#whose work is ''natural to humanity''

[agnesandhilda]

rip nanami kento you would've loved marx's theory of alienated labor

[suddencolds]

.~

[in-tua-deep]

Drew representations of the three unchained sun gods from my dream about the golden peacock trickster! Erythristic animals are so excellent

It was nice to draw again after such a long break ♥️

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

It continues to trip me up how much human brains are just weird organic computers

[eddiesxangel]

Amorem | E.M

Cw: you’re tired of being alone, so you cast a spell to find love. 7.3k words, witch!f!reader x Eddie, magic, fluff, mild angst, smut, unprotected sex, creampie.

“I just feel so lonely.” You sigh.

Robin, Nancy, Max, and Joyce, all collectively nod their heads as you’re all gathered at the Coven house. They can’t help but feel a small amount of pity, they have all found their partners. You’re the last witch standing.

“What about the amorem enchantment?” Joyce, the coven mother suggested. 

She is a wise witch, the townspeople call her eccentric, however she is very knowledgeable when it comes to the craft. 

“That seemed a bit desperate” you sigh. 

“You’re a beautiful witch in your prime, it is time to find your match before it is too late.” Joyce points out.

It is very unfortunate when a witch loses their match due to natural selection because there is a very small window to do something about it. 

The supernatural forces are lenient to keep your human longer than their body allows if you claim them in time. It only works if the match is in their mid-twenties. No one knows why, but it is when you need to act. You’re already in your twenty-fifth year, you can’t push it any longer.

With a sigh of defeat you begrudgingly agree that it was what has to be done.

“Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem” your chant starts softly. Alone at your altar, deep in the meadow with the wildflowers and dew. Your altar is set up against a weeping willow with all you have gathered for your enchantment. 

Amorem enchantments, or love enchantments, are a powerful thing. The magic cannot make someone fall in love with you; that’s not how it works. The magic is to draw the source of love towards you, to help guide the individuals together.

You think of your ideal partner- charismatic, funny, loyal, trustworthy, doting, physical, handsome, artistically inclined, and imaginative. All of those things race on your mind as you chant.

You can feel your magic building. The warmth builds in the depth of your chest and spreads through your arms to your fingertips as you continue the chant. 

“Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem. Dea amoris, adiuva me invenire unum, dea amoris, invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem. Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem” 

The moon is at its highest, the wind is whistling. “Ego invocabo Freyja ad auxilium me invenire amorem. Adiuva me invenire unum, dea amoris, adiuva me invenire unum dea amoris, adiuva me invenire unum ego. One last final chant and it was complete.

You feel a soft brush against your hand. Looking down, you smile at the little ball of fluff—Clover, your familiar. She is a calico rabbit you’ve had since your magic presented itself at eight years of age. 

You glamour your altar so no one would disrupt it- not that anyone comes out here, but you can never be too careful keeping the witches' secret….

A few miles away, tucked up in bed was a man, unbeknownst to him, whose life was about to change.  

Eddie isn’t too sure why he is here. He was in his apartment strumming, trying to find the right chords, when he had a sudden urge to go out. Where? He didn’t know, but if he didn’t, his gut told him he would miss out on something… something big.

Now he’s found himself in this kitschy store next to Melvald’s. He’s never noticed or paid much attention to it, but he found himself pulled up in front of it and being drawn in. 

The wind chimes let you know that a potential customer has entered your little shop whilst you are in the back sorting stock, so you poke your head out to see who’s arrived 

“Let me know if you need anything” you politely say before seeing who was there. 

“Uh… thanks” You see the man scratch his head looking clueless until his eyes meet yours. 

“Oh. Hi,” you step out when you realize who is in your presence.

Eddie Munson, of all people. 

“Hey,” he awkwardly waves. 

You haven’t seen him since you graduated high school, nearly seven years ago. You had heard he was held back a few times, but you hadn’t given him a second thought. 

“Let me know if you’re looking for something specific, I can help you out,” you smile and try and act busy. 

When he turns his back you can’t help but observe him as he searches the shelves. 

“What kind of place is this?” He looks over his shoulder.

“Well we are called Mystic Apothecary, what do you think?” You raise a brow biting back a snarky giggle, the touches of sarcasm rolling off your tongue. 

“Ah,” he nods and continues browsing. 

You curse yourself for being snarky. This is a potential customer, you need to be more approachable.

“So that makes you? What? A Sorceress?” He smirks and you can’t help but blush. 

“You could say that.” 

Eddie spends about ten minutes browsing and picking up little trinkets and other items before bringing them to your counter. 

“Looks like someone wants to get into spell work,” you smile. He has a pentagram pendant, a tapestry, some empty spell jars, so pre filled spell jars, a black obsidian tower, and a cauldron.

“Uh-I needed some props” 

“Props, huh?” Your pointed aubergine nails clack on the register keys to input the prices. 

“I play this game, it’s silly.” He shrugs. 

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was being so bashful. He’s always been so proud to be himself, so why is he nervous in front of you? 

He semi-remembers you from school. You were more subdued and kept to yourself or your girl group. Everyone called you guys the Hawkins Coven, not that you were actually witches, but now he is rethinking that…

It also doesn’t escape him that you’re really pretty—like otherworldly pretty. He was really digging your style. Your peasant skirt and half corset are really doing it for him; very ren fair of you. 

“So, is this like your uniform, or do you always dress like this?”  Where did that come from? Eddie curses himself, but you just giggle.

“Why? You want one for yourself?” You smirk. 

“What? You don’t think I could pull it off?” 

“You would look lovely” 

“Thank you, my lady” he curtseyed. 

This made you giggle some more. This interaction was cute flirty and fun. You have never spoken to him this much, who knew he was so charming? 

“Thanks for shopping.” You pass him his goodies in a paper bag. 

“I guess I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah,” you smile. 

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding once the chimes for the door let you know Eddie was out of the store. 

What the Hecate was that?

Clover hops over onto the counter giving you a knowing look. 

“No… you don’t think?” 

She twitches her nose. 

“You’re crazy”  

She stomps her little back foot and you roll your eyes. 

“Let’s see.”

Days passed without any interaction with Eddie, until today. While at the food court with the coven, Max caught sight of Lucas, her boyfriend, sitting with his friends. As you approached their table, you unfortunately stumbled after stepping on your bootlace. With a small squeal, you found yourself tripping and falling onto someone's lap. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed.

Looking up, you noticed a smirk on his face as he replied,

"Not every day I have a pretty girl falling into my lap." Your cheeks flushed with heat as you realized it was Eddie Munson.

Quickly regaining your composure, you got up, apologized once more, and walked away.

“Pretty, huh? Anything come of the Amorem Enchantment?” Max asks as the group of you walk away. 

“I’m, not sure. Clover thinks she has it all figured out on who it is but I’m skeptical”  

“Okay” you see Max give the others a knowing look but you bite your tongue. You don’t want to jump to conclusions.

The next day, you and Robin are out running errands, preparing for the upcoming full moon in a few days. Your coven always gathers during the highest point of the moon to draw magic from the earth, strengthening your bond and powers. It's like recharging a battery; it's not necessary, as magic never fades, but it can lie dormant if not utilized correctly.

"Hey, isn't that Munson?" Robin acknowledges, catching your attention. Surprised to see him again so soon, after seven years of not crossing paths, now encountering him for the third time in 2 weeks. "I suppose it is," you respond.

"I hardly see him," Robin remarks, her tone implying something you don't appreciate. 

"And?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

"And nothing," she replies in a defensive tone. 

"Has Brutus been talking to Clover?" you ask, disliking the familiars' gossiping habits.

"I'm not a snitch," Robin retorts, prompting you to roll your eyes. 

Her owl never seems to know when to stay quiet.

"Are you stalking me, Sorceress?" Eddie startles you as he approaches from behind. "Going to fall for me again?" he teases, making you clear your throat. 

Eddie seems unsure why he left the shop. That feeling of being drawn to a particular place during his lunch break, was gnawing that the back of his head, which led him straight to you.

"Damn, Munson, creeping up on all the ladies?" Robin scolds, to which Eddie replies, 

"Nah, just Sorceress here," tilting his head as you feel a blush rising on your cheeks.

“Sorceress, huh?” Robin raises her brows at you. 

“He came to the Apothecary.” You defend. 

“Uh-huh,” she nods and smiles. Only confirming Clover and Brutus’ accusations. 

“Yep, well we better get going. Joyce is waiting. Good to see you.” You grab Robin and take off before Eddie can ask you what he’s been wanting to do since yesterday.

The Halloween Fall festival is usually your favourite event of the year. However this year you’ve been working more than enjoying the festivities. You’ve been in the tent most of the day, doing tarot readings and “fortune telling.” You’re exhausted and about to close up when a deep voice catches your attention.

“Guys I’m not doing it, it’s dumb.” 

“Too bad you lost the bet now go in there!” A younger-sounding guy demands. 

“It’s all hocus poc- woah” The man is pushed into view and you can’t believe your luck when it’s Eddie.

“All a bunch of Hocus Pocus, huh?”

Of course, he would be a non-believer. 

“Flip that sign to say Closed for me would ya?” You ask whilst shuffling the deck for hopefully the last time today.

“You trying to get me alone or something,” Eddie suggests but you ignore it. 

“Sit.” 

“Yes ma’am” Eddie smirks, pulling out the chair. 

With a big sigh, you shuffle the deck with your eyes closed. 

“What is it you want to know?” 

“Uh…” 

“A general reading it is. Fifteen dollars.” You motion to the glass jar and he scrambles to put the cash in. 

You feel that the cards are aligned so you go ahead a pull. The six cards are placed face down between you and Eddie. 

“Ready?” You smirk. 

“I guess.” He shrugs.

You flip the first card. 

“Chariot in Reverse. You feel like there is a lack of direction in your life. Like you’re on the right path but maybe a little lost. Like you took the wrong turn down the road.”

You flip the second card.

“Death.”

Eddie looks up at you. He looks scared, but you giggle.

“It’s not literal, it means new beginnings, change, metamorphosis. Like you’re finally finding your path.” You look up at him through your lashes and he lets out the breath he was holding in. 

“The lovers” you continue with a gulp and flip the next card, The Eight of Stars.

“There is hope for a new relationship forming.” You continue to flip the fifth card and of course, it’s The Empress.

“More growth and beauty to enter into this new relationship. “

“How do you know it’s new?” Eddie interrupts. 

This catches you off guard. It’s not like you can come out a say ‘I cast a love enchantment and you’re the only one who is consistently popping up in my life.’

“I’m a fortune teller. Duh” 

This makes Eddie giggle and relax a bit more, so you continue to the final card. 

“The Devil.” You sigh, and Eddie’s eyes blow wide again with wonder.

“It’s because I’m the town Satanist, isn’t it?” He accuses.

Once again you ignore him and continue.

“This relationship will be addictive, lustrous, seductive. You won’t be able to keep your hands off one another. You’re both going to fall and fall hard” Your eyes are locked in on one another. You want to look away but you can’t, you think he feels it too, the pull… 

When did you start leaning into one another? Your faces are so close, just a centimetre more and- you pull back immediately as the sound of the timer makes you both jump. 

“Well, times up thanks for coming” You stand and rush him out. 

“What? That’s it?” 

“Yep. Have fun at the festival!” You close the curtain in front of him before he can say another word. 

Eddie can’t believe what has just happened. He stood there awestruck but also very confused. 

“Dude, what happened?” Eddie’s friend Jeff shakes him. 

“Uh,” he scratches the back of his head “I have no fucking idea.” Eddie looked back over his shoulder at the tent but there was no movement at all. 

The situation with Eddie was consuming your day-to-day. Weeks have passed since the festival, and all you thought about was him. You finally are coming to terms that the enchantment is what is leading the two of you together, why deny it?

Eddie and you haven’t bumped into one another since the Halloween Festival and it’s been eating at you. After the tarot reading you realized you shouldn’t have pushed him away like that. What if you had scared him off? The magic can only do so much. 

Instead of moping around your house after work, hoping you bump into him. You decided to go to the grocery store strolling for some spices, your arsenal had been dwindling. 

Drifting off in your own little world, you hum with your headphones on as you try and reach for the cinnamon, of course, at the very back on the top shelf, you try and get it. You reach and reach on your highest tip toes looking like a fool, unable to use a summoning spell in public you curse whoever built these deep shelves. Just as you were about to look around to see if the coast was clear enough to use a little unharmful magic, you see a bare arm decorated with bats come from behind you grabbing the cinnamon sticks. 

“Hey do you mind-“ but you stop mid-sentence when they drop their hand down signalling for you to take it. 

“Thanks” You turn to see your knight in shining armour. Eddie.

“No big deal” he smiles. It’s a good smile. You observe him, losing focus you let down your guard. 

Eddie’s eyes widen with shock and you instantly put your guard back up. Your eyes must have given it away…

“You okay?” He asks placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you laugh it off, “why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Your eyes… they uh… they looked pink”

Pink?! Pink of all things! You mentally scold yourself.

“Oh uh. My contacts make your eyes irritated sometimes.” You play it cool… but Eddie and you both knew your irises were what changed colour, not the whites. 

“Uh-Hu” he nods, totally trying to not be freaked out, but also a little turned on? 

“Um,” you stand in awkward silence for half a minute. “Thank you for the help” You motion to the cinnamon and turn on your heel. 

“Wait!” He grazes your elbow now holding on too tight. 

“Can we, uh- I um.” He curses under his breath, “Would you like to go out with me?” He almost shouts and you. “Sorry. That was. You don’t have to…I just thought-“ 

“Eddie!” you cut him off.

He pauses realizing he never gave you a second to answer.

“I would love to.” You smile. Trying extra hard to stay focused because you know your eyes are a deep magenta under the glamour you hold. 

“Great! Okay,” he claps his hands together. “I‘ll call you!” He gestures his hand to make a phone by his ear and starts to walk away. 

“Wait! You don’t have my number!” You giggle. 

“Oh right,” he mentally scolds himself shaking his head shyly. 

After you gave Eddie your number, you cast a little memory spell just in case he misplaces the paper, (only for insurance purposes) did you make your way to Robin’s place. 

“Pink!” Robin screams.

“Keep your voice down!” 

Robin totally knew from the beginning that Eddie was the one you summoned. She was excited for you! She knows what love can bring to a person’s life. She and Nancy are lucky to experience it together, and she just wants you to be as happy as they are. 

“You got it B-A-D” she spells out. 

“I do not! I don’t even know him!”

“Pinnnnnnk” she leans in.

“Ugh.” You throw your hands up in defeat and you feel Clover snuggle herself into your lap. 

“Yeah, yeah, you were right.” You pet Clover's back. 

“So now what?” 

“He asked me out” You can’t help but smile, 

“Oh!” Robin points at you again. “Pink!”  She points at you. “I’m talking P-I-N-K!”

You never use your glamour around the coven because why would you? Your emotions could be read from a mile away. 

“What are you guys going to do?”

“I’m not sure, guess we wait to see where the magic takes us”

Nervously, you mix a soothing tonic to ease your racing heart. Deep down, you know that the fates have intertwined your paths for a reason... He feels like the one, yet the mystery surrounding him is overwhelming. This uncertainty fuels your anxiety.

This is the final first date you’ll ever experience, the last time you’ll open your heart to someone new. And for the first time, it feels as if everything is aligning perfectly. But lurking in the back of your mind is the daunting truth that you’ll eventually need to reveal your not-so-little secret.

What if he’s frightened by who you really are? What if he can’t accept it?

The thought of erasing his memories and losing the love of your life is almost too much to bear.

Getting ahead of yourself, lost in thought your attention is checked back into reality when your doorbell rings. With a beep breath, you answer the door. Stood there on your wooden porch was Eddie, looking so handsome. His hair was freshly washed, his shirt freshly ironed and tucked into his pants. He held a bouquet of small purple daisies and a nervous smile. 

“Woah,” he spoke as you opened the door. “You look incredible.” 

“Thank you, and so do you” You feel your cheeks fill with heat, and you pay extra attention to the glamour for your eyes. 

“Shall we?”

“Let’s” You hook your arm in his and he leads the way. 

“So where are you taking me?” You ask as you strap yourself in. 

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, other than witchy stuff” he blushed, “so I thought it was safe to go to the Christmas market.” 

That you were not expecting, and unfortunately for Eddie, he could read it in your face 

“Oh, god, you hate it. I swore all girls love Christmas-“

“No Eddie it’s sweet, it’s just I don’t celebrate Christmas. Well I do, but it’s not what you would think. We, my friends and I, celebrate Yule. It’s Pagan.” 

“Pagan,” He hums to himself, “that’s badass.” 

This makes you giggle, and Eddie sighs with relief that you’re not annoyed at him. 

“There are a lot of Pagan holidays that the Christians stole from us and made their own, but I don’t want to bore you with the details.” You wave your hand dismissively. 

“No, I’d love to learn.” He looks at you earnestly. 

“You sure? I kind of ruined your plans, I still don’t mind going! I do love a good gingerbread cookie and hot chocolate.” You smile. 

“You sure?” 

“I am!” 

“I’m honoured, Sorceress” he smiles and puts his truck into drive.

You had an expectedly wonderful time at the Christmas festival, all thanks to Eddie. He made sure you were snug and warm, wrapping you up so the chill wouldn’t bite. As soon as you stepped through the gates, he treated you to hot chocolate and a gingerbread man.

The two of you shared endless laughter while attempting to ice skate, your conversations flowing effortlessly. Hours slipped by, and before you knew it, your toes were numb, signalling it was time to head home.

