#⊰ ➸ █ ┊❝ you really need to stop talking. ( out of character ) ⊱

[kaysungshine]

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .☽ fae trap ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

{ Pairing } - Elf!Felix x Witch.afab!Reader

{ Genre } - Smut, Dark, Fantasy

{ Synopsis } - It is said, that if you ever find yourself inside of a fairy ring. The fae will punish you, by making you dance until you are passing out from exhaustion. But when you find yourself doing a different kind of 'dance' on the ground, in the middle of one, with the most beautiful creature you've ever seen you might add, you wonder; is this truly a punishment?

{ WC } - 7.7k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, dubcon, aphrodisiac effects, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected sex (piv; do as I say, not as I write & pee after sex!), rough/hard sex, overstimulation, big dick felix, dacryphilia, talk of breeding & mating, talking of mating rituals, please don't touch fly agaric mushrooms, srsly they're toxic and deadly, possible incorrect french usage.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - For the love of all things skz. DO NOT EVER TOUCH FLY AGARIC/AMANITA MUSCARIA MUSHROOMS. THEY ARE TOXIC. DEADLY. This is also probably the darkest thing I've written on this account so far. But it doesn't feel inherently evil to me personally??? But it is enough to warrant a TW! This started off as a birthday oneshot for Felix. I'm starting to think I'm no good at oneshots. This could be left alone, but it could also be a series... I have so many world building thoughts, but idk if I wanna do that. What do you think?

Dusk was approaching as you made your way home from your walk. 

You were blessed to own a cute little home, right on the edge of a beautiful and mysterious forest. Every day you were able to take nature walks, wandering through the treeline, exploring the vegetation. Collecting materials, making sure never to take too much of what the woodland had to offer. And caring for as much as you could, though you knew you were not essential to the survival of wilderness itself. 

That didn't stop you from befriending the little critters who made their home there, or from essentially finding your own second home there. 

You never brought anything with you to permanently invade nature. Instead you wrapped your daily essentials in a little bindle. It usually contained a hearty snack, a book or two, endless vials and jars, your cell, and a small emergency kit. Homemade salves, balms, and tonics included. 

You always had some new shiny objects for your crow friends, making sure to exchange the gifts they left for you at your designated spot. And you always made sure to leave some nuts and seeds for the various rodents who liked to stuff their cheeks. Again, you didn't need to, but they really liked sweet black walnuts and salty peanuts in the shells. Who were you to deny them that treat! 

Some days you brought select crystals with you, cleaning and recharging them in the streams of spring water. Other days you'd use that same water, sealing it in jars and leaving it nearby to make moon water overnight. Those were about the only two things you ever left in the forest, always making sure to come back the next day and retrieve them. 

You always carry a little basket with you too. The forest was abundant in ingredients for many different things. Your favorite is mushrooms and fungi. 

There were many times you'd find a log of an oak tree, fallen over and resting on the ground. A bunch of chicken of the woods growing on it. You'd collect them, taking them home to cook for dinner or other meals.

Other days you'd find lion's mane, and make sure to gather some for your favorite tincture to make and take. It did wonders for your anxiety. 

You were a green witch through and through, and you were raised this way. You drew your energy and essence from nature, always taking little bits of it home. 

Today was no different. Forgoing mushrooms, you instead had bundles of mugwort and a jar full of mulberries in your wicker basket. Wrapped in a little cloth were a bunch of spicebush berries.

You were nearing the last clearing within the woods, your house was about a ten minute walk away at this point. 

The soft moss against your bare feet was grounding, and you were listening to the buzz and crackle of nightlife within the forest. Your white skirt ended at your knees, flaring out. The chiffon is blowing in the cool breeze. It was still tshirt weather, and that's exactly what you wore on top. A fitted one, pale and muted ivy green. You gave up on bras long ago, you were a solitary creature anyways. The friends who did visit never cared about your attire.

You were in your own world, playing a balancing game on a stump and humming to yourself, when flashes of red caught your eye. 

In the clearing, scattered in a broken circle, was fly agaric. 

Your heart fluttered at this rare find. You walk past this clearing daily, and never noticed any of the red mushrooms with white speckles there before. 

Eagerly, you approach. In the back of your mind, warning bells are going off. Thinking back to childhood, of the stories your mom once told you of the fae folk. You'd encountered fairy rings before, but never of this type of mushroom, and never broken ones. Certainly never one so big. You never breached the little white rings in the past, not wanting to mess with entities so possibly mischievous. 

But it would be fine right? This might not even be considered a fairy ring. It was sort of... circle-ish? But not really. There were so many gaps in between them, it wasn't a perfect circle like you'd seen in the past. And these mushrooms were so rare and so powerful, in so many ways. You could feel their energy radiating around you.

You glanced around, searching for any signs of immortal creatures lurking near. You saw and heard nothing, but that would be typical. They never willingly reveal themselves, in fact... You've never seen one. You've never seen any kind of fae folk. It's not that you didn't believe in them, you were sure some form of them existed. Afterall, you practice a form of magick. Your own form, and that exists. 

You were convinced all mythical creatures either exist or had existed, the idea of them couldn't come from nothing. Not when they were in so many stories across all different cultures. 

You paused for a few more moments, really trying to feel any negative energy. There was none, there was never any in your little forest. 

So, tentatively, you took a few steps forward. Then you paused again, waiting for something to pop out. 

Nothing.

You giggled to yourself happily, and then bent down to pluck the mushrooms from the marshy earth. 

They all varied in size, some were large with bulbous caps. Some were shorter, and had flatter caps. Each mushroom, you made sure to pick with a cloth barrier between them and your fingers. These could be deadly if used the wrong way or taken in excess. You had no idea what would happen if you came into direct contact with it, on your bare skin. 

