn’t spare you glance. He doesn’t reach out. He doesn’t talk to you. And you, with your new friend in the strings, let him.

Your teacher, however, doesn’t. She pulls you aside after class.

”Did you and,” she says your friend’s name, “get into a fight?”

You nod your head, not looking her in the eyes. Eyes are scary to you. They should say too much according to the books you’ve read. But to you, they say too little.

Now, you have your strings. You have these things no one else can see, but everyone seems to possess. Even your teacher.

Worry makes waves in her sting. Worry and exhaustion. So you cut straight to the point, even as your body begs you to just shut down and wait it out like usual.

”Yes. He broke my heart because he found his soulmate.”

Surprise colors your teacher’s string. After all, you’re a quiet child. One who keeps her eyes glued to the floor and voice barely above a whisper. One who—in some case, quite literally—runs from conflict and the rest of the world.

You don't talk to adults. They never listen anyway, so you stopped a long time ago. So you understand why hearing your voice so clearly and so directly is strange to your teacher.

You await her response, hoping and praying for something good. While you may still hurt from your friend’s abandonment, you got the strings out of it. Maybe an adult will listen and help you for once because of them?

”Oh honey,” anticipation builds within you. “You should be happy for him! He found his one true love… you two were never going to last long anyways.”

The world collapses again. Tears build in your eyes again. But you don’t let yourself cry. You don’t let yourself beg or scream or wail because that didn’t help you the first time. Why would it be different now?

Why did I even hope?

So you turn to her string. You turn to her love because yours is so meaningless and empty and a waste and nothing—

”You get glimpses of your soulmate when you paint, right?”

You just start talking before you can think. Again.

”The color purple comes in pretty often. That, and dolphins. It’s because it’s Mrs. Smith, the math teacher. Did you know she does opera on the weekends because singing gives her glimpses of you?”

Your teacher’s jaw is on the ground. You shuffle away as she tries to recover from what you just said. You wait for your family to pick you up, more hopeless than ever.

The next day, news spreads that your teacher and Mrs. Smith are together. It gets around that a pair of soulmates found each other miraculously after years of unknowingly working together for years. Your teacher tells her, your, story. And the world finally begins to listen to you.

You begin to speak. With so many eyes turning to you, wondering about where you got your information, you tell. You tell them about the threads and what they whisper to you. What they say about others, about their soulmates, about their pasts, and about their loves.

One of your classmates gives you a look. A look you know all too well. A look that resonants in their own thread, which tells you they don’t believe you.

You aren’t even surprised anymore.

But another classmate approaches you after class. Asks about their thread and their other half. And you tell them. To go to a cafe with their parents on a specific day at a specific time. There, they will bump into their other half and be able to share their thoughts with them.

They do so. And another success falls into your lap.

After that, more and more people approach you. Some kids. Some adults. Some old people. Some from school. Some from apparently the other side of the world. All hearing stories and rumors from those you’ve helped.

You tell every time. Despite their clear caution. Despite the glances you now get in the hallway. Despite how the loneliness piles and piles on top of the grave of your old love.

But the final nail in your coffin comes from your friend again. Or rather, from his family. Yours and his are trying to make you two talk again. To make everyone friends again and “keep the peace” as the adults are saying.

You don’t budge. His useless apologies and meaningless sorries bounce right off your ears. Because all you can see is his thread and his memories with her. All you can see is your broken love and his blossoming new one.

So you turn to another thread. Not your family’s because you know them far too well. But his mother’s, the only one who seems to understand you. And you’re floored again.

”Your husband is not your soulmate.”

For the third time, your mind can’t stop your mouth.

”Your bonds are both similar, so you just assumed as much. When you sleep at night, you get your other half’s memories, right? Well, you each got the wrong sibling.”

Chaos ensues. You’re being screamed at by all: your friend, his family, your family, and even yourself. You just retreat into your mind, and into the threads. It’s the one place that can never hurt you.