Parting ways felt bittersweet; you longed to keep the conversation going all night, but deep down, you knew that would be too much for a first date. The bond you shared was unlike anything you had ever experienced, and it was clear Eddie felt it, too. You could almost see the enchanting connection that drew you together, like shimmering golden dust swirling in the air, creating an invisible thread that linked your hearts.

As Eddie bid you goodnight, he bravely leaned in for a gentle kiss. It was like time stopped, all the puzzle pieces had failed into place. Even it if it was chaste, it was sweet and tender, and you could sense his nervousness, but you let him take his time, savouring the moment. A broad smile spread across your face, silently assuring him that you felt the same spark he did. 

“I’ll call you.” he winks as he walks down the dirt driveway.

You pray to Hecate he does. 

You’ve lost count of the amount of dates you and Eddie have been on. It’s been almost three months and you couldn’t be happier, but the anxiety of telling him about who you are has been clawing at the back of your mind and it needs to be soon. Joyce had warned you that if you don’t take action within the next few weeks then the window of opportunity will be sealed forever. 

It seemed too soon like you were rushing into it. You hadn’t even said I love you, and yet you were expecting him to agree to a life of immortality with you?

Tonight, you had built up the courage to tell him about yourself. You invited Eddie over to your place. He has been here many times, but you glamoured most of the house to look somewhat normal. You hid your runes and sigils that were carved into your door frames, your potions room was made to look like a dining room, and your altar was locked away in the basement.  

But tonight all of that would be revealed, hopefully, it would be a small amount of magic that would t make him go running for the hills. 

As you looked around one last time, you heard Eddie approach the door. 

With a deep breath, you feel Clover rub against your leg for reassurance. 

“Thanks, babe.” You pick her up and open the door to see Eddie with his hand in a fist, like he was about to knock. 

“How do you always do that” he smiles pulling you in for a kiss. You’re not sure how but he always makes your head spin with even the simplest of kisses. 

“Call it intuition…” 

You guide him into the kitchen and offer him a drink. He asked for a beer, and as you pour it into a glass, you may or may not have slipped a drop of that relaxing tonic you conjured up into it, just for insurance purposes. 

“Mmm thank you, babe” Eddie smiles and you giggle at the a beer foam moustache on his face.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You lean in a kiss it away. 

“There, all better.” You lean back up to fix yourself a drink, a strong one. 

You’re unusually quiet as the night goes on, and Eddie can sense something is up. 

“You okay sweetheart?” He pushes your hair behind your shoulder as you both are curled up on the couch. 

“Yea… it’s just. I have to tell you something, and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.” You twiddle with your almost empty glass in hand. 

“You can tell me anything, you know that? Eddie’s reassurance wasn’t helping, but it was nice that he truly thought that.

You take a big, deep breath in, trying to think back to how you rehearsed your lines in your head, and you begin.

“I want you to know that I care about you a lot.” You don’t miss Eddie’s eyes light up as you continue, “and I know what I am about to share is not what you’re going to expect, but you have to believe me that it changes nothing.” You look him deep in the eyes. 

“You’re freaking me out, babe.” He laughs nervously, so you take both his hands in yours. 

“It’s nothing bad, I promise.” 

He chuckles uncomfortably once again.

“I’m not… like… other women.” 

“No, you are not.” He wiggles his brows trying to lighten the mood.” 

“Eddieeee” you draw out his name, “I’m serious.” 

“Sorry, I‘ll be a good boy… for now.” You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Eddie laughs at your dramatics, but when your eyes roll back, making eye contact with him, he notices they’re not the same colour. They’re deep orange, almost auburn. 

“Sweetheart, what’s going on” he tries to pull his hands away but you hold them tight.

“I told you, baby, I’m not like other women, I’m… different.” You thought letting the glamour of your eyes would help soften the blow but now you’re not so sure. 

“Your eyes! They.. they’re orange!” 

Eddie can’t look away, his face contorted with confusion. 

“It’s because I’m anxious.” 

“What does that mean?” He can’t look away. “Please, I want to understand.” 

It wasn’t like he was scared more confused than anything. 

“I’m a Witch, Eddie.” And with that you let the house revert to how it is supposed to be. 

A guest of wind blew through the house and with it was unveiled the old wood, deep rich jewel tones painted on the walls, tapestries, the portraits of old coven members long gone, the broom sweeping by itself, the clean dishes being levitated to their correct spots.

Eddie was frozen, his jaw was moving up and down but no words were coming out. He looked around the changed room frantically but also did not want to look away from you. It’s not that he thought you would hurt him, no. He felt things for you that he’s never felt for one singular person… but now he isn’t so sure. 

“This is insane” Eddie stood and your heart broke a little as you saw him start walking. Almost running to the door. 

“Eddie, please! Let me explain! Don’t be scared!”

“Don’t be scared?! There is a broom moving by itself” he shouts. 

“Please” you beg but it was of no use. 

“Just, give me a second” he spoke before slamming the door behind him he leaves you alone in your big empty house. 

Your eyes well up as you feel clover brush your ankles. Nudging you towards the door. 

She was telling you to go after him, but how could you? You terrified him, your worst fears coming to reality. 

“Clove, I can’t” 

Yes, you can. She spoke to you telepathically. 

As your familiar nudged you with her fluffy little head you stepped closer and closer toward the door. 

Through the stained glass you could see a figure pacing up and down the dirt driveway. 

“He didn’t leave” you whispered out loud. 

See, you look down and Clover is eying you. 

You decided to put the glamour back up, in case your eyes still freaked him out. 

“Eddie” you call out tentatively. 

“Babe, just… I need a minute” his breathing was heavy, his face contorted with confusion and he was mumbling to himself. 

To think you’re the crazy one in this situation…

On the bright side, he still called you babe, and not by your name. 

“Okay,” you stand awkwardly on the porch and wait for him to calm down.

After what felt like hours Eddie built up the courage to glance at you. His heart fluttered at the sight of you. Not because he was scared or nervous but because he knew you were it for him. Even after he digested the bomb you just dropped on him, he knew he wanted to be with you. 

“You are one freaky girl” he pointed as he walked towards the porch steps.

“I thought you liked freaky” You can’t help but flirt. It came so naturally to him. 

“You have no idea” he pulled you in for a hug. A suffocating, bone-crushing hug. One that told you he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Ok let’s talk,” he pulled away and you led him back in the house. 

You started from the beginning, explaining the coven, how your parents were also magical, but had been off gallivanting through the Betwixed realm for years now. 

“So, are you like 100 years old?” He smirks, and you smack his bicep. 

“No, I’m exactly how old I told you I am” 

“Sorry,” he laughed. 

You explain how the magic works, and he asks you if you’ve ever used any on him. 

“The only thing I have used in you is a tonic to calm you but it obviously didn’t work. Guess I needed more for you,” you half laugh to yourself. 

“That’s it? Really?” 

“Technically, yes.” you pause. and he waits silently for you to explain. “I performed an enchantment to find you.” You twiddle the hem of your skirt nervously. 

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t you, specifically, more like a nudge to point us both in the right direction.”

“So that’s why I had that feeling to go somewhere and I hadn’t known why? That’s why I walked into your shop!” He snapped his fingers as he put the pieces together.

“Yeah,” you smile. 

“So you desperately wanted me?” He moved closer, inviting your space. 

“Desperate?” You gasp.

“Yes, little Witch” he placed a gentle finger on your chin, nudging you to look at him. 

“We would have found one another eventually, it was written in the starts. Isn’t that what your cards told us?” 

“But we are running out of time” you confess. 

“What?” Eddie pulled back.

“There is this… rule, I guess you could call it? If a witch finds a mortal match, then they only have a small window to perform a ritual to make their loved one immortal, like them.” 

“Immortal?” 

“Yes, Eddie.” You sigh, “I can live forever if I want. We have life-extending magic, I don’t age the same. Our aging slows down as of the twentieth year of a witch’s life. I will look like this for the next sixty-five years probably.”

“Woah” Eddie whispers. 

“And the thought of us going through life together with you growing old and dying.” You choke back tears. 

“Hey, hey” Eddie soothed, and you took a deep breath. 

“But there is something we can do.” You sniffle. 

“I know it’s so soon, and a bit crazy. But I can promise you forever with me if that’s what you choose” 

Eddie’s eyes widen at the offering, “you don’t have to give me an answer now, but I will need to know soon, maybe a month or so.” 

“Then what?”

“Then I perform the ritual, or I wipe your memory clean of any of this” You can’t help your voice from cracking. 

“Oh,” Eddie looks down in disappointment. 

“Yeah….” A single purple tear falls down your cheek. 

You look up at Eddie and he sees your eyes are a deep blue, so blue Eddie knows what that feeling means. Sadness, despair, suffering. 

“So I live forever with you, or we break up?” 

“Yeah,” you sombrely nod your head. 

“What if I choose to live forever then, let’s say in a hundred years we decide to break up… then what?”

“That won’t happen, it doesn’t work like that.” 

“How do you know?” 

“The fates decided Eddie. When I cast the Amorem enchantment it draws the best two people suited for one another. Think of it like a soul mate match. We will never find another one suited for us.”

“What if I just want to live a normal life with you and not be immortal?” 

“Then I’m going to look like this and you’ll be a wrinkled old prune… and eventually I would watch you die and know that I’ll never have another love like ours.” 

“That dosen’t seem any better.” He sighs

“No, it’s much worse actually” You play with Eddie’s fingers as he contemplates his future. 

“I think I’m going to need something a bit stronger than this beer” he laughs half heartedly. 

“I have just the thing” 

After you whipped up a mood-boosting elixir, your night with Eddie became much easier to get through. The damper had been lifted as you and Eddie got drunk off the potion, boosting your serotonin levels. 

Eddie had never been so carefree and you were begging to feel much more positive about your future with Eddie. Maybe it was false hope in the fates, but you also trusted your magic. 

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie and you were in your bed, tucked in after a long night of just wanting to be close to each other.

“Sure” Eddie scoops you into his chest. 

“Are mermaids real? Because I would love to— ouch!” 

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence” you had pinched his nipple. Were you jealous? Maybe a little, but mermaids were vile creatures, nothing like Disney cracked them up to be. 

“Are they real?” Eddie flinched. 

“Unfortunately” 

“Cool!”

“What about Vampires?”

“Yep.”

“Werewolves?”

“Yep.”

“Unicorns?”

“Come on Eddie don’t be ridiculous” you snort.

“What? So witches, vampires, mermaids and werewolves are all real but the universe draws the line at unicorns?!” 

You burst out into a fit of giggles and before Eddie can even stop to think about what he is staying the words come tumbling out. 

“God, I love you.”  

The room falls quiet, no longer are you laughing. 

“I uh- I mean-“

“I love you, too” You lean down to kiss him. 

That nearly invisible force connecting you was now clear as day, to you at least. The magical pull that binds the two of you is now completed, and will never be broken. 

A faint glow filled the room as Eddie and your lips connected, a warmth was felt throughout your whole body, you were sure Eddie felt it too. The magical thread that connected you, whether Eddie accepted the fates or not… even if you wiped his memory of you, you both would still be able to feel it. No matter how long or how far apart you were. 

“Really? You love me?” Eddie asks. 

“I just asked you to spend forever with me, and you’re questioning if I love you?” 

“I just wanted to hear you say it again.” His lips brushed yours ever so slightly. 

“I love you, Eddie Munson” 

“I love you, little Witch.”

You let down your guard, the magic swirled in flecks of silver and gold light around the two of you as you lay on top of Eddie’s chest. His eyes widen at the sight above him. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever encountered. 

“Woah” he gasped, awestruck at the floating lights. “I think I could get used to this magic thing”

You let out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. Like a weight was lifted once you heard Eddie’s acceptance. Finally, you felt hopeful about your future. 

It’s been a week and a half since your confession to Eddie and things are going surprisingly well. His fascination is ever-growing as he keeps coming up with questions to ask you. The nature of your reality was sinking in, he was enamoured with the thought of you being supernatural. He wanted to learn, and you were happy to teach you were happy he accepted you for who you are and not pushing you away from fear. 

You hadn’t brought up the offer since that night, you were waiting for him to let you know his decision,  but you were hopeful because of his fascination. 

Today was a lazy day, you both have the rare day off at the same time, so Eddie was over and you were cuddling on the couch when he spoke up.

“I want to do it.”

“Do what, babe?”

“Forever with you.”

“Really?” a broad smile spreads across your face. nothing could keep you from your eyes turning yellow. 

Eddie still wasn’t quite used to all your magical quirks. However, he loved that your true mood could be read just by looking into your eyes. He loved learning what each colour meant, especially when they were red. 

“Really.” Eddie gave you a chaste kiss before pulling away to ask how the whole spell thing worked. 

“I think you’re going to like it.” You smirk knowingly.

Sometime later, you were finally finished downstairs in your altar room. The circle of protection chalked on the floor. The muddled herbs, bark and flowers boiled down into a paste, and your grimour propped open onto the spell you needed. 

The room was only lit by candlelight, twenty or so, spread across the room. 

You reach for Eddie’s hand and guide him down the stairs. 

“You must be sure this is one hundred percent what you want. It will not work if you are not willing to give up your mortality.”

“I’ve never been so sure about anyone.” 

“Okay, let us begin” You smirk, knowing Eddie has no idea what he is getting himself into. 

“Strip, please” 

“Oh,” he raises a brow. Then he sees it. Your red eyes. “Ohhh” He quickly discards his clothing. 

You watch as his cock is already stiffening. 

“Now be a good boy and step into the circle and lay down,” you ask while also discarding your garments. 

Eddie quickly obeys your orders. 

“Would you like me to explain the steps before or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“Will it hurt?”

“No” 

“Surprise me.” Eddie didn’t think his cock could be any harder. The anticipation was foreplay enough. 

You begin the ritual with a deep breath, stepping into the circle with your crystal bowl you straddle Eddie. You scoop the paste you created and create sigils over eddies chest with them while chanting in a language Eddie didn’t recognize. 

“Fata, cape hoc humanum meum scrinium amoris. Immortalis est sicut ego. Meus amor, mea lux. Vitam aeternam tribuo ei. Da ei eterinty.” 

Your hips start to gride on Eddie’s as you get lost in the chant. Your magic starts to take over your body as you get lost in all of it. The feeling, the love, the magic. Your red eyes were now glowing pure white. Eddie gazed up at you in awe as you continued chanting. He was not sure if you were still here with him or if something had taken over your body. 

“Fuck.” Eddie slips and your hand covers his mouth before your pussy slips his cock inside. 

Possessed by the magic you were channelling, your body performs the spell. The faster you chanted, the faster you fucked Eddie. 

Sex with you had been amazing, but nothing had compared to this. He loved the thrill of this, there was no way he would change his mind.

Eddie tried to tell you he was going to come, unsure if he was allowed to yet. But your hand still muffled his mouth.

You felt him deep in your gut, His thick cock stretching your walls, hitting every spot you needed. Euphoria was essential to the spell and Eddie sure was holding up his end of it. 

You heard muffled mumbles come for Eddie and you released your hand from his mouth. You were so far into the chanting that you couldn’t be stopped now even if Eddie tried to interrupt. 

“Fata, cape hoc humanum meum scrinium amoris. Immortalis est sicut ego. Meus amor, mea lux. Vitam aeternam tribuo ei. Da ei eterinty. Fata, cape hoc humanum meum scrinium amoris. Immortalis est sicut ego. Meus amor, mea lux. Vitam aeternam tribuo ei. Da ei eterinty.” 

Eddie thinks those words will be etched into his memory forever. 

His hands roam your body before planting them on your hips. He couldn’t help himself he had to have it harder. Planting his feet on the ground, Eddie snaps his hips up into you, meeting your pace. The wet sounds of skin-on-skin echo through the basement walls, faster and faster, louder and louder. Your voice trumps the delicious sounds of sex, and then it hits you both. Your mind-numbing, explosive orgasms rip through each of you. Your bodies shake, and you let out a loud cry of pure bliss.

A blinding white light fills the room, blowing out all the candles you lit before they relate themselves. You collapse on top of Eddie, exhausted by the amount of magic youve performed. 

Breathless you and Eddie stay connected. 

“It is done?” Eddie asks in a daze, not sure if he is supposed to feel any different. 

Without enough energy to speak, you nod your head against Eddie’s chest. 

“You’re incredible, little Witch.”  and that is the last thing you remember before falling asleep. 

You wake up, your cheek cemented to Eddie’s tattoo-clad chest. 

“There she is.” Eddie storks your hair. 

“How long was I out?” you mumble, rubbing the sleep from our eyes. 

“An hour, I can only guess.” 

Eddie shifted and you felt him still inside of you so you grind your soar hips so he slips further in.

“You’re a succubus.” 

“You wish” You kiss his neck. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I could move a mountian.” Eddie sighs as you grind down on him, cock growing with each push. 

“Mmmm, good” you hum. 

Eddie could no longer take it, even though he had the best orgasm of his life an hour ago, you were like a drug to him. He wanted more. 

Flipping you around so you are on your back, Eddie spreads your legs further apart, watching how his cock buried deep within you.

You admire the now permanent sigil etched into his skin like a tattoo. You didn’t even know if Eddie was aware of the new ink that came with forever existence, but that all gets erased when his hips jerk so deeply within you that your eyes turn a colour Eddie has never seen before. The most beautiful deep purple. 

“Baby" you moan. 

“Fuck, little Witch,” you can’t help but clamp down on him. 