You really should start carrying gloves with you.

You made your way around the broken circle, humming in between giggles, and unconsciously dancing. You were nearly prancing each bare step to the next. 

If you had paid more attention to your mothers tales, you'd realize the consequences of stepping inside a fairy ring were already taking effect.

You were collecting more than you needed now, your basket was overflowing. But still, you didn't want to stop. You felt strangely overcome with merriment. You never felt more at home in these woods than this moment. 

You mindlessly set your basket down, your humming growing in volume. You looked to the sky, as you allowed your body to sway back and forth. Arms stretched out towards the waning moon, coming to life in the dark sky surrounding you. 

Your eyes closed, soaking in the moonlight. And you brought your arms back down, letting them float at your sides as you twirled, and twirled. Your skirt flutters up to reveal your thighs even more, hair whipping in your face. You revelled in the feeling of the squishy dirt beneath your feet. You felt grounded, but as if you were flying all at the same time.

You don't know when your solitude was breached, or if you were ever truly alone in the first place, but you finally noticed his presence when his hands intertwined with yours. 

He was twirling with you, spinning you in circles. 

He was nearly glowing, strawberry colored lips revealing the sweetest smile you'd ever seen. His long, straight white hair framed his face stunningly, tendrils of it outlining his strong jaw line. And his face... so, perfect. He had hundreds of freckles splashed across his cheeks, nose and eyes. Even some scattering up to his hairline, and down to his chin. You'd imagine you could create many constellations with them, like the stars that twinkle in the night sky. He adorned various jewelry, all silver. In his ears, and a cuff across the bridge of his nose. He even wore a gorgeous crown that laid across his forehead as a head piece. It was thin, and wiry, made up of gorgeous silver filigree that shone in the moonlight. You knew that the rings you felt in between your fingers would be silver too. 

He wore all white. You couldn't be sure exactly what his outfit was, but his shirt was a flowing lace up top. Revealing delicate collar bones and toned chest. It was mostly a blur in the midst of his movements. 

Your gasp was delayed, only coming out when he pulled you closer to him. Your hand remains in his, while his arm is wrapped around your waist. You were nearly flush with him, feeling the rest of his chiseled torso against your plush body. But he kept your face at some distance to maintain eye contact. The smile never slipped from his lips. 

He has you captivated, and the two of you don't falter in your melodic movements once. His eyes bore into you, dark and sharp. Yet he exuded a certain softness, and you found yourself lost in the moment. It didn't seem real. 

But it was. 

You were seeing him. In all his glory, ever mysterious and breathtaking. The most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. 

You were hearing him. He was humming the same tune you were, an old lullaby your mom used to sing to you. His voice was deep, and even, harmonizing with your breathy high pitched voice beautifully. 

You were feeling him. He was touching you, his hand interlocked with yours. His grip around your waist is gentle but possessive. He held you like he didn't want to break you, but knew if he was too loose, you'd go running. 

Though you weren't so sure you would run. 

Your mind was racing. There's no way you could stumble across a perfect stranger, who was immediately dancing with you, so close to the edge of the forest. So close to your house. Maybe this was some sort of hallucination. A side effect of being surrounded by so many toxic mushrooms. 

The mushrooms. 

That was it, it all clicked. Too late did the rest of your mother's words ring in your ears. 

His aura, his energy, his perfect pixie-like features. You noticed the point of his ears now, the glittery sheen to his skin. His smile is full of white pointed teeth, dull now, but you could tell they were once sharper in the past. His slight cat-like eyes, giving them that sharp look even though everything else about him screamed delicate.

Your humming stopped, but his didn't. Your mother's voice is filling your head, and you were repeating the words she once told you so long ago. 

'and if you're caught, the fae folk will punish you. You'll be dancing within the ring until you faint from exhaustion.' you whispered quietly. 

His smile only grew, a glint lighting up his eyes. 

He finally spoke, his chest vibrating against yours, "Wise words, from a magnificent young lady."

He had an accent, you couldn't quite place it. Something between old english and australian. It made you want to melt. 

He started laughing, and you were sure that if he didn't have a grip on you, you would've slid to the ground. 

You've both stopped twirling, but he's still moving you, moving with you. Swaying back and forth. 

"Who are you?" You ask curiously. 

"Who?" He chuckles, "Usually it's 'what are you', that people ask me. Though it's been almost a century since I have revealed myself to a mortal."

A century? Your mouth dries, and you feel something akin to fear course through your veins. But you aren't scared of him for some reason. Wary, suspicious, but not scared. 

"You're different though, you seem to have at least a diminutive amount of knowledge of my realm." 

You want to get angry at that comment. You'd like to consider yourself well informed and educated on all supernatural and magickal subjects. There'd always be more to learn though, and the human brain simply could not grasp it in its entirety. So he wasn't wrong. 

You're still saying nothing, dazed from his presence. So he continues. 

"You were right when you said fae folk." He assures. 

"You're a fairy?" You whisper, wonder dazzling in your voice.

At that he laughs again, and you swear you hear small chimes behind it.

"An elf. I believe that is the universal name humans gave us. Not all fae are fairies, there are others too." 

As he speaks, he lets go of your hand, bringing his fingers up to brush strands of hair from your face. His touch is warm, for some reason that shocks you. 

"Elf." You repeat, not a question, but a statement.

He hums, in agreement and starts to twirl you around again. His hand resting on your cheek, thumb brushing featherlight touches against it. 

You're trying very hard to wrap your head around the entire scenario. You shouldn't be surprised. You've dealt with other worldly things in the past. Spiritual realms are completely different from anything having to do with the fae world though. 