You family doesn’t hear from your friend and his family for some time. Your own family has been distant from you. You no longer care. All you need are the threads. They’re the only truly loyal thing in your life.

When you do hear from your friend and his family again, you’re greeted by warmth. By joy. By tears of absolute happiness.

”Thank you,” they all say. “Thank you for making us all whole.”

You wonder why. According to everyone, you broke up a family. And according to what you know, that should be bad. So why are you being praised? Why are you being thanked?

Your friend begins to hang out with you again. He becomes your voice again. He gives you snacks and blankets and pillows again. He looks at you with happiness again.

Than it all falls into place when you see him with her. When you see your teachers together. When you see the two new couples that form your friend's family.

Who cares who or what a soulmate’s love hurts? Everything is nothing compared to it.

You think this as you watch your friend play video games with his other half, smiling while you watch with your own wavering grin, heart stitched together by your own resilience and refusal to hurt again.

Author's Note: Also, please go to the original blurb to ask to be added to the taglist (it's impossible for me to keep checking every part every time I update).

2nd Author's Note: This has honestly been the most emotional and personal Ikigai chapter for me to write, since I based part of Reader's past emotional trauma on my own (it's the easiest for me to write and works as therapy, so win-win). I mentioned early on there would be flashbacks, and I wanted to showcase some of her young life and where her mindset came from. I have one more planned—which is coming next chapter—but let me know if you'd like more!

3rd Author's Note: If I wrote and published an acutal novel, would anyone here read it? Because I had a fiction workshop class and I'm so invested with the story I cooked up there!

4th Author's Note: What's your ideal date? I need ideas for a future scene in this series, and would love some more input.

Taglist: @eolivy, @rafayelridesfisheatsfish, @animegamerfox, @jasperjokester, @schrodingerskimdokja, @just--crys, @snowdynasty, @shi-thats-kiera, @mansonofmadness, @dwuclvr, @ameilli, @katiedoesstuff101, @everythingistaken00, @napa-the-yappa, @hanaluxx, @lovesick-sylus, @tenaciouszombiewombat, @ladyparamount, @applepi405, @midnight-reverie, @69-gojos-wife-69, @bellagrayson-wayne, @phisen, @idkmanimjusthorny, @munchychuusy, @autumn2534, @poptrim, @sillyfreakfanparty, @zaynesfirefly, @flamedancer13, @thissmartdumbass, @mrsllawliet, @jeondyy, @ssetsuka, @dels-page, @that-lost-one, @johnnysactualgf, @mariquitas-en-verano, @toelady, @sinnamon-bunn, @yesbiaswrecked, @doggyteam2028, @little-rays-of-darkness, @albatrossblue, @vyntheria, @silverianni, @browneyedgirl22, @tiklestar, @beaconsxd, @pepperushia

[m4mmonthebest]

You're the right choice.

Read here:

Link

Or if not... here!

// Tw: Blood mention, Stabbing mention, Toxic Ex mention.

You left the Dateviators on top of Abel, right next to the door. It's unusual of you, but you take your phone with you just in case.

This is rewarded, when you come from your walk bloodied, applying pressure with your sweater on both the stab wounds given by your ex.

You had wasted no time and immediately called the police.

The door is open, you swear you didn't leave it like that but that's the least of your worries.

You quickly step in, a blood trail following you, and grab the dateviators.

You're surrounded by people, Betty runs towards you in a frenzy as Dorian quickly kneels besides you, applying pressure to the wound with the bloody sweater.

"Shit! I shouldn't have let you leave-"

"Farya! Come! We need help right now!"

Farya wastes no time, quickly and expertly determining the state of your injuries. She begins to bandage you, as a way to stop the bleeding from making you anemic.

"I'm saddened to say my help is limited. They seem to have a punctured lung."

It seems like saying that made the room temperature drop instantaneously. You begin to shiver, and Hector tries to control himself, making the room warmer.

"They'll get here in time."