“Oh you like that don’t you, Sorceress.” 

“Y-yes” you tremble.” 

Eddie can’t believe how powerful he feels; you’ve granted him this gift and he needs to show his appreciation in return. 

He pulls out, and you plead, but not for long because he buries his face between your legs. Your sweet slick coats his tongue as it dances around your clit. 

“More” You plead. Your hips gride down on his chin, and the stubble on his cheeks scrapes your inner thighs. 

“I’ll give you anything you want.” He was yours to serve. His tounge swirls around your extra sensitive clit.

“Make me cum.” 

A wave of pleasure hits you hard when Eddie pushes his cock back inside your needy cunt. With each thrust, he works himself through your orgasm, making your head spin; wave after wave consumes your body. You feel his hands graze your nipples, tweaking them and making you clench down on him even tighter. 

With Eddie’s head thrown back, sweat dripping down his chest glittering the candle light he looked like a deity. 

After one more final thrust Eddie collapses on top of you. 

“That was amazing.” He nuzzles into your neck and you can’t help but agree. 

When Eddie finally pulls out, you feel a rush of release come out with him. 

“You’re a messy little Witch, aren’t you?”

“Me?” 

“Yes” he slips a finger through your slit collecting your combined cum and you jerk away, your cunt all so sensitive. 

“Well, you’re the one who asked for it” you smirk. 

“I would be an idiot to deny being with you like this for eternity”

“You think so?” 

“Know so.”

tags : @ghostlyfleur @veemoon @abitchyouhate @thewayitalknj @mediocredreams @deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth @daisy-munson @strawberrycheesecakedelight @just-random-thoughts-and-things @oneforthemunny @gagasbee @abirdinthehouse @saintlvcifer @hauntedfawnn @eerielamb @munson-blurbs @hellfire--cult @andvys @pollenallergie

[hope-for-the-planet]

What if there's already nothing left to save? There's microplastics in the clouds and soil and our blood and brains. Climate disasters and warming are happening faster than scientists thought it would and all the governments in the whole world are just protecting the corporations and billionaires that are causing this. We're not safe, too much irriversable damage has been done already and its getting worse even more and I'm so scared. We could hit so many tipping points that will kill everyone very soon if things dont change completely from how it is now. I'm only in high school I just want a future. Please tell me I have a future

Hi Anon,

I received a bunch of asks similar to this one over the last several days, and I’m not sure if they are all from you or just a lot of people feeling similarly—but I’m going to try to cover them all here.

First, you still have a future. Full stop. And if you don’t want to take it from me, take it from actual NASA climate scientist Kate Marvel, who said “I unequivocally reject, scientifically and personally, that children are somehow doomed to an unhappy life”.

The future may be harder and more complicated than we would have envisioned without the obstacle of climate impacts—it will certainly be different. But it can absolutely still be full of joy and fulfillment and happiness.

Climate change is not a switch that gets flipped when we reach a certain threshold and then almost everyone dies or lives in a post apocalyptic disaster-movie reality. Climate impacts mean a gradual increase in the difficulty of meeting everyone’s needs, mitigating increasing natural disasters, preserving vital ecosystems, etc. as the climate gets warmer. Tipping points may accelerate that change, but it's still not a matter of a "human society kill switch".

Second, I’m so sorry you are feeling this way. I’m sorry that you feel like your future has been taken from you before it’s even started, I’m sorry that you feel betrayed by the generations that came before you. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to be a high schooler right now, entering into adulthood at a time when the world is in such turmoil without the years of adult life experience to give some buffering perspective.

I know that looking at all the progress we still need to make it seems impossible that we will get anywhere close to where we need to be—but when I was in high school the idea that we would make as much progress as we have right now seemed laughably impossible. In my high school reality carbon capture was a sci-fi idea, electric cars were basically nonexistent, clean energy was such a negligible drop in the bucket that no one really believed could ever meet a significant portion of our energy needs, and climate change was generally considered a low-priority, "tree-hugger" issue if people even believed it was real.

The idea that we would have this much popular support, this much worldwide government action, this much investment and progress in clean energy and other climate solutions would have made my high school self cry with disbelieving happiness.

Every tenth of a degree of warming that we avoid will make life in the future measurably easier. We’ve already shifted that needle from 4 degrees to 2.7 in just a couple of decades. We need to keep pushing, but we are making progress and we have already steered the world away from the worst and most apocalyptic climate impacts.

Just getting this far is incredible, heroic work. That is millions of real humans that have been saved from death and poverty, that is an entire planet of people whose lives will be better than they would have been otherwise.

There is still a beautiful, vibrant, complex, life-giving world out there to save. Things will be different, the world will be different, but there is still a future to look forward to. And I would bet that when you've been out of high school for a couple of decades, the future you'll look back from will have seen a lot more progress than you're expecting right now.

(PS Just as a final side note, if you're feeling spiraling climate anxiety all the time, I would really encourage you to reach out to friends, family, or a therapist for support. Any kind of anxiety--climate related or not--can have a really awful impact on your mental health and we all need extra help sometimes (speaking as a very anxious person myself))

[evanhereonearth]

The Insidious Cycle of the Abuser Who Says They Love You: Mythal and Solas

Likely goes without saying, but Veilguard spoilers all under the jump.

I have been absolutely wrecked by the end scenes in Veilguard for weeks now, and I want to do a deep dive into Solas's relationship with Mythal and how it absolutely reeks of abuse. Long post incoming!

CW for heavy discussion of cycles of abuse, trauma response, and abuse tactics.

When I finished my first playthrough, this moment hit me like an absolute freight train. His visceral response to her presence and the way he instinctively retreats and flinches back/puts out a hand to protect himself is a full-blown trauma response.

And then she starts talking and moving towards him, and it gets worse.

Solas curls in on himself; his body goes even further into self-protection mode. His face is downcast, not the way he bowed to his vhenan moments before with a straight back and open posture, but shrinking.

And then as she advances, he cowers.

He completely folds inward. He crumples; he shakes, he hyperventilates, and the moment she reaches for him, he fumblingly offers her the lyrium dagger to kill him with.

Is this shame? Yes, of course, but it's far, far more than that.

For the sake of brevity, I'm going to limit this list to the four most widely recognised trauma responses:

Fight

Flight

Freeze

Fawn

As someone whose primary trauma response is fawn (wooo CPTSD), which is intensely common among people who experience complex trauma, especially through emotional and prolonged physical/mental abuse where their needs are discarded, pushed aside, or otherwise steamrolled, I felt this right alongside Solas. My own body responded to seeing it. This is, quite frankly, one of the most visceral and realistic (and extreme) fawn responses I've seen depicted in media.

Mythal in this scene is...phew, something else.

"She was the best of them," Solas tells us in Trespasser.

But she was not good, everything tells us in Veilguard.

Let's look at his regrets in chronological order.

Through Solas's memories of regret, we see this germinate in his foundational regret: leaving the Fade to take a physical form.

He does not want to do this. He tells her he does not want to do this. From the conversation, it's clear it's not the first time she's asked.

And the way she asks? Outright coercion.

"You have so long observed the world. Why not consider joining it?" [I want you to do this thing, so I will frame it as logical for you to make the choice I want you to make.]

"But I have no desire to live as humans. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form. I think you underestimate the danger." [I don't want to do that. It does not feel safe to me.] "When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake?" [This is dangerous and selfish.]

"The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade; we are the best of both physical and Fade." [It makes us powerful, so I don't care about the risks.] "I need your wisdom, Solas, to withstand the louder voices like Elgar'nan's who would go too far." [If you do not come with me, a tyrant you abhor will make others suffer.] "I need you."

"This is madness. You must know that." [I don't want to do this at all. This will hurt me. I don't want this.] "I will always follow where you go." [Because I love you and trust you.]

Mythal's words in this part are classic abusive framing. When appealing to his natural curiosity does not work and he expresses strong rejection of her logical thought process (just because I have observed this place does not mean I want to go there, echoing his comments to the Inquisitor in DAI: "Many Orlesian peasants dream of travelling to exotic Rivain. But not everyone wants to go to Rivain!") and expresses that there is significant danger to continue to build bodies out of lyrium, she changes tactics.

Her second tactic is that it gives them power--she implies that he is limited and not enough for being only of the Fade. If he follows her, he will be the best of both, like she is. She clearly already sees herself as above him.

Her third tactic is pure emotional blackmail: "I need you. I will give in to the tyrants without your wisdom, and having your counsel in the Fade is not enough. If you don't go against your own nature and desires, people will suffer...and it will be your fault for not being by my side."

She doesn't say those things outright, but they are implied by everything she is saying. He says again he doesn't want it--that it is madness and that she must be aware of that despite her ignoring any suggestion that she actually is. All she is seeing is power and her desires: for Solas to do what she wants him to do.

So he agrees. Because she is his friend, and she says she needs him.

As far as core wounds go, this one is a doozy. It's absolutely brutal, because it's irrevocable. It's a point of no return. It's the first in what will become millennia of regret, of her ignoring the Wisdom she coerced out of the Fade to do what she wants regardless, to continue to push him to twist his nature under the guise of the greater good, to continue to cede to Elgar'nan and enable the very tyrants she promised him to balance.

This regret was deeply painful for me to watch. The nuance here is easily lost if people don't understand abuse tactics and how this sort of manipulation is used. It also serves to bind Solas to Mythal, an enormous sunk cost fallacy in the making--once he has made this choice, there is no going back.

And you see Solas curled in on himself in anguish and regret from the trauma of taking a physical form. It is in deep, painful contrast to his open, free wingspan as a spirit of Wisdom; he will never be the same.

"Have you created what we need?" From the outset Mythal is framing this as his idea as much as hers, when from everything he says, that is not true.

"With this, the proper ritual will sunder every Titan from its spirit. But you must know, those severed dreams will certainly be driven mad, a disembodied blight of pain and anger. It--is--awful what we are doing."

"And the only way to end this war."

Again, Solas offers the wisdom she claimed she took him from the Fade to listen to. He warns her, again, of the danger. He does not want to do this. Just like he warned her of the earth quaking when they made their bodies--they, the Evanuris, started this war by taking what they wanted regardless of who it hurt. He never wanted to participate in it, but now he is in the middle of that war. Mythal was one of the initial perpetrators of this war; she brought Solas into it against his will because he loved her, and now he's stuck. He is past his point of no return. And she is still using his heart against him. She has isolated him from everyone he knew in the Fade; he has no one to support him. He. Only. Has. Her.

This is another classic abuse tactic; if the person being abused has no one else, they will continue to enable that abuse even if it harms others, because they cannot see a way out. If you don't do what I say, it will destroy our children, our family. If you don't do what I say, this war will consume all you have, and you no longer have a home to return to. If you don't do what I say and hurt yourself and the Other, more will suffer, and it will be your fault.

Again, his posture, curled up and broken, appearing to cradle a now-tranquil Titan beneath him--and be embraced in return. This is an interesting artistic choice here, one that aches. It speaks to the depth of his own wound and how much it rent his own spirit to follow through with Mythal's wants here; that it sundered him from his spirit as much as it did the Titans.

"You cannot do this, Elgar'nan! You swore we would give up our commands when this war was over!"

"Our people need our leadership. If you are unwilling, leave."

From Elgar'nan, this is expected. From Mythal?

"Our people must rebuild. And we must help unite them."

Solas, once again, betrayed. He put his trust in Mythal and in the other Evanuris to follow through with their promise. Everything he has done thus far is poisoned in this moment; had the Evanuris indeed stepped back rather than stepped on necks, perhaps Solas could have healed, found a way to live with what he had done, maybe even to make amends. But this starts his war anew--and Mythal is standing with his enemy despite her promises, despite every wheedling word she's used to get what she wants from him over the centuries and longer, despite him turning from everything, everything, he loved to love her. This is the moment where he understands that he has only been a tool to her all along.

"So we did not fight for freedom, but to conquer this land and our own."

Let's pick apart Solas's words.

So we did not fight for freedom: He truly believed that he was fighting for freedom, that no matter how bad it got, that he could bear it for freedom.

But to conquer this land: Literally the land, I think, because of the Titans. To subdue them at all costs. This was not what he came for, but he believed Mythal.

And our own: Our own, our people, more spirits we gave bodies for this war, more who may not have wanted to leave the Fade. Our own, our people. To Solas, he is one of them. In this moment, he realises how much Mythal holds herself above all of them.

Elgar'nan's words are all too telling: "We fought to win. And now the Evanuris are as gods. I do not answer to Mythal's annoying lapdog."

They all--all--see him thus. As her pet.

Because he is. She has, until now, controlled him utterly with her manipulation and "need" for him.

"The people are afraid. They must believe in something." Mythal does not even stand up for Solas here; she does not reject Elgar'nan's perception of him. All she does is further distance herself.

The people are afraid: The Evanuris made them. They are as controlled as Solas and more.

Elgar'nan asserts, "They need strength."

"And wisdom." Mythal has the absolute gall to attribute this to herself, when Solas is the source of the wisdom she "needed" for so long. (Belated addition: And another level here: she may also be saying again that she needs him, but doing so in a way that doesn't require her to stand up for him directly. Honestly, fucking gross.)

"They need gods who can protect them," Elgar'nan continues.

"We are not gods. You will learn that." Solas's voice here is pure defeat. The scales are falling from his eyes.

"Every lapdog holds a wolf inside," says Elgar'nan.

Solas knows that Elgar'nan's "protection" is hollow, based on subjugation. And I think in this moment, he learns that Mythal's is based only in her belief that she is better than those beneath her, who cannot possibly handle themselves.

So her lapdog becomes the Wolf.

"I was not certain you would come."

Solas's opening words in this regret show the distance between them already and how much he has realised he does not know this woman who called herself his friend.

And her response is to instantly blame him.

"You are the one who walked away. I never turn my back when my friend needs me."

In putting this post together, this line absolutely sucker punched me. I've watched these several times already, but the absolute audacity to blame him for standing up for his principles for the first time against all her manipulation? Hoo.

She blames him for doing just that, "turning his back when his friend needed him." She needed her enabler, and when he stopped, she turned bitter. Just like any abuser.

That he goes straight into "The Evanuris seek the magic of the Blight" instead of engaging, honestly shows that he's still Wisdom. That is one battle that is unwinnable, trying to stand up against an abuser's bullshit like that.

"Impossible," she says. "The Blight is safely sealed away forever."

Gaslight, girl boss, gatekeep.

"Though I wish I could believe you." [You have lied to me so many times.] "I have sensed the breaking of the wards."

And her answer is patronising. "I will investigate your claims." [I don't believe you.] "If they forget the danger of the Blight, I will endeavour to remind them."

Solas knows this is futile. "What if, instead, you left the Evanuris and remained with me? Do you not wish for freedom from this struggle?"

He asks her, again, to veer from the dangerous path. He desperately wants to believe he was not completely wrong about her, I think. If she were to leave, he could heal somewhat, for not having so thoroughly misjudged her character.

Am I enough for you? Was I ever enough? is the unspoken question here when he asks if she will remain with him.

And in return, he gets back even more patronising bullshit and hubris. "Be at peace, love. I will stop them."

(Can you tell Mythal pisses me off?)

She calls him love. What an unbearable insult after everything, to go on telling him she cares for him whilst ignoring his wisdom--the very wisdom she coerced him into leaving the Fade so she would have by her side--and consolidating her own power at the expense of his people.

"As you must," he says. "The Blight is our mistake."

Might be unpopular, but I do not think Solas bears a split fifty-fifty custody for whose fault the Blight is. Could he have said no about the dagger? Could he have pushed then? Maybe. But by this point, he'd already had probable millennia of complex trauma and a deeply abusive codependent relationship, probably also a level of magical bond. Like, sorry, Trick and BioWare, if you want to retcon everything you shared with us in Inquisition about being in service to the Evanuris ("You have given yourself into the service of an ancient elven god! You are Mythal's creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her.") AND Mythal casually overriding her servants' will and Solas burning her vallaslin off his face and leaving a scar and devoting himself to freeing the elven people from the Evanuris's domination, fine, but I don't buy it. Even if there was no magical compulsion on him all this time, that is immaterial.

Complex trauma literally rewires the brain to survive. She spent lifetimes programming him, isolating him, stripping from him every bit of agency he had. This man did not have the capacity to say no.

When our no is trampled even for a few months or years, we stop trying to use it. We comply. We, as mortal humans, cannot begin to comprehend the compounded trauma of millennia of this happening with the stakes of worlds in the balance. Solas, quite simply, has lost the entire ability to consent. No one of us can even imagine.

Yet he managed to walk away from her somehow, when she chose Elgar'nan. This man is stronger than anyone gives him credit for.

The dagger was clearly Mythal's idea. The plan to sever the Titans from their dreams, clearly her idea. To end the war. For there to be "peace". For there to be "freedom". Except that never came.

His loyalty was to her and to their people; hers was only ever to herself.

And again, she walks away and lets Solas suffer.

What a good friend.

[screaming from the general direction of Scotland]

She put her trust in monsters instead of her oldest friend, and the monsters ate her face.

Anyone surprised? I'm surprised. (I'm not surprised.)

And on top of this, Mythal finally, finally giving Solas one tiny breadcrumb that she had any principles remaining? I think that cemented his bindings to her forever. Not just that the Evanuris killed her, but why they killed her: because after millennia, she listened to him.

For someone that deep into trauma and abuse? Well. We know what happened.

It cannot be overstated that with his imprisonment of the Evanuris and the Blight, Solas saved the entire world. The entire world. Every living being in Thedas had a chance at life because of him. Only because of him.