Worry floods through you again once you realize what's happening. 

"Am I being punished?" You lip quivers as you speak, "I-I was just trying to collec-"

He's bringing his head down, his forehead meeting yours. You feel the cold bite of the silver headpiece touching your skin. It's enough to shut you up.

"Shhh, darling. Don't view it as a punishment." 

"I don't want to dance until I pass out." You slowly say, even though your body feels otherwise.

Underneath the initial shock and caution, you still felt that overwhelming happiness. It was borderline euphoric... and strangely arousing. 

Everything happening inside your mind and body right now was so confusing. You were feeling lost, and found yourself clinging to the man--the elf, before you. 

"You pretty creature, don't worry. Danser dans le ronds de sorcières... that's for children." 

French? This being was a riddle. 

"I don't understand." You force out. 

He leans back a bit, so he can look into your eyes and your thighs clench, "We tell the kids, fae and human, that if a mortal is caught within our rings. They dance to exhaustion. The humans carried this myth with them into adulthood, while our kind later learned the truth of these special rings." 

He's still dancing with you, moving your body elegantly to a now imaginary song. Leading you in something reminiscent of a waltz, but you can barely focus on that when his touches are electric against your skin. 

"The truth?" You ask. 

He's dipping you down now, bending with your body as he once again is peering into your eyes. At first you think it's part of the dance. Until your back meets the land that was underneath your feet. The mixture of smells was potent. The scent of damp moss, and semi-sweet foliage filling your nose. 

He hums again, "It was never an entire lie, it always started off with dancing." 

The timbre of his voice was pooling wetness in your panties. You felt beads of sweat forming on your brow, and you were bewildered at how your body was reacting right now. It didn't make sense. 

His body is hovering over you now, his face coming close to yours. His nose is brushing along yours before he speaks again. 

"What better way to set the mood than a passionate dance, and in this case, under the moonlight?"

You whimpered, feeling disoriented and needing his touch. 

"I don't even know your name.", was the only thing you managed to mumble. 

He chuckled, and you felt his breath puff against your lips, "It's unimportant darling, but since you're so... alluring. You can call me Felix... I'd love to hear it rolling off your tongue when I make you cum."

You were mewling at the thought of fucking this mystical being, when you felt his lips against yours.

He was almost lazy in the way he kissed you. Seemingly in no rush at all. And it's not that you were complaining, but you wanted more. So you wrapped your arms around his neck, forcing his body flush with yours. 

He was smiling against your lips now, and you took the opportunity to swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, begging for access. 

"So eager. Patience little dove. You'll get what you desire and more." 

You knew it was absurd to lust after a man--an elf, gods how could you keep forgetting that, that you just met. But your body was burning and it felt like he was your only rescue. 

His hands wandered your body, groping and massaging every inch. 

He had your leg wrapped around him, his hand trailing down the back of your thigh and his lips attached to your neck. He was marking you with what you imagined to be the most beautiful bruises. You were panting at this point, and it felt ridiculous to be this turned on by so little. By a stranger. But it didn't make you want to stop.

His fingers reached the edge of your panties, and you gasped. You felt his smile again, he was enjoying every bit of this. You felt powerless to his strokes against you. Your hips were bucking up, chasing for friction.

His hand gripped your hip tightly, fingers squeezing into your flesh, pinning you further into the dirt. 

You hissed before whining, begging "Please."

"I said be patient." His voice was stern as he spoke against your ear.

It still didn't stop you from squirming beneath him, your mind wasn't registering anything beyond wanting to feel him filling you up. 

He brought his face back to yours, eyes gleaming and the most naughty expression written across it. 

"Fine. As you wish, little dove. But don't forget, I was trying to ease you into this." 

He tore your panties off of you, and his fingers were rubbing against you harshly, sending jolts of pleasure through you. 

"A-aaah!" You were moaning loudly, his movements jarring.

"This is what you wanted darling, isn't it?" He's muttering against your lips now, slipping his fingers into you. 

Your body feels more alive than ever, waves of pleasure washing over you. His fingers skillfully curl inside you, while his thumb works your sensitive bud. Swipe after swipe, eliciting more and more of your arousal onto his hand. 

His kiss is searing, and feels like the only thing currently keeping you anchored to your body. You felt your orgasm building quickly, the band growing tighter and tighter in your stomach. It felt like you'd float away when it snapped. 

You can't contain the lewd noises you're making. Between the moans he's swallowing from your lips, and the loud squelching from between your thighs, it was deafening. Or maybe it was just that your ears were ringing. 

It felt like only seconds later when he brought you over the edge, his movements slowing but never stopping. You're whining, and your legs are trembling but you don't want him to stop. You're nearing over sensitivity and when you close your eyes, you see nothing but stars.

All you can think of are the freckled constellations on his cheek. 

You feel drunk on this moment, and you don't want it to end. It's as if he knows exactly where your mind is when he speaks again.

"You're not done little dove, don't you worry your pretty little head." 

When you open your eyes, and tilt your head up, his shirt and pants are discarded. Revealing a dizzying body. He was lithe yet chiseled. His body is almost dainty, but each muscle is carved in the most irresistible way. His abs were glorious, your eyes trail lower, following the v cut. You notice the faint spattering of a happy trail, and your eyes follow it. 

And fuck.

You've never been one to view someones cock as pretty but... his was. The tip was so swollen and pink, and leaking generous amounts of precum. Faint blue veins prominent along the shaft, and he stood tall and proud. His girth made you wonder if you could handle the stretch. It had been a while since you'd last been intimate. 