Says Cam, trying to look unaffected and failing considering his legs are shaking.

Betty positions your head on her lap. She's incredibly soft, you think to yourself, as she softly caresses your face. Tyrell wipes the blood from your mouth, forcing a smile.

Eddie and Volt grab both each one of your hands. They try and soothe you out of the pain and tiredness.

"You're strong Livewire. Don't give up on us, o-okay?"

Fuck. Volt didn't mean for his voice to break. You look at him with a tired smile, as your eyes begin to close on their own.

"Hey! Livewire! Hey!"

Eddie begins to lose his nerve when you struggle to stay awake, to the point Volt has to step in to try and calm him down.

Cam, who didn't dare to get too close now kneels right next to you. He grabs your hand, rubbing your palm with his thumb. And with the kindest voice he has probably ever uttered in his life he mutters:

"It's okay. We are here. And we'll be here when you wake up too."

You close your eyes.

And you wake up in a hospital bed.

The interrogation from the police you wished you could've avoided. Your ex was quickly caught, they didn't try to hide themselves at all, which just makes you feel that they wanted to leave a mark on you you'll never forget and that's it.

You stayed a couple of days, surgery was needed, but you really wanted to rest at home.

When you got there it seemed like the house was cheering you on. You quickly put on the dateviators, which earns you the attention of everyone there. They all seem so happy to see you, despite your condition. Dorian grabs you and gently takes you to your room. Betty makes sure that the bed is as comfortable as it can be. Everyone in the house works hard to make you feel like you've been born again.

Despite that, you can feel the worried looks of some people around the house.

You're especially worried about Dorian.

It's clear that you're not gonna be able to talk to front door Dorian. It seems like he's on high alert, way more than he used to.

You decide to talk to your bedroom Dorian.

He closes his eyes when he sees you look at him. Which he slowly opens to reveal a very guilty look. Your hands make way to his face and when you try to kiss him he pulls away.

"No."

"...Why?"

"Don't deserve it."

You decide instead of a kiss maybe a hug will convey what you feel. That it wasn't his fault at all. That you're an adult who made a dumb decision that he had no real agency on.

The hug is mostly one sided, he doesn't dare grab you, even if that is what he wants the most. When you're asleep he can't help but to just look at you, and grimace when you move wrong and cause yourself pain.

It seems you make a small move that causes your wound to brush against him, making you hiss. He immediately grabs your shoulders, looking worried.

"You're alright?"

His voice drips with worry.

"Yes Dorian..."

He's tired.

"I asked you to let me go, you know...?"

"I shouldn't have let you."

"You had no way of knowing."

"I still have to be prepared for anything."

"You know that's impossible..."

He looks at you. His eyes, his beautiful eyes are filled with sorrow and with all the things that could've happened to you and he had no way to stop. Everytime he sees you not moving he thinks about how maybe everything is a dream. And maybe you are dead.

But then you wake up, and his heartbeat feels less painful.

You grab one of your hands and softly place it on your chest. He blushes slightly, and when he's about to take his hand off as if he had touched fire, he feels your heartbeat.

You rest your head on his chest. And he lets you stay like that. You close your eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hand, until you feel something dripping onto your head.

"Sorry."

It seems like that was completely unintentional from his part. Dorian didn't seem like the type to cry easily, but you could understand that everything that had happened these couple of weeks, the stress, feeling so guilty you can barely think...it got to him.

Your hand brushes his cheek, wiping his tears away and this time when you kiss him, he lets you. And then he reciprocates. More than a passionate kiss is an affectionate one. It tells you I'm sorry. It tells you it won't happen again. It tells you I'll never let it happen again. The kiss is a promise.

"Come to bed with me?"

He doesn't protest and does as he's told. You both quickly find yourself in a comfortable embrace. He rests his head right next to you. He breathes the aroma of your hair, he looks at the way your chest rises and falls, and once again, he puts his hand next to your heart.

Your heartbeat may be his favorite sound from now on.