Morrigan says it early on in the game, that for all the consequences of the veil (which, it also must be said, was not supposed to be global!), "his imprisonment of the Evanuris was just. Had he not done so, all of Thedas would have fallen to the Blight."

And the world has hated him for it.

He woke after sleeping for millennia, exhausted by this immense act of magic, to discover that not only had it gone horribly wrong, but that it had cost his people everything. That Tevinter had come in and enslaved them, released a trickle of the Blight after breaking into the Black City, used so much blood magic that the veil itself all over Thedas has been in tatters--not least because in releasing the Blight, the survivors had had to face down and kill the dragon thralls (archdemons) of the Evanuris, rendering five out of seven of them mortal, and with their deaths over the intervening centuries, the veil had grown threadbare with only two Evanuris sustaining it.

The risks were catastrophic, the price unbearable.

Everything he'd ever done to protect the world could still come crashing down...and in a sick twist of fate, he would be alive to see it.

And, shockingly, so would Mythal.

Mythal, whose fragment has just been chilling in a swamp for centuries in human form. Mythal, whose abuse of him lasted through the entirety of the world's history. Mythal, who, due to the Evanuris's betrayal and her abusee's abandonment, has become little more than retribution.

Mythal, who could have set him free at any point in all this time and didn't, because he was hers.

Mythal, who is the only remaining person with the power to do what he feels must be done.

I find it interesting that they chose not to use the post-Inquisition dialogue at all. Interesting also that they used Mythal's voice actor and not Flemeth's. This feels like a retcon, but we'll go with it. Whatevs.

"I knew that you would find me soon enough. You need the power of a god, the strength that I alone still carry."

She's still asserting her own godhood.

He's not having it. "The blighted Evanuris will soon break free from their prison. I must make a stronger one that can contain them."

He's not wrong. Not even a little bit wrong. And he's also right that she won't help him. Why would she? She never has.

"While the prison is important, it is not the only goal you seek."

"Why should I not tear down the veil? And bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it."

And this is where I get even more raging, because Mythal's answer is this: "The elven people of today do not deserve to see the world they love torn apart to salve your conscience."

I'm sorry, what?

The world they love? The world that has offered them nowt but literal genocide for thousands of years? The world where in Tevinter, they're chattel slaves and worse, fuel for blood magic without a thought? The world where in the "civilised", slaveless nations to the south, they're either confined to alienages and subjected to repeated genocide (that's what a "purge" is, if anyone isn't clear on that) or the remnants of the Dales, who are the descendents of another enormous genocide? The world where elven magic has been pillaged but elven mages in human settlements are confined to Circles and abused or made tranquil or also genocided by Templars invoking the Rite of Annulment? The world where they're called "elf savage" and "rabbit" and "knife ear" and cannot participate in Thedosian religious life because the Chantry erases every instance of elves from even the Chant of Light? The world where it took the Inquisitor installing a perpetrator of genocide on the Orlesian throne (both Celene AND Gaspard fit this bill) and either having Celene reconcile with Briala (Briala and Celene's relationship could be a whole other post. Boak.) and blackmailing them to give a single elf lands and a title? That world????

What the fuck, Mythal, die faster.

I got real mad there for a second. I'm fine. I'm fine!

Solas, once more, simply says, "I must fix what I have broken. I am sorry."

More than she deserves, frankly. Man's a mess, but at least he tries. She's been chilling in a swamp and pulling puppet strings for ages and abusing her kids. Nudging history like it's some sort of hobby, because it has always just been pieces on a board to her. They have never been people in her eyes like they are in his.

"As am I, old friend."

Aye, get tae fuck. Friends don't treat friends the way you treated Solas. The closest thing to an apology Solas will ever get from her is that she pretty much just lies down and dies when he comes to kill her. And she still won't set him free before he does. Has to continue to twist her own knife.

This scene has me riled.

And this takes us back to the beginning of this post.

To her essence showing up to release him from her service.

In what is, to me, the least accountable, bare minimum non-apology (she never actually says she's sorry) I've had the displeasure to witness in a videogame, with Solas literally cowering before her and offering her a knife to kill him with since this is the first time he's seen her actual, non-Flemythal face since she died.

This was never a friendship of equals. Ever.

She got one thing right. She did break him. But she knew it all this time, and she never took a single step to put it right until pushed. Her corner of the Crossroads, which he built for her in the desperate hope that she would show a glimmer of the friend he believed she was, notably has a pair of wolf statues. Both beheaded.

She's spent all this time punishing him further.

He never went to visit her? I wouldn't either. I could not blame him.

This has gone to an angry place. So let's conclude with what is, I think, the entire point.

Grace.

"I lied. I betrayed you."

"I forgive you."

Has anyone--anyone--in all his long life, ever said those words to him?

I'll say that again: has anyone--ANYONE--in all his millennia of existence, EVER said those words to him?

I forgive you.

Mythal certainly didn't.

The world certainly didn't.

He has shouldered all the blame of an entire pantheon, a war that broke the world, a blight, everything, always, and while people have come alongside him to help him, I am not sure anyone (certainly not anyone he cares about) has given him the grace of forgiveness.

The beauty of this final scene for me wasn't just Ilaana, wasn't just Ilaana reuniting with the man she has loved for a decade who has spent all that time pushing her away so he couldn't--in his mind--inevitably poison the love of the only person who has seen his spirit and cherished it without twisting him.

It was the slow realisation that Rook trusted his love enough to try.

It was Morrigan, who carries all Mythal's memories and her own of Flemythal's abuse and machinations, who responds to Rook's question about her views of Solas with: "Or do you mean to discover if I would stand directly against the Dread Wolf, were there a need? I shall aid you in any way but that. What has passed between Solas and Mythal...I beg you: do not ask this of me again."

Morrigan knows. She will not raise a hand against him. She will not try to stop him. She will let the veil fall. She will not fight with Rook. Because she knows this being whose memories she holds has harmed him enough.

Solas, in these final moments, even before Mythal shows up to gut punch him, realises all these people have somehow, somehow, banded together to help him.

Not work for him.

Not be his agents.

Not worship him.

Not follow him blindly.

To help him. To help Solas. To help him, after all this time, take the first steps towards himself. Towards his own essence, so long twisted into something he never sought or wanted.

The Inquisitor and Morrigan certainly understand what it's like to be seen only as the symbol others raise in your image. Rook will learn that someday, but is still naive.

But even with that naivete, willing. Present. Able to put aside being a chess piece on his board. Able to see that they would never have succeeded without his help. Able to trust two people who know him better than they ever will.

Able to offer him grace.

And when they produce Mythal's essence, how that must brutalise him; to think that perhaps all this has been to let his abuser kill him back. He clearly thinks that's what's happening. He breaks. He fawns. He offers her the blade that has caused so much pain.

Her release of him is the bare minimum she owes him. I've already railed about that.

What is transcendent here, transformative--it is the mortals.

The mortals offering grace to a god who never wanted to be a god.

It's them together showing him a way out of an endless cycle of trauma and abuse. No one of them alone is enough. Without Rook, they wouldn't have Mythal's essence; Morrigan can't go get it, and she can't do what is needed because she's not actually Mythal, only has her memories. Without Morrigan, who can stand there with those memories but from the compassionate perspective of someone who has watched them in horror from the outside. She's far from objective, but she can do this one thing to help.

Without the Inquisitor (romanced or not, still someone he let know him as he most desperately wanted to be known--the Fade-walker, the Dreamer, the humble mage who desperately needed a friend). The Inquisitor, who kneels before him to comfort him. Who sees his hurt and responds.

If romanced, without Lavellan, who kneels to repeat back words he once shouted at the Nightmare in the Fade after Adamant.

"Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ema mar din." (Speak, traitor. Your victory was fruitless. Your pride gives way only to your death.)

To which Solas replied, "Banal nadas."

On the surface, nothing is inevitable, but can also be taken to mean that nothingness is inevitable, entropy, the final void. (Thanks to Dumped, Drunk, and Dalish for this excellent long post on this scene.)

And here is Lavellan, kneeling beside him with those words. "Banal nadas ar lath, ma vhenan."

Nothing is inevitable but the love we share, my heart.

I see everything you are, all you have done, and I love you. I forgive you for the pain you have caused me. I understand, see, and forgive.

No one has ever shown him grace like this.

Ever.

And Solas, this shattered man, sobs.

He sobs.

Someone has taken the trouble to isolate his voice in the video. This man has nothing left. And, after millennia of this trauma cycle repeating over and over, he is finally free to make the choice he wants to make. It's not the outcome he wants; that has to be said. He doesn't want to leave the veil up. He doesn't want to be bound into prison forever with no hope of seeing the world he fought for ever return.

But he is done.

In the Fade after Adamant, there is a cemetery with the worst fears of every companion scriven on shrines and stones. Solas's is dying alone.

After all of this, he is willing to face just that--and would, if not for her.

She knows his deepest fears. She has faced the demon Mythal made of the man she loves. She has given unwitting comfort to the spirit of Wisdom still within. She has seen his sweetest self. Nurtured him, cherished him, and has been nurtured and cherished in return.

Does she want to leave the world behind and spend eternity in a Fade prison? Probably not her first choice. It's not my Ilaana's; she has been on his side all this time, dreaming of a world where the spirits she loves can be reunited with the world in peace and ready to make that happen.

But it was not supposed to happen this way. It did happen this way anyway.

He has sacrificed everything--everything--including his own spirit self, his soul, his life. How could she not offer him what no one ever has? A friend forever, a lover willing to walk the din'an shiral by his side, a companion to ward off the forever alone.

Together, the two of them can begin to heal, with their counterpart who has always seen through the burdens of the world to the soul within.

This is the only thing I've ever had any faith in. Grace I know you carry us Grace And it was such a mess Grace I don't say it enough Grace You are so loved

[ubeb0nes]

Things Sevika says as your lover…

❧ ❧ ❧

Let me do it. / I'll handle it. / Don't worry, I'll take care of it.

She wants to take care of you so, so bad. Whether that's opening every door and pulling out every chair for you, or wiping someone off the face of the earth in your name.

She's in her element when she's of service. Deep down, she thinks that as long as she proves useful then your continued affection is almost guaranteed.

Can't do that anymore, my woman/partner said so. / Wrap this up. I gotta get home to them.

She is yours, no ifs or buts about it. And she makes sure everyone knows how fiercely loyal she is, she will not be doing anything to disrespect your boundaries or your relationship.

Obviously her work and her abrasive nature will put a natural strain on some parts of your relationship, but she's never intentionally causing you distress. Loyalty's her most important personal value, and you have the most of hers.

No, get behind me! / I said stay here. / I need you safe, understand?

You're a culmination of everything she's fighting for. All the beauty of Zaun, her reason for sticking her heart in this city, you are all of that personified. So you can't die. You can't get hurt.

If she has to lock you in the house to keep you from following her into a death mission, she will. You'll understand. She's always taken a beating for the ones she loves, the role thrust upon her that she now clings to like a hardy mask.

Stand down. / Down, baby. / I don't care if you don't like it, follow orders.

If you follow her into combat, good luck with getting bossed around like crazy. She always keeps you in her line of sight, preferably also within three feet of you so she can jump in front of you to sacrifice another limb if need be.

She's also absolutely zero nonense while working. She isn't flirting with you or showing vulnerability in front of her crew, but she is relishing in getting to tell you what to do (and she expects you to heed immediately).

'S all for you, doll… / Mm-mm, you're not getting up… / Pretty thing… so warm… love you so much…

She only ever talks like this when she's sleepy, or just waking up. She doesn't say I love you much (outside of when she's leaving for work), as to her, it takes away from the weight of it (WRONG imo, but in character i think lol).

The sweetest sweetheart ever when she's all wrapped up in your arms. Her voice is even lower in the mornings, with a distinct gravel to her tone. She uses it to her advantage, whispering such sweet things in your ear as she "subtly" traps you in her arms to keep you in bed.

She keeps repeating the same things over and over again, praising you and professing her love like there's no tomorrow. Her favorite love language switches to words of affirmation while she's drowsy lol.

So good to me, god you keep me sane. / I'm gonna fuckin' give you everything… / You smell so good, I could eat you (she then does actually try to bite you and you scream and push her off the bed)

Nsfw under the cuttt~

Uh uh, don't run from me. / Stop moving. / You're gonna take it either way, don't whine.

One of your favorite games is to see how long you can hold out being a brat (i.e., closing your legs every time she spreads them, shifting your hips away, etc.) before you make her snap and she just manhandles you.

Her displays of strength are usually subtle, like lifting you steadily off the floor and laying you down slowly on the bed without struggle. But when you do finally get her to snap, she's flipping you over on the bed like a pancake, and holding you up against the wall with just her human arm as she fucks you. She barely breaks a sweat holding you down on the bed, no matter how strong or how determined your bratty ass may be.

I'm never fuckin' sharing you, baby. / Look at me. Don't look away, those are *my* pretty eyes, I wanna see them. / Is that good, doll? Whose making you feel good? Mhm, and don't forget it…

Chances are that you end up being the jealous one in your relationship rather than her. But she is extremely possessive. When she gets especially in a mood, she's intent upon fucking you until your brain melts and you're nothing but putty in her hands, obsessed with her.

She reminds you how good she makes you feel, and how she's the only one that can fuck you that way. You're always extra cuddly and touchy in the days following, and she loves it because she knows it means she's stuck on your mind.

[awarmbowlofhomemadesoup]

What I love about Dungeon Meshi is that it writes platonic relationships with the same weight romantic stories would normally be written.

The Character that Got Their Heart Broken Too Many Times

Humanity broke Laois' heart. This is taken advantage later on by the Wingled Lion, but I digress.

Laois got bullied in all-boys school to the point that he ran away to become a soldier. Heartbreak #1.

He got harrassed in the training camp to the point that he became a deserter. Heartbreak #2.

The combination of these events were so bad, his lack of basic self-care can be a sign of a depressive state. If Falin hadn't joined him, who knows what would've happened to him.

Laois was so happy when he became friends with Shuro and felt so betrayed when Toshiro said he couldn't stand him. Not exactly a heartbreak #3 but it hurt all the same. They got past it but Laois remembers.

And when Kabru, for once in his life, stopped playing poker and laid down his cards, Laois wasn't going to let his heart be hurt for the fourth time.

The biggest thing that stands out to me in this manner is how Kabru's blurted confession of wanting to be friends with Laois was treated as much as a big revelation as a romantic one. Because the weight of that confession is Kabru's character development.

The Character Whose Sincerity Doesn't Come Easy for Him

This guy grew up being infantilized and not taken seriously by the elves for being a short-lived race. So, he honed diplomacy as sharp as his assassin's blade.

He knows the right things to say and when to say them, making him well-liked by everyone (much to his team's chagrin over their loved ones). And yet his personal cause puts a distance between him and his trusted teammates (including his childhood friend).

To say his true feelings and thoughts would end up with long-lived races dismissing him for being unwise and irrational.

So he keeps his cards to himself and works with subtlety throughout the manga, until things got worse, and he couldn't make Laois stay.

And he was left with nothing but to be sincere.

Right from the start, he said he wanted the Touden siblings to be unmasked. But in the end, he unmasked himself, much to his horror.

Addition edit: Kabru has been keeping his cards close to himself for so long, I don't think he realized what he really feels until he blurted it out. He chased after Laois throughout the dungeon because Laois might defeat the mad sorcerer. But for a guy who wants to understand everyone, he never understands what he feels about Laois and what that feeling means until his brain catches up with his mouth.

After decking Laois for not believing him, Kabru elaborated in his confession. He has developed a platonic crush (plush for short) or desire to be friends with Laois because:

1. Kabru wants to understand how Laois could love the very thing Kabru hates. Hate is just another face of fear. We fear what we don't understand. To understand Laois is to understand monsters. I think Kabru finds it admirable that Laois could admire monsters when everyone just view them as a threat.

2. He wants Laois to care about the same thing he does, which is saving humanity. Laois and co. are willing to side with the demon to protect Marcille from the Canaries. By asking to be Laois friend, Kabru becomes Laois' link to humanity that whatever they would do from there with the demon, please don't forget how it might affect other people outside his friends. And by gods, this is important to Kabru's development because he has never asked for help for his cause nor asked anyone to care because he's too used to the self-serving nature of all races. And yet, he chose to believe in Laois. Because if Laois could go that for his sister and elven friend, what more if he could do the same for what Kabru cares the most?

However, it was only in the end that they were able to talk after things had settled down. And they are so different and so alike at the same time.

Source

In this scene, there are two differing thoughts:

Laois, who experienced social rejection growing up: Do you still mean it?

Kabru, who had to deal with those of higher power: Are you testing me?

But they're still thinking the same thing: Is this real?

Like, all of their motivations have the weight often molded into romantic plots in any other story. A character who got their heart broken too many times and another character whose honesty does not come easy for them. But it's not a romantic story, but a start of a beautiful friendship.

There are more examples out there, but this is what came to my mind. Feel free to add more.

[reasonsforhope]

"In one of the more remarkable marches of human progress, Bangladesh has reached the point of near-universal electricity access for its citizens.

Coupled with the rapid electrification has been one of the greatest single declines in the poverty rate of a nation ever seen, falling from 44.2% in 1991 to 18.7% in 2022.

In 1991, only 14% of the nation had access to electricity. By 2021, 99% had access.