He brought his hand, covered in your slick, to his member. Spreading it all over in a mixture with his precum, making it glisten. Your mouth started to water, and your legs spread wider for him. You pulled your skirt completely up, presenting yourself to him. 

His jaw was slack, mouth hung open as he watched you, fist pumping himself slowly. 

"Such a good girl for me darling, aren't you?" He said with that charming smile. 

There was something about the way he looked at you, while doing such a perverse act that had your juices dripping down you. 

Then he was on top of you again, cock sliding into you. Your entire body tensed at the intrusion and you wailed, a mix of pain and pleasure. But it was so satisfying, you couldn't get enough. Your arms wrapped around his neck again, and he was thrusting into you at a brutal pace. 

Your back was digging into the ground, and you started to feel bits of grass and dirt against your skin. You pulled against him, trying to adjust yourself so you could lose yourself in the dance you two were now performing. 

He pulled out of you, and sat back on his knees, that's when you noticed his clothes underneath him. You had no idea he was wearing a cape earlier. It was sprawled out, creating a barrier between him and the ground. 

He picked you up, and positioned you to straddle his lap, facing him. Then he slid back into you, your eyes rolled back, and you let out a filthy moan. 

This position felt more intimate but still desperate, he was reaching deeper into you. The head of his cock pistoning against your g-spot. It felt so good you could cry. 

You were crying, you realized. 

"Shhh, little dove, you're taking it so well. It feels so good, doesn't it?" 

"Yes!" You sob. 

He's wiping the tears from your eyes with his fingers, and smiling at you like you're the most precious thing on this planet. 

"That's right, pretty. So pretty when you cry." He groans out, and his pace grows faster, rougher.

His hand dips down between you, and he's toying with your clit now. In any other circumstance, you'd be embarrassed by the way your body uncontrollably trembles. Your muscles are spasming at his touch. You just couldn't bring yourself to care, he was making you feel too good. 

"Darling," He purred, as he slowed his thrusts and pinched your clit between two fingers, rolling it, "I want you to look me in the eyes when you cum for me, can you do that?" 

You were mewling as you nodded your head frantically, feeling your peak rush towards you. 

At that he started fucking into you harshly, almost painfully, and you were coming undone with a loud cry on top of him. Your body tensed, nails digging into his shoulders, struggling not to throw your head back. His hand that was playing with you, gripped your jaw, smearing your own arousal on your face.

He was making sure you kept your word, maintaining your gaze on his while you clenched around him. Your eyes were fluttering as you tried to keep them open. He was biting his lip, eyebrows scrunched together as he fucked you through your orgasm. Watching your face contorted in pleasure. 

"So tight." He grunted.

You were scratching at him now, nails dragging down his shoulders. And your mouth was hung open in a silent scream, your voice having given up on you. 

It was becoming overwhelming. 

You still didn't want it to stop.

"I know you can take it darling, take it." He growled, gripping both your hips now to steady you.

So you did, until you were limp in his arms, and he was releasing into you with a groan. 

Your head was resting on his shoulder. Sweaty skin sticking to each other, and he was soothing you. Humming and stroking your hair gently. You were breathing heavily, trying to come down from this mind blowing experience. But you weren't descending, not mentally. You were still riding that high, stuck in a lust filled haze. 

He started to roll his hips tantalizingly slow, and you hissed at it, feeling slight pain. Mostly you were shocked he was still hard. 

His chest vibrated while he quietly laughed, "Did you forget the 'more' part, darling. I keep telling you, we're not done yet." 

You whined at the sensation of his gentle movements. 

"Shhh, there there." He's teasing you, "Are we a little sore?"

"Yes." You breathed.

"I can fix that." 

You gasped when he slid out of you, hating the fact that you felt so empty. 

He was positioning you to lay down on his clothes, taking care that no part of you touched the ground. You just let him handle you, molding your pliant body however he wanted it.

His hands were rubbing down your arms, and he was smiling down at you. When you met his eyes, you couldn't explain the exact emotions you were feeling. You'd let this man take your soul if he asked right now. 

He was licking his lips as his hand trailed back to your core. You gasped again, then whined when he dragged his fingers through your swollen folds. His touch was almost massaging, yet sensual. He was touching everywhere, teasingly avoiding your sensitive bud. 

The more he touched you, the more you writhed. And sensing another comment about how you can't be still or patient, you yanked him down to you so you could kiss him. 

You were tired of just laying there, you wanted to start giving. To start touching.

You didn't know where all this stamina came from, but you were determined to use it. You jerked your hips up, leaning more into his touch. 

It wasn't until you reached down to wrap your fingers around his length that he paused his movements. 

He was still slick with your cum. And you used that to give him slow strokes.

He let out a hoarse moan against your lips, before pressing his fingers directly on your clit, rubbing in small circles. He was matching your tempo directly. You whined into the kiss, your hand picking up pace. Pumping him faster now, and he followed your lead. 

Or so you thought, just as you felt your climax starting to build, his fingers were being pulled away. 

He took your hand off him, and then crawled down your body, coming face to face with your core. 

"So pretty, even here darling." 

You were blushing at his words, but you couldn't take your eyes off of his, as he stared at you from between your thighs. 

"Still sore? Let me make it feel better, little dove." 

And you felt his tongue lave through your folds. It was gentle and it felt hot, and it drove you crazy. The flicks of his tongue against your clit were maddening, and you wanted more. 

Your hips started slowly moving against his face, and this time he let you. He lets you roll your hips, and grind against his face. His tongue flattened against you, and you slid your hand into his blindingly white locks. You started grinding against him harshly, losing all sense and control of your body and just focusing on climaxing. 