Granted, half of these households are considered according to Our World in Data to have lower tier access, which accounts for home lighting and charging mobile phones at least 4 hours a day, but the other half are considered as having higher tier access, defined as the added capacity to power high-load appliances (such as fridges) for more than eight hours a day.

Bangladesh is the world’s most densely populated large country with a density of 3,020 per square mile. As the twelfth densest country in the world, the 11 above Bangladesh are all microstates whose combined land area would not even equal half the size of the smallest state in Bangladesh.

To put this into perspective, (a rather silly perspective) if one wanted to reduce the population density of Bangladesh to that of Mongolia, its borders would have to include both all of Africa and all of Eurasia. That’s how crowded Bangladesh is, and what these amazing reductions in poverty truly mean to global human flourishing."

-via Good News Network, January 21, 2025

--

Note: This is the kind of thing I mean when I say that very, very few people in the West know the degree to which absolutely massive societal progress has been happening in a lot of different developing countries.

Especially around access to infrastructure and access to electricity.

The quality of life improvements to electricity access are massive.

It's not just access to phones/the internet (already a huge deal that opens up massive channels of communication and information-sharing).

It's being able to preserve food because you have a fridge, meaning you get to spend less money on food/have less food waste/run fewer errands/have way more flexibility around food.

It's being able to do things after dark, because you have a lightbulb. It's being able to work late, make more of your time.

It's less air pollution because people can use electricity instead of burning fuel for things like heat/light/cooking. (Yes I know these things often use fuel or natural gas still, but they can be done with electricity, and a lot of developing countries are skipping over a natural gas/etc. phase and straight into renewables.)

Hell, it's safety. I had a friend when I was younger who was from southeast Asia. She was horribly injured when she was a kid because her family only had kerosene oil lamps that had to be manually refilled. If her family had had access to electricity, that never would have happened.

It's infrastructure for heating, air conditioning, and water access. It's so, so many things. It's huge.

[almostwisegalaxy]

Where she sees me

Yeon si-eun x fem reader

The reader has a shy character in this story

..................................................................................

Bus 23, late afternoon. The sky hung heavy and gray, as if the city was holding its breath. Raindrops pounded the metal roof, a crescendo of dull beats. Yeon Si-eun, backpack on, shirt immaculate despite the humidity, stood still—rigid, frozen like a sculpture rain could never erode.

And she was there. For several weeks now. Same stop. Same silence. Y/N. Always sitting in the same spot on the bench, shoulders drawn in, fingers intertwined, staring at an imaginary point ahead to avoid all human presence.

He’d noticed her on the second day. Not because she stood out—she never sought to be seen—but because she had a quiet, constant presence. He’d watched her from the corner of his eye, never too long, never enough to betray interest. But he saw her. Every day. And soon, he began to search for her with his eyes the moment he left school. He hadn’t told anyone.

Except Su-ho. Because Su-ho saw everything.

"You’re scary, man. You look at her like you’re trying to solve an unsolvable equation."

Yeon Si-eun hadn’t answered. Because he didn’t have the words. Because Y/N escaped him. Like a recurring dream whose meaning always slipped away. He just knew she worked. Every evening, without exception. She always looked exhausted, like fatigue was stitched into her skin. She never carried a backpack. Never any sign of school. She lived a different reality.

That day, the rain fell harder. Passersby ran, umbrellas open like shields. But not Si-eun. He stood there, unmoving. He hadn’t brought an umbrella. He hadn’t expected the downpour. He could have run to the bus. But he stayed. Near her. As always.

Then she stood up. Slowly. Walked over. He didn’t move. And she raised her umbrella over his head. No words. Just that gesture. Then she handed him the umbrella. He wanted to speak, to refuse, but she had already slipped it into his hand. Then she walked off, soaked, leaving behind a deafening silence.

Su-ho had seen everything, of course.

"Tell me that’s not love. The guy’s on the verge of a stroke over an umbrella."

He had laughed. Loud. And Si-eun had looked away, slightly blushing, unable to respond. Because something had shifted inside him that day. Not a lightning strike. Not a tidal wave. More like a slow crack in his wall of control. He had never felt this. That soft burn. That need to understand her. To get close.

But he still hadn’t spoken to Y/N.

Days passed. He kept the umbrella in his locker, like a talisman. And he kept watching her, endlessly. Same bench, same weariness on her face. He imagined her days. Work. Exhaustion. She hadn’t chosen an easy path. And him? He fought in alleys and rooftops, armed with pens. He felt dirty. Unworthy of her.

"You know, you don’t need to recite her a poem. Just sit next to her."

That was Su-ho’s plan.

In the bus, as crowded as every evening, Su-ho suddenly stood up with suspicious speed, giving his seat to Si-eun—right next to Y/N. No warning.

Si-eun froze. Literally. Back stiff. Ears red. Y/N glanced up, surprised, but said nothing. Silence settled over them like a lead weight. Su-ho, two seats over, was watching with a wide, mischievous grin.

"Don’t sit there like a robot! Relax your shoulders, man!"

Y/N turned her head slightly. Si-eun tried to sit up straighter. Failed. He caught her gaze for a fraction of a second before jerking his head so fast he banged it against the window. Su-ho burst out laughing.

"Did you see that?! He’s gonna give himself a concussion just to avoid eye contact!"

Y/N had smiled faintly. And Si-eun felt swallowed whole by that smile. He wanted to say something. But the words were still trapped.

In the following days, he sat more naturally. Always next to her. One day, he pulled out a small handkerchief and handed it to her when she sneezed. She took it, almost surprised. Then she said:

"Thank you."

A soft voice, tired. But it was the first time he heard her.

And the silences grew denser, more charged. As if they held all the words they couldn’t say.

Then came the fight. Violent. Si-eun’s face was bloody, clothes torn, knuckles burning. He hadn’t seen her coming onto the bus. He climbed on without thinking, eyes blank. Passengers avoided him like an open wound.

But not her.

She got on too.

He wanted to get up, to flee, to hide. But she sat beside him. And without a word, she pulled out a tissue and gently wiped the blood from his cheek. He closed his eyes, unable to breathe. He wanted to cry. Scream. He felt ashamed, miserable. But she didn’t run. She was there.

And that’s when he understood. This wasn’t an obsession. It wasn’t fascination. It was love. Raw. Intense. Silent, but vast. Something beyond him, draining all strategy, all planning.

That day, he said:

"You shouldn’t see me like this."

She simply replied:

"But... I see you."

And that was enough.

Later, he told Su-ho about the scene, omitting the most tender details. But Su-ho understood.

"You’re done for, man."

And he was right. Because from that moment on, Y/N was in every heartbeat. In every fight plan. In every silence of his day. She wasn’t just the girl at the bus stop anymore. She had become his peace. His fixed point in the chaos.

And even if he kept fighting. Even if he bled. He knew that, somewhere, Y/N saw him. And as long as she stayed, he’d hold on.

He’d hold on for her.

And for the first time, Yeon Si-eun wanted a future. Even a blurry, uncertain one. As long as it had Y/N in it.

..................................................................................

[horchatakoo]

BENEATH HIM | JUNGKOOK FF

Description: As an eclipse omega at the bottom of the hierarchy, you find yourself entangled with a pure-blood alpha.

Themes: yandere bully jungkook, pure blood alpha jungkook, omega reader, obsession.

Part 2

In this world, a strict hierarchy exists—an unshakable order where strength determines worth. At the top stand the Alphas, the unrivaled leaders of the pack, with Pure Blood Alphas reigning as the rarest and most powerful of them all.

Beneath them are the Betas, the steady backbone of society, neither dominant nor submissive but essential in maintaining balance.

And at the very bottom lie the Omegas, submissive by nature, their purpose bound to serving their mates.

But there is one rank even lower—one so rare and reviled that even Omegas look down upon them.

The Eclipse Omegas.

Born under a solar eclipse, they are weaker than their ordinary counterparts. Their bodies are fragile, their pain tolerance minimal, and worst of all, their pheromones are faint—almost nonexistent. Unlike normal Omegas, whose scents draw Alphas in instinctively, Eclipse Omegas are undesirable, often ignored, overlooked, or outright ridiculed.

Thankfully, births of Eclipse Omegas are rare.

But unfortunately for you, you happen to be one of them…

Life as an Eclipse Omega is anything but easy. Discrimination follows you like a shadow, relentless and inescapable. Even the other Omegas, the ones who should be your allies, look down on you with contempt—as if your mere existence is an embarrassment to their kind.

School is a daily struggle, each day more unbearable than the last. There are mornings when you don’t even want to get out of bed, when the thought of facing another day filled with whispers, glares, and quiet humiliation makes your stomach twist. If not for your ever-loving parents, who refuse to let you give up, you might have walked away from it all.

To them, being an Eclipse Omega is already a disadvantage—but being uneducated would be even worse. And they refuse to let that happen.

You keep your head down as you walk through the crowded school hallway, clutching your books tightly to your chest. The weight of the stares pressing against you is suffocating, but you’ve learned to endure it.

Ignore them. Keep walking. Don’t react.

But it never works.

A sudden force slams against your shoulder, sending you stumbling forward. Laughter erupts behind you.

"Oops, didn’t see you there," a sickly sweet voice sneers.

You don’t need to turn around to know who it is—Mina, the most sought-after Omega on campus. With soft golden curls and a scent so intoxicating that Alphas instinctively turn their heads, she embodies everything an Omega is meant to be.

Desirable. Delicate. Wanted.

Everything you are not—and never will be.

Where Mina is radiant, you are plain. Where she is delicate, you are weak—so much so that you might as well be human with how faint your scent is. You are an anomaly, a mistake in the natural order.

And if that wasn’t humiliating enough, there’s one more thing that sets you apart.

You’re already twenty, yet you’ve never had your first heat.

“Forget it Mina, talking to a defective is not worth it” one of Mina’s friends said, making her group, as well as the others who witnessed it laugh at you.

This is already a common interaction you’ve had with every student here, yet you’ve never gotten used to it.

"Pathetic," Mina scoffs. Then, she opened your bags and made it upside down, making all of your belongings scattered across the floor before she left with her group.

The hallway erupts with more laughter

Your heart clenches, shame burning at your skin as you drop to your knees to gather your things. No one helps. No one ever does.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to not cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

After the humiliating encounter in the hallway, you barely made it to your first class—Biology—just in time. Heart pounding, you slipped through the door just as the teacher started calling attendance.

"Min Y/N?"

"Present!" you blurted out, raising your hand quickly to make sure she noticed before rushing to your seat.

Relief barely settled in your chest before it was ripped away the moment you sat down.

A cold, sticky sensation spread across your thighs.

Your breath hitched as realization dawned. Hesitantly, you lifted yourself slightly and looked down—your skirt was covered in slime.

Laughter erupted behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who was behind it.

But you did anyway.

And there he was—Jeon Jungkook.

A Pure Blood Alpha. The son of the pack leader. The worst person you could possibly cross.

He leaned back in his chair, arms lazily crossed over his broad chest, an infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

"What?" he taunted, tilting his head mockingly. "You gonna run to the teacher? Go ahead. See what happens."

The challenge in his voice sent a chill down your spine. You couldn’t fight back. You couldn’t even report him—everyone knew that. Not even the teacher would dare stand against him.

Because messing with Jungkook was no different than signing your own death sentence.

Overwhelmed by everything that had happened—from the hallway to now—a single tear slipped down your cheek before you hurriedly wiped it away.

Jungkook’s grin only widened, satisfaction gleaming in his dark eyes. Making you cry at the start of the week? Perfect.

You scanned the room, desperately looking for an empty seat. There were none.

Not that it mattered. Even if there was a vacant spot, no one would let you sit with them anyway.

For a fleeting moment, you considered excusing yourself—going to the bathroom to wipe off the disgusting slime clinging to your skirt. But you knew better.

Your teacher was just like them.

She was strict—especially with you. If you asked to leave, she’d only scold you for “causing a scene” or “disrupting the lesson.” So, you did the only thing you could.

You stayed silent.

Turning your gaze forward, you clenched your fists and swallowed back the lump in your throat, your silent sobs barely contained as the cold slime seeped into your skin.

Behind you, Jungkook leaned forward, voice dripping with mockery.

"That’s right. Stay silent, you pathetic lowlife."

Then—a sharp jolt.

Jungkook kicked the back of your chair. Not hard enough to draw attention, just enough to make you jolt in place. Enough to remind you of exactly where you stand.

Laughter erupted behind you.

With a smirk, Jungkook turned to Taehyung, raising his hand for a victorious high five.

And just like that, your misery became nothing more than entertainment.

You could say Jungkook was the worst of all your bullies.

There wasn’t a single day he missed the chance to humiliate you.

Sometimes, it was just cruel words—sharp, biting insults meant to remind you of how unwanted you were. Other times, it was much worse.

He’d dump your lunch on your clothes, leaving you to sit through the rest of the day smelling like food. He’d mess with your schoolwork, ensuring the teacher found a reason to scold you. And when he was feeling particularly cruel?

He’d steal your money.

Not because he needed it—he didn’t.

Jungkook was already filthy rich, his family’s wealth ensuring he never lacked anything. But taking from you? Watching you struggle through the day without food, knowing you had no one to turn to?

That was what made it fun for him.

And if that wasn’t enough, he and Taehyung made sure your social life was just as miserable.

They spread rumors—lies—telling everyone that you secretly hated Mina, that you were jealous of her.

The result?

Mina was furious.

And the other omegas? They already looked down on you—now, they had an excuse to hate and beat you even more.

To them, you weren’t just weak. You were pathetic. A joke.

And for Jungkook, making your life miserable has become a hobby.

"I'm home!" you called out the moment you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you. At least here, you could finally find peace.

Your mom appeared from the kitchen, holding a steaming pot before setting it on the dining table.

"Oh, honey! I'm glad you're home," she greeted with a warm smile as you walked toward her.

But her eyes quickly landed on the damp patch on your skirt.

"What happened to your skirt?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

You tensed. Of course, she noticed.

"Uh… nothing, Mom. I slipped on a wet floor," you lied, grateful that you'd managed to scrub off the sticky slime after Biology class—though it left an embarrassing damp spot behind.

"Silly! You need to be more careful," she chided playfully.

"Yeah, I will, Mom," you muttered before heading up the stairs, eager to lock yourself away in your room.

But just as you reached the first step, her next words froze you in place.

"Oh, by the way," she started, "a friend of yours—Mina, I think?—came by earlier. You didn’t tell me you had prom this Friday!"

Your stomach dropped.

The prom.

Your teacher had announced it earlier, but you’d barely paid attention—already deciding you wouldn't go.

"I'm so happy you're making friends now, sweetheart!" she gushed.

If only she knew.

Mina wasn’t a friend. She was a nightmare.

But telling your mom the truth would only make her worry even more.

"She’s not a friend, Mom," you mumbled. "She’s just… a classmate."

Your mom hummed in understanding before beaming at you.

"Well, either way, I’ll make sure you look fantastic for prom!"

You forced a small smile, but your thoughts were racing.

“Great. Now I have to go to a party I never wanted to attend.”

And knowing Mina? She wasn’t inviting you for no reason.

They were planning something.

And whatever it was… it wouldn’t be good.

Tuesday came faster than you expected… and you knew it by the annoying blare of your alarm clock.

The bright red numbers on the screen flashed: 8:30 AM.

Your heart dropped.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, panic immediately setting in.

Your alarm was supposed to go off thirty minutes ago.

Without wasting another second, you practically threw yourself out of bed, rushing straight into the bathroom. No time to think.

You flicked the shower on, shivering as the cold water hit your skin, but you didn’t have the luxury to wait for it to warm up. You scrubbed yourself down hastily—shampoo barely rinsed out, soap barely lathered—before hopping out and wrapping a towel around your body.

Dashing back into your room, you yanked open your closet, grabbing the first uniform you could find. It was slightly wrinkled, but you didn’t have time to care.

You struggled to button up your blouse with trembling fingers, your heart pounding against your ribs. You slipped on your skirt, tugged on your socks, and shoved your feet into your shoes.

You didn’t have the time to blow-dry your hair as you bolted out of your bedroom, nearly slipping on the polished floor in your haste.

Your mom looked up from the kitchen, a spatula in hand, while your dad sat at the dining table, casually sipping his usual coffee.

“Breakfast is ready, sweetheart! Come eat before you go—”

“I’ll just buy something at the cafeteria, Mom! Bye, Dad!” you shouted over your shoulder, already halfway out the door.

Your mom barely had time to respond before you were gone.

“Honey, don’t you think our daughter is acting a bit… off today?”

“Hmm? She’s just going to be late for school,” your dad replies, nonchalant over his morning coffee.

“I don’t know… something just feels off. I guess it’s just my mother instincts,” your mom murmurs, worry lacing her tone.

And hell your mom was right!

Later that day, you step into the school hallway, your mind still clouded from the morning’s rush. That’s when it hits you—a sudden wave of heat crawling over your skin, your head throbbing as if caught in a fever. A shiver runs down your spine, yet your body only feels hotter, heavier.

You pause, glancing around in confusion, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar sensation. Maybe it’s just exhaustion, you reason. Maybe the air is stuffy. But the hallway is nearly empty, most students already in class. There’s no crowd, no heat lingering from too many bodies packed together—just you and this unbearable warmth seeping into your bones.

Shaking it off, you force your legs to move forward, determined to push through whatever this is. But just as you round a corner, your stomach sinks.

Jungkook.

He’s walking straight toward you, his presence dominating the space with effortless arrogance. Instinct takes over before logic can, and you immediately turn down the nearest aisle, hoping to slip past unnoticed. You don’t have the strength to deal with him today—not with your body betraying you like this.