He let himself be used by you, and as your grip in his hair tightened, so did that feeling in your stomach. You felt another orgasm come over you, and he let you ride it out, quite literally.  

You expected to start feeling spent by now, but you didn't. So before he could climb back up your body to kiss you, you were sitting up and pushing him onto his back.

He landed on it with a thud, puffing out air and looking at you incredulously. 

You let the primal urges take over as you lowered yourself onto your stomach, and took his member in your hand. You licked up the underside of his cock, your eyes never leaving his. He groaned as you watched his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

You placed a soft kiss on the tip, and licked the strings of precum off your lips. 

"Fuck..." He whispered.

"Let me return the favor." You mumbled before you took his tip between your lips.

You let your tongue swirl over it a few times, savoring his taste. He brought his hand down to your face, and pushed your hair back for you. 

You let your tongue run down the underside of his cock, and you sunk your mouth onto him. You had completely engulfed him, and were struggling not to gag. Still, you never intended to stop. 

He was grunting as your head bobbed up and down on him, saliva collecting at the corners of your mouth and dripping down to pool at his pelvis. 

"Making--ah fuck--such a mess for me, darling." He groaned. 

He lets you keep at your own pace for a while longer before he starts thrusting into you. He kept your head in place, and you gagged and tears started running down your cheeks. Each stroke became more and more erratic, until ropes of his hot cum were shooting down your throat. 

He pulled you off of him and you gulped down breaths of air. He was caressing your cheek, swiping a mix of tears, spit and cum from your lips before kissing you. 

That's how you both continued throughout the night. Pleasuring each other, nearly non-stop, under the moonlight. Your mind was fractured, nothing else but him existed inside of it. He'd touched, fondled, massaged, and embraced you, until you could only respond with breathy whispers of his name. 

"Felix..." You sighed, when he was bringing feeling back to your numb legs by massaging them.

"Felix..." You moaned, as he slowly took you as you both laid on your sides.

"Felix..." You screamed as you came undone on top of him, riding him roughly.

He took you in many different positions, and you indulge yourself in each one. When he wasn't fucking you, you were whining in complaint and going down on him. If he wasn't going down on you, he was edging you with his fingers. Your hands never left each other's bodies, always needing connection. You were sure he was just as familiar with your body as you were by this point. 

The exhaustion finally hit when he had you on your back in a mating press. The last thing you remember, is staring up into the twilight sky. Dawn was approaching, the stars were disappearing before your eyes, as the golden glow of the sun started to peek through. 

Your eyes were fluttering as you fought unconsciousness, determined to finish fucking this completely ethereal creature. Felix was barely putting in an effort to fuck you, but he still slid in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, as if he wanted to keep your orgasm at bay. You both wanted to extend this moment in time, but your body wouldn't have that.

When you finally let go, cumming on his cock for what felt like the hundredth time. That's when your eyes shut and you gave into the exhaustion. 

The familiar scent of nag champa incense filled your nostrils as you started to come to. 

Your bedroom, permanently infused with your favorite scent to burn, that's where you were. The familiar feel of your sheets beneath you, and your heavy comforter confirmed that.  

Your mind still felt a little cloudy as you started to recall how you got to your bed from the forest. 

That's when you feel a body next to you and your eyes shot open.

"Felix?" You croaked, your voice dry and hoarse.

He was laying next to you on his side, in your bed, in your house. 

He had the blankets pulled up to his waist, and was resting his head on his hand. Elbow propped up, so he could see you better. He was shirtless and he wore that same smile on his face, like he was so fond of you.

"Is that still the only thing you can say, little dove?" He whispered teasingly. 

"How- I mean, why-?" You stutter as you attempt to sit up in bed, but your entire body aches. 

You hiss at the burning sensation you felt between your legs. And your legs, gods, you don't think that they've ever felt so sore. 

"Easy darling, you need to rest." He said as he helped you sit up. 

He reached over to his side of the bed and handed you a glass of water, motioning for you to drink. 

You eyed him curiously as you sipped your water, finishing it rather quickly when you realized how thirsty you were. 

"I ran you a bath and kept it hot, when you're ready we should wash you up more." 

"More?" You questioned him.

"I did clean you up last night, I'm not a monster. The bath will help ease your muscles." He chuckled.

"How did you even know where I live?" 

"It's not hard to figure out, we weren't that far from it. Your house is the only one for miles." 

You still felt guarded around him, even after the night you shared. If the stories your mother told you turned out to be partially true, you could only imagine what other lore could turn out to be true. 

Now this mischievous creature knew where you lived, he was in your home.

"I know this is your sacred space little dove, I don't intend to intrude. However, I couldn't exactly leave you in the state you were in. How are you feeling? Is your head a little clearer?" He spoke softly as he brushed his fingers through your hair. 

It is. Almost all of that dazed feeling was gone, you felt more lucid. In that clarity though, a rush of embarrassment hit you. You felt your skin heat up at the more clear memories of last night. 

You were never the type for hookups or one night stands, yet the things you did with this perfect stranger... This perfect magickal stranger... they felt unspeakable. You'd never lost yourself so completely in someone else's presence, much less with your own... sessions. 

You hide your face in your hands and rub at your temples, trying to make sense of this entire situation. Of your own feelings. You didn't exactly regret it or hate it. Something still felt off. Not only was the entire act abnormal in general, and downright questionable. But it was so out of character for you. Did he use... compulsions? Did he have that type of magick?

"Thinking too hard will just exhaust you more." He said.

"Look..." You sigh, as you turn to face him, "I'm a little lost here, I don't know what to make of this all." 

Next thing you know, he's off the bed. He's picking you up in his arms, and you notice you're both still nude. Your face flushes again at that, and you struggle a bit in his arms.

"Be calm darling, I'm just taking you to the tub. We can talk about it all." 

You let him place you in the tub, and then he's sliding in behind you. Slotting you between his legs. He's pulling you back towards him, so you lay against his chest. You both sit like that for a few moments, absorbing the heat from the bath and getting used to each other in a new type of intimate way.

You should be kicking him out of your house. You should be cussing him out. Defending yourself, but why didn't you feel the need to defend yourself against him? Why were you drawn to him? 

When you think about the facts, some would say you were attacked last night. I mean there's a reason the Fae call it a punishment You didn't feel attacked though. You enjoyed yourself, as crazy as that is to say. 

You always knew you were an adventurous soul, but you never thought to this extent. 

How do you come to terms with actually feeling okay with this whole thing, when you knew you shouldn't be?

"You're a witch, right?" He suddenly asks you, breaking your train of thought. 

"I am... though I'm beginning to question the validity of that title, seeing as I have an actual magical creature behind me." You mumble. 

You knew the magick you practiced was real. You could feel it. It's not like you could create fire though, or move things, or transfigure things in front of you. You weren't even sure Felix could do any of that as an elf. You weren't sure of anything anymore. 

You felt like you were entering an existential crisis. Panic was starting to settle within you when you felt his chest vibrate with laughter, it was an oddly soothing sensation that you know you've felt before.

"No, you are. I can sense it, it's in your blood. It took me a while to piece it together, but you are a witch through and through. Sometimes humans don't know of their tie to the magickal world, but I figured... from your altar, among other objects and ingredients I've noticed here, that you knew." 

You hummed, your mother always told you that you were a part of a long line of witches. She raised you heavily within her practice. You never doubted her, but somehow this new revelation made it so much more real. You realize this was opening a whole new aspect in your own practice. A hidden world, seemingly waiting for your return.

"Is that why you came to me? Because you sensed a witch was near?" You questioned him, your hands playing with the water. 

"No, you stepped inside my fairy ring. I have to say I was shocked. I placed it in, what I thought was, an inconspicuous area. I hadn't realized your home was nearby."

"Okay, I'm going to need you to explain." You sighed. 

"Well... you already know what I told you yesterday. The stories you were told, were passed down by your ancestors and other mortals in general. You don't really just dance in fairy rings, that's a small fib we tell the children. As more human children found the rings, when we'd find them dancing. We'd send them off, warning them if they came in again that we would have them dancing until they faint. When our own children wandered into them curiously, we'd tell them the same thing until it became time for them to learn. It's just something stupid the ancestors came up with, I don't know... It does always start out with a courting dance though, but the main reason for them is, inside a fairy ring... you mate. They're essentially a part of an ancient mating ritual."

At that you nearly jumped up to smack him, but he was a step ahead of you. His arms tightened around your body, pinning your arms to your chest. 

"MATING?!" You screamed at him, trying to turn your head and make eye contact, "I don't fucking wan-" 

"Please, calm down little dove. It's not possible for me to actually breed you. That requires an entirely different ritual, one that hasn't been performed in centuries. I'm not even sure anyone would know how to perform it these days..." He trails off. 

"So then why even lay these stupid Fae traps for humans anyways?!" You screech. 

"They're not traps, and they're not meant for humans." He says defensively, and you can hear the pouting in his tone, "Think of it like this. You know how some penguins build big and pretty nests to attract a mate? It's kind of like that. It's a lot to explain in detail, and I had to create one. Now that I'm of age, it's expected of me to find a partner. Even if I don't find the need to." 

"And why do they exist in this realm if they're not meant for us?"

"Well, a long time ago, back when there was only this realm, and there were more Fae than humans, they came across one. That fairy was so angry at the human for intruding on something so intimate of his, and he threatened the human with a punishment. Before any of the other Fae could stop him, he entered the ring. When they both were inside of it, they were overcome with the magic of the ring. The courting dance had started, and no one else was able to enter. The desire for each other grew. In his anger he must've forgotten what the ring's intention was, and was only focused on punishing the human. But he never got that far. They ended up... mating. They never separated from that night, spending their lives together. It was millenia ago. It created an uproar though. Our kinds had never joined before that way."

You sat and listened, calming down a bit as he told you this story.

"There were battles, not an outright war but there might as well have been. They grew to love each other, and they led the winnings of those battles to stay together. They opened the door for Fae and humans to be together, but it has always been frowned upon from both sides."

There was an entire history of this world that you had never known. One that you could never even imagine to be true. But it is. Before your mind let you delve into it though, you thought back to something he said.

"Overcome with magic? These rings hold compulsions over beings?" You questioned hastily, needing to confirm your suspicions. 

"No. It's not like that..." He sighed, "Didn't you feel different last night?" He continues, "The mushrooms release something like a pheromone. An aphrodisiac, to enhance your sexual stamina. Among other mood boosting and energy boosting properties. It starts by uplifting your mood, making you feel the happiest you've ever been. Then you start dancing, your energy building up in preparation for what's to come. It's not until your partner enters that the aphrodisiacs start releasing. But it doesn't just take away your consent like that. Both parties have to be willing... it needs to be mutual. Though that's not to say that's not how every instance turns out. Evil exists in all realms." 

You shivered at his words, trying to process everything. You could clearly remember the primal urges taking over, the need to constantly be filled. It explained that off feeling, why you were acting so out of character. But you couldn't deny that you had wanted it. 

Craved it. 

You never tried to stop it, never wanted to stop it... In fact you initiated it to an extent. 