But luck has never been on your side.

Jungkook’s sharp eyes catch you in an instant, and his lips curl into a knowing smirk. His steps slow, his amusement growing. He’s seen you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

After all, making your life miserable is his favorite pastime.

You keep your head down, willing yourself to disappear as you quicken your pace, but it’s useless.

A firm hand grips your wrist, yanking you back with just enough force to make you stumble. Before you can react, you find yourself pinned against the cold wall of the empty hallway, Jungkook towering over you with that ever-present smugness in his dark eyes.

“Running away from me now, Eclipse?” His voice drips with amusement, the nickname he gave you laced with condescension. “Didn’t even give me a chance to have my fun today.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep yourself steady, but the dizziness crashes into you all at once. The warmth inside you intensifies, a strange pulsing heat spreading through your limbs, making your breathing turn shallow and uneven.

Jungkook’s smirk falters for a split second as he takes in your appearance—your pupils blown wide, with your eyes having that golden glow, chest rising and falling far too quickly, hands trembling at your sides.

Instinctively, he leans in slightly, inhaling.

And that’s when it happens.

His entire body stiffens.

Jungkook's entire body tenses, his grip unconsciously tightening on your arms as the realization crashes over him like a tidal wave.

No.

No, this can’t be happening.

His mate? You?

He lets out a shaky breath, trying to shake off the pull, but the golden glow in your eyes only confirms what his instincts are already screaming at him. His mate. The one person he’s supposed to cherish, protect—not torment.

And yet, here you are, trembling in front of him, vulnerable, struggling to even stand as your first heat crashes down on you like a storm.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, not out of anger, but something else—something he doesn’t want to name.

He watches as you bite your lip, your breathing uneven, your scent making his own body react in ways he never expected. His fingers twitch again, fighting the urge to do something stupid.

You look up at him, dazed and confused, searching his face for answers, for anything that will make sense of the unbearable heat consuming you.

But all Jungkook can think about is the way he’s spent every day making your life hell.

And now the universe has tied you to him?

He forces himself to step back, releasing you like you just burned him, even though every fiber of his being screams at him to hold on.

“Shit,” he breathes out, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t happening.”

But it is.

And the worst part?

You don’t even realize it yet.

"I... i can't breath" you muttered to him before your vision turned to black as you fainted.

his arms.

“Shit—”

Instinct kicks in before logic can. His arms move on their own, catching you before you hit the cold floor. Your scent—his mate’s scent—surrounds him, messing with his head, making it harder to think. His heartbeat pounds in his ears as he looks down at you, unconscious, your face flushed, lips parted as you struggle to breathe even in your unconscious state.

“Damn it,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. The moment your body pressed against his, a low growl rumbled in his chest, the bond already working its way into his instincts, even though he hasn’t marked you yet.

He swallows hard, pushing down the sudden wave of possessiveness that creeps up his spine.

He needs to get you out of here—now.

The last thing he needs is some other Alpha catching a whiff of your scent.

A soft hum of an air conditioner fills the silence as you stir awake, your body feeling both light and heavy at the same time. Your eyelids flutter open, adjusting to the dimly lit room. The scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, and the sterile white walls make it clear—you’re in some kind of medical office.

Before you can even sit up or ask where you are, a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“You passed out.”

Jungkook’s tone is flat, emotionless, as if he’s simply stating a fact. He’s standing near the wall, arms crossed, his usual cocky expression nowhere to be seen.

“You had a sudden drop in blood pressure, which caused you to faint,” the doctor explains calmly. “It’s nothing too serious, but your body is undergoing some changes, which is why you felt weak. I’ve prescribed you some medication to help regulate it.”

The doctors’s voice is steady, professional—but something about it feels… off. Like he’s withholding something. Like he’s deliberately choosing his words.

You don’t think too hard about it, too drained to question anything as he hands you a small white prescription bag. You glance at it, assuming it’s for something like a cold or exhaustion.

What you don’t know is that it’s all a lie.

Jungkook made sure of it.

The so-called "medication" in your hands isn't for blood pressure or general weakness—it’s a suppressant. Because your symptoms weren’t just random. You weren’t just lightheaded or exhausted.

You were going into heat.

And Jungkook knew. The moment your scent wrapped around him like a vice, the moment his body reacted in ways he refused to acknowledge—he knew exactly what was happening.

And he couldn’t let you find out.

Not now.

Not when the reality of what you were to him—the truth he wasn’t ready to face—would change everything.

You, oblivious to all of this, sigh softly.

“I… Can I go home now?” you ask hesitantly, still feeling slightly out of it.

The doctor nods. “Yes, but make sure to take those meds as instructed and get plenty of rest.”

You slowly slide off the examination table, still feeling a little unsteady on your feet. Just as you reach for your bag, Jungkook speaks again.

“I’ll drive you.”

His voice is cold, detached, like he’s doing this out of obligation rather than concern.

You freeze, glancing at him. His expression remains unreadable, his jaw clenched, as if he’s barely tolerating this situation.

Something about his demeanor feels… different. Not like the usual arrogant Jungkook who lived to make your life miserable. But still, you hesitate.

“I can take the bus,” you mutter, not wanting to owe him anything.

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change. “I wasn’t asking.”

There’s an edge to his tone, not quite threatening, but firm enough that you know arguing is useless.

With a sigh, you give in.

Maybe it’s better this way. The sooner you get home, the sooner you can pretend none of this ever happened.

The car ride is painfully silent. The only sound between you and Jungkook is the hum of the engine and the occasional turn signal clicking. You keep your gaze locked outside the window, watching the familiar streets pass by, trying to focus on anything but the suffocating presence beside you.

When the car finally pulls up in front of your house, you swallow down your hesitation and glance at him. Your fingers tighten around the prescription bag in your lap.

“…Thanks,” you murmur, the word feeling foreign when directed at him.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you. He simply hums in response, a low, almost dismissive sound, before adding, “Take care.”

The words are spoken casually, but something about them catches you off guard. Maybe it’s because you never expected to hear them from him. Maybe it’s because his voice, even in its usual indifferent tone, carries a hint of something unfamiliar.

Either way, you feel warmth crawl up your neck, and to your absolute horror, you realize you’re blushing.

You clear your throat, quickly undoing your seatbelt before pushing the door open. Without another glance back, you step out, clutching the prescription bag tightly as you walk up to your house.

The moment you step inside, the familiar scent of home washes over you, comforting in its normalcy. You slip off your shoes and call out,

“I’m home!”

Your mom peeks out from the kitchen, a warm smile on her face. “Oh, sweetheart! You’re home early.”

Your dad, sitting on the couch with his newspaper, glances up. “Rough day?”

You sigh, nodding. “Yeah, I just wanna rest.”

Your mom frowns slightly but nods in understanding. “Alright, go ahead and take a nap. I’ll call you for dinner.”

You mumble a quiet thanks before heading upstairs to your room, finally letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The events of the day weigh heavily on you, especially with the thought of how you hurriedly dash out of your house in the morning, to go to class, and end up not attending any of it. But exhaustion wins out, and you collapse onto your bed.

Meanwhile, downstairs, your parents continue their conversation—until your mom suddenly sniffs the air.

“…Do you smell that?” she asks, her nose scrunching slightly.

Your dad lowers his newspaper, sniffing as well. His brows furrow. “Yeah… that’s not her usual scent.”

Your mom gasps, suddenly lighting up like a teenage girl hearing gossip. “Oh my god! It smells like an Alpha!” she squeals, fanning herself dramatically. “Do you think—? No way! Our baby girl met an Alpha?!”

Your dad groans, shaking his head. “Don’t start.”

But your mom is already giggling, clasping her hands together. “This is huge! What if it’s her mate? What if she’s finally found the one?!”

Your dad sighs. “Or maybe she just bumped into someone.”

But your mom isn’t listening. She’s too busy spinning scenarios in her head, imagining wedding bells and grandchildren, while your dad pinches the bridge of his nose, knowing there’s no stopping her now.

The next day at school, everything feels… normal.

Almost too normal.

No pranks. No teasing. No Jungkook tripping you as you walk past his desk in Biology.

At first, you think it’s some kind of elaborate trick. Maybe he’s setting up something worse. Maybe he’s just waiting for you to lower your guard. But as the days pass, the torment never comes. He barely even acknowledges you in class—just sits there, staring at his notes, acting as if you don’t exist.

You should feel relieved. You do—mostly. But something about it feels off.

Then there’s the other thing.

It started two days ago, on a completely normal lunch break. You had just grabbed your tray from the cafeteria when your phone vibrated with an unknown number. At first, you thought it was a spam call, but when you answered, a familiar voice grumbled on the other end.

“Rooftop. Now.”

That was it. No explanation. No name. But you knew who it was.

And for some insane reason, you actually went.

You sighed as you stood on the rooftop, arms crossed, watching Jungkook lean against the railing like he had nothing better to do. With you still not having any clue as to why you’re here.

He wasn’t teasing you.

He wasn’t bullying you.

Hell, he wasn’t even talking.

Just standing there. Existing. Being annoying with his broad shoulders and his stupidly toned back that—

You blinked.

Nope. Absolutely not.

You weren’t going to admire Jungkook’s back. You weren’t going to notice how perfect the fit of his uniform was on him or how the slight breeze tousled his hair in a way that would make anyone swoon.

He’s a menace.

A tormentor.

He made your life hell for years!

You shook your head, forcing the thought out of your mind before you accidentally spiraled into something worse.

“Are you gonna stand there and sulk all day?” Jungkook suddenly muttered without even looking at you.

Your brows furrowed. “What the hell do you even want, Jungkook?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours. It was so quick, so subtle that you didn’t even think twice about it.

Just like every other day.

What you didn’t know was that he had done it on purpose.

Every time he stood near you, every time he subtly brushed past you, every time he casually leaned against you like it was nothing…

He was scenting you.

Carefully. Subtly. Just enough so that no other Alpha would catch onto the fact that your scent was unclaimed and vulnerable.

You didn’t notice, but he did.

Every. Single. Time.

And that he hated himself for it.

Because no matter how much he wanted to ignore it, to fight against it—

You were his mate.

And the need to scent you was driving him insane, when he can just easily claim what’s his.

“You’re coming to prom tomorrow?” Jungkook asked casually before turning to leave, his question so abrupt that it caught you off guard.

“Uh… yeah. My mom got me a dress,” you replied hesitantly, still processing why he even cared.

“Okay.” His response was short, almost indifferent, yet it only left you more confused.

The venue was already bustling with life by the time you arrived. Laughter, music, and the soft clinking of glasses filled the air, yet you remained on the outskirts, lingering near the corner of the grand ballroom. You didn’t exactly have anyone to talk to, so instead, you busied yourself watching the swirling figures of your classmates, lost in their own world of glittering dresses and expensive colognes.

Your light blue gown cascaded elegantly to the floor, its soft chiffon layers swaying with every step. The bodice hugged your form, adorned with delicate silver embroidery that shimmered under the dim, golden lights. The off-shoulder sleeves draped gracefully over your arms, giving you an air of effortless elegance. Your hair was styled in soft waves, half of it pinned back with a silver clip, leaving just enough to frame your face.

Despite looking the part of someone who belonged here, you felt completely out of place.

You sighed, shifting your weight from one foot to another. If anything, at least Jungkook talked to you, even if it was annoying. Unconsciously, your gaze drifted across the room, searching for him among the crowd. It was stupid—you knew that—but something about his presence, no matter how frustrating, was familiar.

But no matter where you looked, you couldn’t find him.

Minutes passed, and the suffocating atmosphere of the venue started to weigh on you. The overly sweet scent of perfumes mixed with the heat of too many bodies pressed together made your head feel heavy. Bored and restless, you quietly slipped past the grand doors and out into the cool night air.

The contrast was instant.

A crisp breeze kissed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you stepped onto the empty balcony. The muffled sound of music and laughter echoed from inside, but out here, it was peaceful. You leaned against the railing, inhaling deeply as you let the fresh air clear your mind.

At least out here, you could finally breathe.

Just as you were beginning to relax, a sharp whistle cut through the quiet night air.

Your body stiffened. Slowly, you turned your head toward the source of the sound, your heart already pounding.

A group of five guys—three Alphas and two Betas—stood a few feet away, their eyes locked on you like a pack of wolves finding easy prey. The way they leered at you made your stomach twist.

“Well, well, look what we have here,” one of the Alphas sneered, stepping forward. His smirk was sharp, predatory. “An Eclipse Omega, all alone in the dark.”

Your breath hitched.

Another Alpha laughed, shaking his head. “Didn’t think we’d see one of your kind out in the open. You must be real desperate for attention, huh?”

“I—I was just leaving,” you muttered, forcing yourself to stand your ground, even as your knees threatened to buckle.

One of the Betas scoffed. “Leaving? Aww, come on, don’t be like that. No one even wants an Eclipse Omega, right? You should be grateful we’re giving you the time of day.”

You felt like you’d been slapped.

Alphas always went for normal Omegas. Eclipse Omegas like you were considered… defective. Your scent was weaker, your heats unpredictable—most Alphas found you undesirable. You had heard the whispers before, the cruel remarks. But hearing it now, from them, in this situation…

Another Alpha leaned in slightly, eyes dark with amusement. “But hey, you’ve got a pussy just like every other Omega, don’t you?” He grinned. “Maybe you should take what you can get.”

Laughter erupted from the group, and bile rose in your throat.

The air around you suddenly felt suffocating, like their presence alone was pressing down on you, caging you in.

“Tell you what,” the first Alpha said, rubbing his chin like he was pretending to think. “How about we make this fun?”

His smirk widened.

“We’ll give you a head start. Five minutes. You run as fast as you can into the woods,” he gestured toward the dark tree line at the edge of the school grounds, “and if we catch you…” He trailed off, letting the silence stretch.

Your breath came out shaky, fear coursing through your veins like fire.

Run.

That was all your mind could process.

Without another word, you turned and bolted, the sound of their laughter ringing in your ears as you stumbled off the balcony and onto the grass.

Tears blurred your vision as you sprinted toward the forest, your heels sinking into the dirt, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

You didn’t dare look back.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the men’s sinister laughter echoed behind you, each step they took sending a fresh wave of terror through your body. You knew they were close—too close—and that no matter how fast you ran, they were faster. Stronger.

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs as you pushed your legs to move faster, desperation clawing at your throat. But in your blind panic, you didn’t see the tree branch lying in your path.

Your foot caught on it.

A strangled gasp left your lips as you stumbled forward, gravity yanking you down. The world tilted, and before you could catch yourself, you crashed onto the cold, unforgiving forest floor, the impact knocking the air out of your lungs. Dirt and leaves clung to your dress as you scrambled to push yourself up, your hands shaking violently.

Behind you, the laughter grew louder, closer.

"Aw, poor thing fell," one of them taunted, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Guess she really is useless. Eclipse Omegas are weak little things, aren’t they?" another sneered.

Your entire body was trembling now, heart hammering so hard it hurt. You tried to crawl forward, to get up and run again, but footsteps crunched against the leaves behind you—too close.

"Game over," one of them chuckled darkly, as one of the men grabbed your jaw tightly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for whatever was coming,

A deep, guttural growl ripped through the air, so feral and vicious that the laughter behind you died instantly. The atmosphere changed, thick with something heavy, something dangerous.

Your eyes snapped open.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

His stance was rigid, his breathing controlled, but his eyes had already turned pitch black, a sign that he’s already about to turn in his wolf form at any moment .

“Shit…” one of the Betas muttered under his breath.

“Jungkook?” Another scoffed, but you could hear the slight tremor in his voice. “Didn’t think the golden boy would show up.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened. “Didn’t think I’d have to deal with bottom-feeders like you tonight.”

One of the Alphas snarled, stepping forward. “Back off, Jeon. This doesn’t concern you.”

Jungkook tilted his head, the corner of his lip twitching into something almost amused—but there was nothing funny about the way his gaze burned into them.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said casually. “You made it my problem the moment you touched what’s mine.”

His words sent a ripple through you, but you barely had time to react. The men did.

The first Alpha lunged without warning, his body shifting mid-air, bones cracking as he transformed into a massive wolf. The others followed instantly, launching toward Jungkook with snarls ripping through their throats.

But Jungkook didn’t shift.

He didn’t need to.

Jungkook moved faster than your eyes could track. One second, the first Alpha was mid-leap, claws bared, fangs ready to sink into flesh. The next, a sickening crack echoed through the trees.

Jungkook had grabbed the Alpha mid-air, twisting its head with an unnatural force—ripping it clean from its shoulders.

Blood sprayed across the forest floor, the head rolling away, its expression frozen in shock. The lifeless body slumped to the ground with a heavy thud.

The other Alpha skidded to a stop, horror flashing in his eyes. He turned, trying to shift back, trying to run—

But Jungkook was faster.

With a single step forward, he drove his fist straight through the wolf’s chest, gripping onto his spine from the inside. A strangled howl left the creature’s throat before Jungkook yanked his arm back—spine and all.

The body collapsed instantly, blood pooling beneath it, the scent of death overpowering the air.

The moment the two Alphas fell lifeless to the ground, the remaining three turned on their heels, desperate to escape.

But they had no chance.

Jungkook was already moving before they could even shift.

With terrifying speed, he closed the distance between them, his hands striking like death itself.

The first Beta barely had time to scream before Jungkook’s claws sliced clean across his throat. Blood gushed out in a gruesome arc, his body falling limp before it even registered what had happened.

The second tried to shift mid-run, fur sprouting along his arms—

But Jungkook grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat. In one swift motion, his claws tore through flesh, severing arteries and muscle like paper.

shaking.

“P-please…” he whimpered, tears streaking down his face. “I—I didn’t even touch her—”

Jungkook didn’t care.

With a single swipe, he slit his throat wide open, the Beta’s final gurgle lost in the choking flood of his own blood.

And then—silence.

Jungkook stood among the bodies, his chest rising and falling steadily, crimson staining his skin, his suit ruined.

He turned to you.

Your breath hitched, your entire body frozen in place.

Jungkook had just massacred five men in a matter of seconds.

And yet—there wasn’t a single ounce of remorse in his expression.

Only possession.

Like he had simply taken out the trash.

Jungkook’s head tilted slightly, his gaze locking onto yours.

And then, in an instant, his entire demeanor shifted.

Gone was the ruthless killer who had just torn five men apart like they were nothing.

Now, his eyes—wide, frantic, almost wild—were scanning you in pure panic.

“Fuck, fuck—” His voice trembled as he rushed forward, his hands hovering over your arms, your waist, your face—like he didn’t know where to start, where to check first.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice cracked, his fingers finally landing on your wrists, clutching them tightly but gently, as if you would break. His breathing was erratic, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Tell me, please—are you okay? Did they—”

His eyes darted all over your body, searching for bruises, for scratches, for any sign that they had touched what was his.

You just stood there, frozen, unable to process the sudden shift in him.

And then—

Jungkook’s breath hitched.

Tears welled in his eyes as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, his entire body shaking.

“I was almost too late,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I—” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his hands gripping you tighter, as if he was afraid you’d disappear. “I almost lost you.”

And before you could even react, he leaned in.

His lips landed on your temple, pressing a desperate kiss. Then another—on your cheek, your forehead, the corner of your mouth—his lips trailing down to your jaw, your neck.

A shiver ran down your spine.

He was shaking.

Kissing you like you were the most fragile thing in the world, like he was trying to reassure himself that you were still here, still breathing, still his.

Still his.

The realization hit you like a truck.

Your breath caught in your throat as your mind finally connected the dots, the way he had been acting, the way he had been calling you to the rooftop, the way his scent lingered on you—

You gasped softly.

“…My mate.”

Jungkook’s lips stilled against your neck, his body tensing.

And when he pulled back, his red-rimmed eyes met yours.

He had been trying to fight it.

Deny it.

But he couldn’t anymore.

Because you knew.

And there was no going back.

Then, suddenly—

A sharp, searing heat bloomed in your stomach.

Your body trembled, your knees nearly giving out as a whimper slipped past your lips. The suppressant—whatever the doctor had given you—was failing.

Jungkook’s proximity, his touch, the way his scent completely engulfed you—it was too much.

You gasped, gripping onto his shoulders, your entire body burning from the inside out.

Jungkook inhaled sharply.

His entire frame shuddered as the same realization dawned on him— his suppressant was failing too.

His heat.

His own scent grew impossibly strong, thick with need, with instinct. His hands clenched around you, muscles tensing as if trying to fight against the overwhelming pull.

But it was futile.

Your body arched against his, heat pooling deep in your core as the ache became unbearable.

A growl rumbled from his chest, low and guttural. His arms wrapped around you, caging you in, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Fuck," he rasped, voice strained. "I— I can't—"

Another whimper escaped you, your mind hazy, instincts screaming for relief, for him.

Jungkook's breath was hot against your neck. His hands tightened on your hips as his lips parted, revealing sharp canines.

"Mine," he growled.

Then—

A sharp sting.

His teeth sank into your skin, marking you.

And in that moment—

You were his.

Forever.

[timmydraker]

Tim hates Damian, but not for the reasons people think.

It did start as him thinking of Damian as rude, violent and unworthy of something as bright and joyful as the mantle of Robin. Tim might be better than most rich folk can be, but he’s still human and was very clearly ignorant of Damian’s lifestyle and culture, and I don’t just mean being an Assassin.

There’s no arguing against the arrogant way he sometimes talks about Damian and the League even if later adaptations are lighter with it, and the only reason it’s not a big thing is that he actually learns and pulls his head out.

Tim is an asshole but he’s not stupid, he’ll learn even when he doesn’t want to, it just takes some time.

But once he started to try and see Damian differently, around the time the younger Robin started to grow more into his role and adapt to the American world, Tim was confronted by something that make him almost insecure.

Because while Tim had to overcome some of his faults, Damian did something so mind numbingly difficult.

He overcame his entire childhood and taught nature.

Tim once used Damian’s blatant disregard for victims comfort as a reason he shouldn’t be Robin, and now as Damian is becoming an adult he’s going out of his way to learn how to help people and not shut save them.

Tim would often point out how Damian never trusted anyone no matter how much proof they gave to earn it, only really putting full faith in Dick and Bruce, but then he’s putting himself I situations that make him squirm just to give people a chance. But then it’s Tim who has the most contingency plans because he firmly believes even your most trusted allies can betray you.

Tim hated how Damian was so arrogant and self centred and then he’s catching himself lying to partners just because he doesn’t think he did anything wrong even though they are clearly upset.

Tim had to work against his own body to be able to fight, changing his untrained body into a tool to be used, but Damian didn’t have to do that because his body was ready to fight from the moment he was made.

Damian grows, he becomes someone dangerous and threatening but someone equally as kind and compassionate, strange ways of showing it be damned. Damian wants to be a doctor, wants to help people o ur side of the suit, which just doesn’t make sense because Tim said at the start that all Damian will ever be is violence and cruelty and yet-

Tim is admittedly jealous.

He wants to say he’s someone great and strong, and he is really, but Damian…

Damian is more of a Robin than Tim.

They both still did good, great things and Tim will always be a good Robin, it’s just that Damian has done so much more in regards to himself. He’s grown and changed and went from being someone Tim saw as just bad to someone more patient and willing to do the hard work big for the good and it just doesn’t make sense because Tim-

Tim has become bitter and angry and every internal monologue he has is filled with venomous words and irritation. He’s making plans he claims he won’t act on, but who thinks up so many ways to permanently stop someone with violent, unethical and just inhumane means without batting an eye?

Tim isn’t hesitating when making ‘world had ended’ plans, when making last ditch plans that involve killing people and he’s stop pulling punches with certain groups because they come back to life anyway so who cares if they die in a fight?

And it’s so ironic, because for a time when he was first introduced to the family, Damian saw Tim as the goal. It was Tim who was most trusted by Batman, who was allied with pretty much every hero team, who was given free reign and his own cases, and it was Tim who his mother warned him would be in his way of Robin.

But Damian stopped being so eager to replace and started to want to be his own person. His own Robin and eventually, his own everything entirely.

And now it’s Tim who is being told to calm down, to stand down, to not be so defensive.

It’s Damian whose defying Bruce now, whose moving on from Robin and spreading a whole new pair of wings when even Tim can’t let go be cause he has to do better, right? Because if Damian, cold blooded and aggravating Damian, can become someone else and good then he should be too.

Yet even with good friends and a good rep, he feels like something lesser.

And doesn’t that just suck.

[halalchampagnesocialist]

To understand why Israel keeps targeting UNRWA infrastructure and UNRWA workers (and by extension, human rights activists) aside from the accusations they're ~secretly Hamas~, we must put it into the context of which these organisations operate.

To put it lightly, Israel is not a fan of international NGOs and human rights organisations at all, but especially the ones whose existence revolves around advocating for Palestinian rights and exposing the crimes of the occupation. It is not a fan of Palestinian ones at all either, but that goes without saying. I would even suggest that Israeli organisations like "Breaking the Silence" and "BtSelem" fall under this category, even liberal ~coexistence~ type groups like "Standing Together" are seen with suspicion to a degree as they pose a threat to the status quo. The Israeli state and Zionists also see the work of such organisations as a method of "delegitimising Israel" and "singling out Israel" and so on. There is even a pro-Israel organisation called "NGO Monitor" which exists to combat this exact thing.

In the case of UNRWA, there is a specific criticism made by Israel against them (aside from the secret Hamas operative one), and that is they "indoctrinate" Palestinians to hold onto their right of return by perpetually keeping them refugees. Obviously, it's a silly argument that is not worth entertaining. There are a lot of genuine criticisms to be made about UNRWA (which is largely to do with the NGOisation of the Palestinian struggle but that's another post) but they have helped sustain Palestinian existence and livelihoods by providing aid, employment, education and so on. In times of war and crisis, UNRWA has been providing important aid to Palestinians. It's hard not to see Israel's attack on UNRWA as an attack on that.

Even groups which are headed by Palestinians, both in the diaspora and in Palestine, such as International Solidarity Movement (ISM) or Youth Against Settlements, face constant attacks by settlers and soldiers. The purpose of these groups is to demonstrate civil disobedience and resist the occupation non-violently yet still face violence. Others exist merely to just document.

Israel is also so used to operating with impunity that any organisation shedding light on Israel's atrocities against Palestinians is a blow to their propaganda. All the reports, documentaries, and findings produce evidence that then becomes hard to deny or hide. There is a reason why Israel is currently not letting in any journalists or aid workers into Gaza, and even the ones it is letting in it is targeting as we've seen time and time again over the past year.

The problematic nature of NGOisation and the apoliticisation of the human rights framework aside, many of these organisations have played a role in presenting the case of the Palestinian struggle in front of a world audience. The ability to not just document or advocate but be believed is a privilege Westerners have and that's where these organisations tend to come in. As long as these organisations exist and/or have a reason to be in the West Bank and/or Gaza, then Israel cannot do what it actually wants to i.e. constant settlement building, attempted ethnic cleansing and more importantly, trying to convince the world that Palestinians do not have a justified struggle against the occupation and the allegations against Israel are merely "false."

[sakuravalenp]

A dream land - DP X DC Prompt

Okay, so I was thinking about that episode "Perchance to dream" where Bruce is trapped in a dream world and this, even thought really different, came to my mind.

Danny is king or prince of the infinite realms. He's been working on personalizing/decorating his castle in the infinite realms. When he feels someone walking just outside the castles walls. The thing is, that someone isn't a denizen, they aren't in a corporeal body, but he can feel that they are very much alive and feel distinctly human. He approaches the person to ask why and how they are in the infinite realms, but they fade away before he gets the opportunity.

Clockwork, who was with him at the moment, tells him that the visitor from the living, was just the soul projection of someone that was sleeping, and then refuses to elaborate further. Since it's something that was to do with sleeping, Danny decides to go and ask Nocturn, it seemed like a reasonable assumption that he was the one at fault for the soul projection.

Contrary to what he thought, Nocturn informed Danny that Sleeping soul projection was a natural phenomenon that he didn't control. The land of dreams, ("My domain" - Nocturn reminds him), was in the infinite realm after all, and those who have been close to death sometimes slipped they're whole soul instead of just their mind, and ended up all over the infinite realms.

It isn't too different from a lucid dream for them, the body gets all the benefit of the sleep, the mind feels rested if they had a good time in the realms. Except, if they hurt their soul too bad during their little trip, it would have real consequences. Loosing memories, abilities regression, migraine, pain that reflects the soul damage, all either temporary until the soul healed, or permanent and deteriorating, and in some occasions finishing in the persons death. In the latter, the soul is usually too damaged and cease it's existence, or have enough ectoplasm and emotion to form into ghosts with crack cores whose existence is instantly in danger.

Danny clearly didn't like the image that was painted to him, so he asked Nocturn if there was really nothing that he could do. It took a lot of talking and convincing, but eventually Nocturn admitted he could be able to direct the soul projecting to appear on a certain place, but he refused to babysit anyone. Which was enough for Danny, all he needed to do was make another expansion in his castle.

He decided to make a garden to receive their soul projecting guests. The garden was enormous, with all kinds of spaced within it. Playgrounds, picnic spaces, soft benches, tables with ghost and space teamed board games, fountains, and of course, the beautiful flowers that surrounded and decorated the place. Once he got ghosts with gardening, protection and caring obsessions on the place to look out for the souls, he was ready to receive them. It took him by surprise the amount of people that came, the garden was never crowded, but was never empty either, and souls of all ages and places were visiting at all times.

He kept expanding the garden as he heard of new things their guests wished for. He enjoyed spending time in the middle of the garden where souls passed by but rarely appeared, it was calm, but not completly quite with the background noice of the soul enjoying their dreams, and he could do the more mundane king/prince work. Until, he starts getting a regular visitor on his little space of the garden.

Choose the DC character you prefer, my idea is for people who hasn't died in the past but has been in the doors of death (so died and came back would be disqualified but you do as you prefer), but I'm going with Tim.

The soul of a boy around his age appears just in front of him, as usual when he greets new arriving soul, he welcomes him with a gentle smile and tells him he is free to explore the garden. A ghost taker is assign to him. The soul, as usual, seems confused and like he wished to asks questions, but seems content to ask them to his tour guide, and Danny continues with his own duties.

But then, the same soul continues to appear in the same place every two or three days, they exchange greetings and every time talk for a bit longer before the boy leaves to explore once more. It's rear to have multiple visits from one soul, even more so for said soul to appear in the same place every time. By the four time, Danny decides to take a break on his royal duties and accompany his new friend.

~ They get close, and have cute scenes, Tim asks a lot of questions and Danny answers and not-answers a lot of questions ~

One day, Tim shows up as usual, but he is in full Red Robin costume, and well, Danny wasn't expecting an identity reveal.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On the Bats side:

There's an attack of some villain that's able to put Red Robin (or character of your choice) on a sleeping beauty type of sleep while carrying a serious injury, were he stays sleep until teammates or backup gets him out of it. The event affects his soul, making him disconnect partially from the land of dreams and making his soul sleep project almost every time he sleeps.

Tim starts sleeping more often. It's worrying at first, Bruce being paranoid does every test in the book, despite Tim saying he's just finding sleep easier now. But, he was just affected by sleeping magic and suddenly his sleeping easier? Seems like a side effect, and that makes it worrying.

Tim's health in general improve, just like he's concentration and productivity. Who would have thought that working rested actually was more productive than working on less than three hours of sleep and missing obvious details and clues due to how tired you are.

With everything not only being okay, but better than before, paranoia about Tim's new sleeping schedule soon dies, and instead is replaced with teasing about how he used to refuse to rest kicking and screaming, and now he may sleep more than any of them.

On Tim's side, he's loving being able to soul project so often. He knew from the start he was in a different dimension, and he just wanted to know the hows, whys, and everything else. So far, he seems to do it at least once every three days, and he's even gone two times in a row a couple of times.

The garden had a lot of things to do, but Tim doesn't care about that, he's more interested in all the information he's getting. The first 3 times he was given different ghost nanny's, who were more focus on entertaining him and didn't really answer direct question. But then king/prince Phantom decided to accompany him personally, and everything went smoother. He was going back to get to know more about this new world, and maybe to know more about the cute prince/king too. He might also have gotten some better looking pajamas.

Now, he has a mission that takes more than a couple days with some people in his team that hasn't yet sen his face. He didn't realize how difficult it would be to do all nighters after getting used to a sleep schedule. He would usually try to go as long as possible without sleeping, but he decides that he should take advantage of the safety of where they're staying and sleep a bit too. He ended up soul projecting in full Red Robin costume. He tried to play it cool, maybe Phantom wouldn't know it was him.

"Red Robin, even if you didn't appear on the same spot as always, I can feel your soul. I know who you are."

[kathaelipwse]

Written in the Pages || C.San

Pairing: Choi San × You (F!Reader)

Trope: Hidden Identity | Slow Burn | Actor!Idol!San x Writer!Reader | Fate & Coincidence Warnings: Slight Angst | Pining | Public Speculation | Idol Life Struggles | Teasing | NO PROOF READING WAS DONE | Rushed writing | Mention of existing companies & brands | ONLY A WORK OF FICTION

Word Count: 4008 words ; Reading time: 15-ish mins

Synopsis: You never expected your novel to take over the world—or for readers to realize that your male lead looked exactly like Choi San. The internet was on fire, and when Netflix proposed a live adaptation, you jokingly suggested his name. Except he agreed. Now, standing across from him on set, lines blurring between fiction and reality, you can’t help but wonder—was your love story already written in the pages?

Author’s Note: This idea spiraled out of control, and I regret nothing! 🖤 A mix of tension, slow-burn romance, and the classic “Are we acting, or is this real?” trope. Hope you love the chaos as much as I do! Request's are open!!

The world knew you as Y/N, a name whispered in hushed tones everywhere midst the readers who loved a fusion of dark and fluff romance, a dark promise on the lips of those who dared to delve into the depths of your narratives.

Your novels, especially "Shattered Heart," were not mere romances; they were intricate labyrinths of the human psyche, meticulously crafted explorations into the darkest corners where love bloomed amidst decay and obsession. Readers were ensnared, captivated by the twisted dance of Ravenna Skye and Lee Renji , their story a haunting melody of desire and destruction, a symphony of obsession played on the strings of broken hearts.

Ravenna, a woman sculpted from sharp edges and hidden scars, a survivor with eyes that held the ghosts of past traumas, captivated them. She was a paradox, both fragile and formidable, a woman who demanded submission and offered a dangerous kind of salvation, a siren luring them into the depths of a twisted devotion.

Renji, the predator cloaked in charm, a man whose love was a suffocating embrace, a possessive force that promised both ecstasy and ruin, became an obsession, a dark idol worshipped in the shadows of the internet. His description, however, was where the unease began to fester, a creeping dread that seeped into the collective consciousness.