He started talking again, "That's why I couldn't just leave you there. Especially not in that forest, where other creatures lurk and might find you. I never felt anything dark there, but that doesn't mean it won't come along. I brought you home. I cleaned you up, I made you drink because you were getting dehydrated. I cared for you."

He was loosening his grip around you to rub your shoulders. It made you think back to the skilled massages he gave you last night, in between all of the sex. He made sure to take care of you the whole night it seemed.

"But none of this answers my question from earlier, why not place the rings in your own realm now? Why would any of the Fae place them here?" You asked.

"There are many different reasons..." He mumbled, "Some of them do it because they want to experience sex with a willing human. Some of them do use them as traps for humans, and those Fae are disgraceful, downright evil. Most of those types have been banished from the realm I come from. But some are like me. We try to hide them, from everyone. Because even though we're required to have them, we don't want to use them."

Then you thought back to his previous words, "Wait... 'find your partner' you said? Are we- do we have some sort of bond now?"

The silence was thick in the air. You waited for him to speak, but he didn't, so you turned around in the tub to face him. Your legs spread out on top of his, as you half straddled his lap. 

His eyes stared into yours, expressionless. It was much colder than his usual warm aura, so you grabbed his hand to hold it, and asked again in a softer tone, "Do we?" 

"We don't have to. It's not permanent. Most Fae who get humans within their rings leave them there once they've passed out anyways. Humans don't have the same stamina as we do, even with their boosted energy from the ring. The first woman passed out, that's where the ancestors got their silly tale from." He spoke tightly, like he was debating even revealing this bond at all. 

"I see." You replied, even though you had many more questions and didn't have a full grasp on it all. 

Not much made sense. In a span of hours you found out the true existence of a hidden realm, and these magickal creatures. You met one, you slept with him, then you actually slept with him, and now you bathe with him. You talk with him, as if all of this is a normal day.

It should all unsettle you more than it actually does. You should be freaking out, 100% meltdown level. This is the story of fairy tales, and maybe not a good one. This could be the big bad wolf and you could be little red riding hood. But somehow, you were comfortable in his presence. Comfortable enough to want to spend more time with him. To learn more, about him, his world, and this new bond. 

So you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, giving his lips a small peck. 

"Maybe we could... figure it out together? See what happens next, if you explain more to me, that is." 

His eyes lit up with hope, and his charming smile returned to his face. The thought that you could wake up every day to that smile entered your head quicker than you could blink.

You'd figure something out. You had to. He couldn't leave your life now. Not when it seemed like it was just getting started thanks to him.

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale @irrevocable-exposure

As always, please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist. And if you do, pretty please interact with my fics besides liking (ie; replying/commenting/reblogging). Although I will always appreciate liking as well! Feedback is always cherished! ♡

But again, please be gentle in your criticism! I am but a sensitive soul.

[kaivenom]

Omg omg, OP Dilfs with a virgin reader? 🥺

One Piece Dilfs first time with a virgin reader HCS

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

A/N: omg people, i am freaking out of how much love the posts about these men are getting. For the past few weeks all i am getting is Dilf fans. Thank you so much.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He doesn't care.

If he is in a relationship with you, then you would have to had sex for the first time, what's the difference if it's your first first?

He see it as both firsts, becuase he doesn't know how would you be in sex.

The thing it's that you didn't know the answer either, so, you were really lost.

The good thing is that this man is really good at saying orders which means that when the time came, you were at his mercy.

It was like being hipnotized.

"Take off your clothes" "Come here." "Kiss me" "Use your mouth"

There were no words of reasurrance but you didn't care, his touches told you he was enjoying your actions.

Something in the atmosphere was extremely serious but deep and lovable.

Gentle and stoic, even when he just told you to suck him off.

All your intrusive thoughts were gone every second his touch was on you.

He would look like he doesn't care but if it's important to you, then he would make it important, even if it's not with his words.

When he isn't giving you orders, he needs to have his lips on you somehow: kissing your neck, your lips, your tits.

Aftercare based on service acts, like rubbing your hair, cleaning you up, giving you water.

He had everything prepared and set, to make you feel good and cared.

Donquixote Doflamingo

He got an instant boner and wanted to take you right there.

The mere thought spliting you in half with ruthness made him all worked up but being the first one to make you feel it was his wet dream.

He was being dominant and agressive, eager to be inside you.

It was intoxicating and almost obsesive.

You were sure it was bad idea to tell him because now he won't be gentle with you, and you were right.

When he tried to put his dick inside you and you began to cry a little and scratch his arm, he stopped instantly.

He knew that you would have that reaction and on his mind he would like it like he always likes the idea of torturing others but suddently it was different.

His mind was racing between all the posibilities while you try to prepare yourself for the pain.

Then he was a little softer, scarily softer, starting to touch every sensitive area with care.

You started to relax and the cries transformed into whimpers, without you knowing, you were finally able to take all his shaft.

He left out a small unexpected groan and slowly started to move.

Your wrap around his arm was still strong but now the pain transformed to pleasure.

When you both finished he putted you on his arms and waited for you to fall asleep.

He was surprised of himself, he always likes to hear the cries and bruises of his lovers, maybe you are something else and he doesn't know what to do about it.

Sr. Crocodile

He couldn't care less.

But he understands that is important to make you feel comfortable and secure, to make you sure that you are not being used and that nothing would be wrong.

He is a very good dealer so, when you said you were a virgin but you wanted to be with him, you both sat down and talked.

You both talked long and deep about all things and emotions possible.

He was confident and calm, everything you needed to feel safe to say everything out loud.

Then, he got up and started to kiss you, it was the time.

He took you up in bridal style and left you on the bed.