Broad shoulders that hinted at a capacity for violence, a subtle tension that promised a storm, a devastatingly charming smile that masked predatory intent, a calculated allure that ensnared the unwary, sharp yet haunting features that held unspoken threats, a silent promise of pain. And hands… hands that could both caress and crush, leaving marks that were both tender and brutal, a physical manifestation of his dual nature.

"He's him," a post on a hidden forum whispered, a digital echo in the darkness, a chilling revelation that spread like a virus, followed by a meticulously compiled, chillingly detailed comparison of Renji's physical and psychological traits to those of Choi San, the idol whose public persona was a carefully curated mask, a facade that hid something far more complex, far more dangerous, a hidden darkness that resonated with the shadows within Renji.

Screenshots of San's piercing gaze, a look that seemed to penetrate the soul, were juxtaposed with passages from "Shattered Heart," highlighting Renji's possessive tendencies, the subtle manipulation, the psychological games, and the undercurrent of barely restrained rage, the silent promise of violence beneath the veneer of charm.

"Did she know?" the question slithered through the online shadows, a venomous serpent seeking its prey, a chilling accusation that hung in the digital air. "Is this a confession, a warning, or a twisted game of control, a psychological experiment played out on the public stage?"

The online world, usually a place of playful speculation, was now steeped in a chilling unease, a pervasive sense of dread that permeated every forum, every comment section. They dissected every word, every nuance, searching for hidden meanings in the darkness of your prose, seeking the truth behind the carefully crafted fiction.

The speculation escalated, reaching a fever pitch, a crescendo of online anxiety, when you, the enigmatic author, finally emerged from your self-imposed exile for an interview. The world watched, drawn in by your unsettling beauty, a fragile, yet strong with eyes that held the weight of untold secrets, a haunted allure that mirrored Ravenna's own, a dark elegance that hinted at a hidden strength, and a knowledge that seemed to transcend the ordinary, a silent understanding of the darkness that lurked within the human heart.

"Renji is a fiction," you stated, your voice a low, melodic whisper, a silken thread of sound that held a chilling undercurrent, a subtle tremor that hinted at hidden depths, yet a flicker of something dark and knowing in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the shadows that lurked beneath the surface, a recognition of the primal desires that fueled both love and obsession. "He is a reflection of the shadows that reside within us all, the desires we dare not speak, the darkness we try to deny, the monsters we keep chained within our souls."

But the universe, it seemed, had a taste for the macabre, a perverse fascination with the twisted narratives you wove, a dark curiosity that mirrored the obsession of your readers. TikTok became a breeding ground for fan edits, each one a disturbing exploration of Renji's obsession, a visual representation of the psychological torment, the subtle manipulation, and San's potential for darkness, a chilling reminder of the thin line between adoration and obsession, a stark warning of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of idealized love.

Livestreams were invaded by comments, their tone shifting from curiosity to dread, a growing sense of fear that the fictional world was bleeding into reality, that the darkness you crafted was seeping into their own. Even San's broadcasts were not immune, the playful banter replaced by an unsettling silence, a palpable tension that hung in the air.

He read a particularly unsettling comment aloud, his playful facade cracking, revealing a flicker of unease, a glimpse of the fear that was slowly consuming him. "San, you are Renji."

He scrolled through the images, his amusement turning to a cold unease, a creeping dread that settled in his bones, a chilling awareness of the darkness that lurked within the carefully constructed persona. He recognized the details, the subtle hints of darkness, the almost predatory intensity, the unsettling familiarity of Renji's possessiveness which he could possibly inact if needed.

A sense of dread washed over him, a feeling that Renji wasn't just a character, but a dark reflection of something within himself, a hidden darkness that he had never dared to acknowledge, a primal instinct that resonated with the twisted desires of the fictional character. The seed of doubt, planted by a thousand online whispers, began to bloom into a chilling realization, a terrifying echo of fear, a dark understanding that the line between fiction and reality was blurring, and that he was standing on the precipice of something dangerous.

The digital tremors from the online earthquake, a seismic shift in the perception of your work, had barely subsided when the call came. Netflix, drawn by the raw, visceral energy of "Shattered Heart," wanted to adapt it into a live-action series. A global project, they called it, promising to bring the dark romance to life with unflinching intensity, to translate the shadows you'd painted onto the screen. The news, usually a cause for celebration, hung heavy in the air, a dark promise of what was to come, a premonition of the chaos you were about to unleash.

During the initial casting discussions, amidst the hushed tones and the careful consideration of actors, a question was posed, a loaded inquiry that carried the weight of unspoken expectations: "Do you have anyone in mind for Renji?"

The name slipped from your lips, unbidden, a dark echo of the online whispers, a dangerous gamble that felt both reckless and inevitable: "Choi San."

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken questions, disbelief, and a flicker of something akin to fear. San, the idol, the performer, the man whose face had become synonymous with Renji’s darkness, whose public persona was a carefully crafted enigma. It was a bold, almost reckless suggestion, a gamble that could shatter everything, or ignite a firestorm of obsession.

The news exploded, a digital wildfire that consumed the internet, spreading through forums and social media like a plague. Fan theories, already fervent, reached a fever pitch, spiraling into darker territories. The possibility of San embodying Renji, the predator, the obsessive lover, was both thrilling and terrifying, a dangerous dance on the edge of obsession, a blurred line between fantasy and reality.

You had expected a refusal. A polite, diplomatic decline. After all, he was a K-pop idol, not an actor. The role of Renji demanded a level of emotional complexity, a willingness to delve into the darkest corners of the human psyche, to explore the shadows of obsession and control, that seemed far removed from the polished perfection of idol life. You had imagined a carefully worded statement from his agency, citing scheduling conflicts or creative differences.

Instead, a meeting was scheduled. You found yourself face-to-face with him, in a sterile conference room, the tension palpable, a silent battleground where unspoken desires and hidden fears collided. And goddamn, the internet was right. He fit the role like a glove. The captivating charm, the underlying intensity, the almost predatory gaze—it was all there, a chilling echo of Renji, a reflection of the darkness you had conjured. Cute yet lethal, charming yet mysterious, an effortless embodiment of the shadows you had written, a dangerous mirror of your creation.

"I won't be playing Ravenna," you declared, your voice steady, though a tremor ran through you, a subtle vibration of unease that betrayed your carefully constructed composure. "I'm not an actress." The thought of stepping into Ravenna’s shoes, of embodying her pain, her resilience, her dangerous allure, was a daunting, almost terrifying prospect, a leap into the abyss of your own creation.

San leaned forward, his eyes locking with yours, a smirk playing on his lips, a playful yet dangerous glint in his gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. "Then who will? The fans won't settle for anyone else. They see you as Ravenna. They see us," he emphasized the "us," a subtle provocation, a dangerous acknowledgment of the connection the fans perceived. "They've already written the script in their heads, haven't they? They see the sparks."

You sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on you, the pressure from the fans and the intensity of his gaze. "I've never acted. It'll take too many retakes—I'll just waste everyone's time. You’re a professional. I’d just slow everything down." The vulnerability you rarely showed, the fear of inadequacy, crept into your voice, a crack in your carefully constructed facade.

"Then learn," he shrugged, his gaze unwavering, intense, a silent challenge that dared you to step into the darkness. "Life is about learning, isn't it? About facing the darkness, about embracing the shadows."

There was something in the way he said it, a dark resonance that hinted at a shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface, a dangerous curiosity that mirrored your own. Something that made your pulse unsteady, that sent a strange, unsettling thrill through you, a forbidden excitement that you couldn't deny.

Against your better judgment, against the warnings echoing in your mind, you agreed. A contract was signed, not just for a series, but for something far more dangerous, a pact with the shadows, a dangerous game played on the edge of reality. The series, and this strange, intense connection with San, was about to begin, a dangerous dance into the darkness, a journey into the heart of your own creation.

Filming began, a whirlwind of controlled chaos, a meticulously crafted descent into the shadows. The set became a liminal space, a world between fiction and reality, where the shadows you had written took on flesh and blood, where the lines of reality began to blur and twist. And within that chaos, San moved with an unsettling grace, an effortless embodiment of Renji. The predatory charm, the simmering intensity, the way he could switch from playful to dangerous in a heartbeat—it was both captivating and terrifying, a dangerous dance on the edge of obsession, a performance that felt too real.

You, on the other hand, were thrown into the deep end, forced to confront the vulnerability you usually kept locked away, protected by the armor of your words. Acting was a different beast entirely, a raw exposure of emotions you typically channeled into your writing, a stripping away of the carefully constructed walls. The camera's unblinking eye felt like it was stripping away your carefully constructed defenses, exposing the raw emotions you usually poured into your characters, a terrifying intimacy.

But San became an unexpected anchor in that storm, a dark guide through the chaos, a constant presence that both comforted and unsettled you.

"You look like you're about to run," San observed during a break, his gaze studying your tense posture.

"I feel like I'm about to," you admitted, a wry smile playing on your lips. "This is… intense."

"Intense is what we do," he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "Embrace the chaos, Y/N. It's where the magic happens."

In the quiet moments between takes, a strange camaraderie blossomed, a silent understanding that transcended words, a shared language of unspoken desires. You were comfortable in shared silences, finding an odd peace in the chaos, a fragile truce amidst the emotional turmoil. There were moments of goofy laughter, shared jokes that eased the tension, light moments that felt like a momentary reprieve. And then there were the moments where the line between actor and character blurred, where the intensity in San's eyes felt too real, too personal, a dangerous reflection of Renji's obsession, a haunting echo of the character you had created.

And then came the confession scene.

Los Angeles. A rainy night, the city lights reflecting off the wet streets, creating an almost ethereal glow, a scene painted in shadows and whispers, a culmination of the unspoken tension.

The scene was simple, yet laden with emotional weight, a raw expression of vulnerability: Renji calling out, "Venna!"

You, as Ravenna, turned, rain plastering your hair to your face, your breath catching in your throat. San, as Renji, was a dark silhouette against the city lights, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart pound.

"Venna," he repeated, his voice a low, desperate plea. "Don't run."

You took a step back, fear and desire warring within you. "Renji…"

He closed the distance, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Tell me you feel it too. Tell me this isn't just me."

Your breath hitched. "I…"

He cupped your face, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Tell me, Venna."

You closed your eyes, the weight of the unspoken hanging heavy in the air. "Yes."

He pulled you closer, his hand sliding down to your waist, his grip firm, possessive. "Then show me."

A kiss. A lingering touch that felt like a brand, a silent promise, a dangerous consummation.

--- "Cut."

The director's voice broke the spell, but the air remained charged, thick with unspoken desires, a tension that crackled between you and San.

"That was… intense," the director commented, a flicker of unease in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the raw emotion.

"Too intense?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, your gaze locked on San, seeking answers in his eyes.

"Perfect," San murmured, his voice low, his eyes never leaving yours, a dangerous intensity in their depths. "Perfectly real."

Why did it feel so real?

Why did San linger, his gaze intense, wanting to hold you again, kiss you again, erase the boundaries between fiction and reality, merge the characters with the actors?

And why did you feel the same, a dangerous pull towards the darkness he embodied, a forbidden desire that mirrored Ravenna’s?

The rest of filming became a tightrope walk, a precarious balance between fiction and reality, a dangerous game of emotions. The chemistry between you and San was undeniable, electric, but it was a dangerous electricity, charged with unspoken desires and hidden depths, a silent language spoken in stolen glances and lingering touches, a constant push and pull. The lines between Ravenna and Renji, between Y/N and San, began to blur, creating a tension that permeated every scene, a silent battleground of emotions, a dangerous dance of shadows and light.

The year passed in a blur of long days and sleepless nights, a constant dance between shadows and light, a journey into the heart of your own creation. Filming wrapped. The movie was released.

It shattered records.

The world was captivated by the dark romance, by the raw intensity of the characters, by the undeniable connection between the actors, a connection that seemed to transcend the screen, a forbidden intimacy that captivated millions.

You and San still texted, the digital connection a lifeline in the post-filming void, a fragile thread connecting you across the distance, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken. But distance grew between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings, the dangerous desires left behind in that rain-soaked confession scene, a silent pact to ignore the fire that burned between you, a dangerous denial.

Neither of you spoke about the ache in your chests, the lingering questions that haunted your thoughts, the ghosts of the characters you had played, the emotions that felt too real.

Until San finally confessed to his members.

The teasing? Relentless, a mix of playful and concerned, a chorus of unspoken questions and knowing glances, a silent interrogation.

Award season arrived, a whirlwind of flashing lights and red carpets, a stage for the unspoken drama, a spotlight on the tangled truths.

You walked the red carpet in a black gown laced with gold, a dress that mirrored Ravenna's dark elegance, a silent declaration of the character you had become, a dangerous echo of the woman you wrote. San, in a tailored suit that accentuated his sharp features, sat beside you at your table, the air between you thick with unspoken words, a silent battleground of desires, a dangerous tension.

Best Romance Film? Your movie.

The moment your name was called, a wave of emotion washed over you, a culmination of the journey you had taken, a dangerous acknowledgment of the emotions you had stirred. As you made your way to the stage, San's gaze followed you, a silent intensity that felt both supportive and possessive, a dark promise, a silent claim.

After the show, he found you in an empty hallway, the shadows of the night clinging to him, a predator stalking his prey, a desperate plea for honesty.

And then—

He pinned you against the wall, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the forcefulness of the action, a desperate plea for honesty, a raw confession.

"Tell me," he murmured, his voice low, rough with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher, a dangerous whisper in the darkness. "Tell me I was the only one who felt it. That it wasn't just acting. That the fire between us was real. That the shadows we danced in weren’t just fiction."

His words hung in the air, a dangerous question that shattered the fragile truce you had built. "Tell me," he had murmured, his voice raw, his eyes searching yours, "tell me it wasn't just acting."

You stared at him, the hallway suddenly shrinking, the silence deafening. The weight of his confession pressed down on you, a heavy truth you could no longer ignore. The fire between you, the connection that had sparked on set, it wasn't just for the cameras. It was a dangerous, consuming thing that had taken root in your soul.

"San…" you began, your voice trembling, the words caught in your throat.

He leaned closer, his hand tightening on your waist, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Was it real, Y/N? Was any of it real? Or were we just playing characters?"

The question echoed the doubts that had plagued you for months. The lines between Ravenna and Renji, between you and San, had blurred irrevocably. Was the passion, the intensity, just a performance? Or was it something more, something dangerous, something real, something that threatened to consume you both?

"I don't know," you finally whispered, the honesty a painful admission, a crack in the carefully constructed walls you'd built around yourself. "I don't know what's real anymore. I don't know where Ravenna ends and I begin."

A flicker of something—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe a hint of anger—crossed his face. He released you, stepping back, creating a distance that felt like a chasm, a tangible representation of the emotional distance between you.

"So, it was all just acting," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, a cold statement that cut through the tension.

"No!" you protested, reaching for him, your fingers brushing against his arm, desperate to bridge the gap. "It wasn't just acting. But… it's complicated, San. We're not Ravenna and Renji. This isn't a movie. We can't just follow a script."

He turned away, his jaw tight, his voice strained. "Isn't it? Because it felt pretty damn real to me. It felt like… like everything."

The tension between you was a palpable thing, a live wire stretched taut, threatening to snap, to ignite a fire that would consume you both. The unspoken hung heavy in the air, a dangerous mix of desire and fear, a silent battleground of emotions.

He turned back to you, his eyes searching yours, a raw vulnerability in his gaze. "Y/N," he said, his voice low, a desperate plea. "I need to know. Was it real for you too?"

You hesitated, the truth caught in your throat, a dangerous confession waiting to be unleashed. "San…"

"Tell me," he whispered, closing the distance between you, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me you felt something. Tell me it wasn’t just me."

You closed your eyes, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. "It was real," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "It was too real."

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle, yet firm. "Then tell me," he said, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of truth. "Tell me you feel something for me."

"I…" you started, but the words caught in your throat.

"Say it," he urged, his voice a desperate whisper. "Please."

And then, the dam broke. "I love you, San," you confessed, the words raw and honest, a dangerous admission of the feelings you had tried to deny. "I love you, and it terrifies me."

The following months were a torturous dance. You and San continued to text, the digital connection a fragile lifeline, but the easy camaraderie you had shared on set was gone, replaced by a careful distance, a guarded politeness, a silent acknowledgment of the dangerous emotions that simmered beneath the surface.

You attended every ATEEZ concert, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, watching him from the shadows, your heart aching with a longing you couldn't explain. You stayed in the same hotels, the close proximity a torment, a constant reminder of the unspoken desires that simmered beneath the surface.

Rumors spread like wildfire, fueled by your public appearances, your shared moments, the undeniable chemistry that radiated from you both. The fans, ever-observant, dissected every glance, every touch, weaving their own narratives, their own dangerous fantasies.

And then San made it official.

A single Instagram post.

The photo? You, working on your laptop, your face illuminated by the screen's glow, blurry but unmistakably you.

Caption: "Written in the pages. 🖤"

The internet? Broke.

The fans erupted, a chaotic mix of joy and disbelief, their theories finally confirmed.

The haters? Unbothered. Their voices, usually a deafening roar, were drowned out by the overwhelming tide of support.

Because you didn’t care what the world thought.

After all, your love was already written in the pages. Or was it? The question still lingered, a haunting echo in the quiet moments, a shadow that threatened to consume the light, a dangerous uncertainty that hung in the air.

--