His movements are slow, you though it was because he wanted to make you feel safe but in reallity he was a little nervous.

He is used to breaking things not trying to keep it together.

He swears that your dove eyes while naked in bed, expecting for him, just makes him feel something primal.

He carreses your skin and never breaks eye contact, that makes you embarrased and at the same time excited.

He is a somehow scared that he would crush you with his weight but still he gets on top of you and kisses you with passion.

Painfully slow but is worth it, he is concious men.

In aftercare, he just lets you tell him what you need.

Smoker

I think he would be a virgin too.

Too focused on his job and duty to do these things until he met you.

I picture him as akward, he will try to look tough and masculine but he would be like a pudding, soft and shaky, but also tender.

He will set a cozy aesthetic cheeky room for you two.

Rose petals making a trail to the bed, candles, heart-shapped cushions and chocolates, all that manual sappy things.

He will be waiting for you in the bedroom only in boxers, he will never admit it but he was feeling cold.

You got there all flustered, knowing from the start what was everything about.

He went to you with a soft smile, and started to undress you carefully.

Soft and tender kisses while he takes you to bed.

Incredibly passional and masculine, just as he wanted.

Very traditional but yet still exciting.

Amazing with his fingers and very carefull all the time, he knows he is stronger.

Good old missionary, his moans on your neck almost made you cum.

And he almost cummed by the time his dick passed thru your slit.

He knowed it would feel good but never imagined that good, but he last good and gave you the pleasure you deserved.

Aftercare like a god, like he read everything on a book.

Big secret, he read a book, and listened to a podcast, and asked other woman at work (he died of embarrasment).

Akagami Shanks

He is surprised at first.

He pictured you as someone who already had some type of intercourse in these but when he tried to make the move and you flintched, he was shocked.

His first thougth was that you had a traumatic experience, but then you both talked and he was recalculating everything.

His goal now it's to make you have the best experience possible, to the point were he put a little to much effort on himself.

So you needed to remind him that the two of you were going to have sex and that meant that he can get pleasure too.

Very cute from then, little laughs and reasurance.

"I am going to move.... ouch, a cramp." you both laughed while he laid on your tits.

"Now i want you to ride me so..." and now you are both on the ground.

It's really funny beacuse he is amused by your beauty and by being your first and having his dick inside you for the first time, that he isn't aware of anything else, which makes these kind of situations (even after your first time).

Very giggly and cute, i can't say anything else, if you were nervous and insecure at first, all that would be wiped away in a second with his laugh.

[azmstea]

[COSMO - RARE TWISTED]

Okey, I KNOW some people already made this idea (found out while I was working on this), but I really wanted to make my version of it so let's go!!

Well, I decided to rework a bit Twisted Cosmo because I personally never understood why he is a common one to begin with. And also explain how his ability would work!

This will be a PRETTY long blog with a lot of yapping, so if you're actually interested in the "AU", keep reading!!

ASKS ABOUT HIM ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!

Alright, let's start by explaining a bit about him.

"He believes he's helping others, but his healing method doesn't work like before. This twisted, separated from his best friend, walks around looking for people to heal with hearts that block any healing items and causing random effects for a few seconds. Be sure to never be spotted without full health!" - Research description.

During a blackout, Cosmo got lost and was forced to separate from his best friend Sprout and had only one heart left by the end of the process. When arriving at the elevator, he noticed Sprout having a hard time with a twisted, and he also had one heart. Knowing that his stamina was low at the moment, Cosmo does something he never did before: He used all his strength to remove his last heart and give it to Sprout, saving him from a fatal attack. Sprout made it to the elevator, but Cosmo couldn't say the same. (I want my Fruitcake angst y'all, or else I'll cook it)

We aren't sure how exactly toons became Twisteds, but for the sake of this "AU", Dandy decided to use Cosmo as a way to test something new: An ichor heart in a non main character toon. This heart made Cosmo stop from dying, but it causes him A LOT of pain, since his chest is opened and the ichor causes physical pain. He still has some conscience inside of him, but the ichor stops him from acting like how he used to and makes it more difficult to talk. His body and head are full of bites, like the twisted that was haunting Sprout tried to eat him before. His arm is way bigger and heavier than before, but he doesn't mind much because he is pretty strong around his arms, but it surely brings some extra pain for his right side.

Deep down, he just wants to help other toons, but he can't realize how he isn't capable of doing it in a positive way anymore thanks to the ichor.

Yes, I know, only main characters have sounds to show that they're nearby, but I want to add that if Cosmo is extremely close of you (in the same room or in the next room), you're capable of hearing his ichor heart beats, which are fast and loud. Like this, players can escape from him in case they are in a dangerous situation.

ABILITY:

(I saw a video called "swap au" on YouTube and took a bit of inspiration from it, but I changed it to make it a little more interesting!)

Twisted Cosmo's ability is inspired in his Toon's active: Heal others, but with a reverse effect.

If you have all your hearts, Cosmo won't follow you or harm you, he will keep walking because he doesn't want to hurt anyone (something like Glisten) and because he knows you won't need any heals. At first, it's like he won't even do anything at all.

However, if he sees you with 2 hearts or only 1 heart, he will grab his ichor heart from his chest and start chasing you, with the intention of throwing a heart at you and "help". His attention spam is a little longer (3.5 s) and his speed increases from his canon twisted form, but his eye vision isn't the best since he doesn't have one of his eyes, so he can't see you from extreme distances like Shrimpo.

If he catches you, your empty heart slots will be filled with a weird "ichor heart", similar to main characters. As his description says, the heart will block any kind of healing, so things like Teagan's active, medkits and bandaids won't work at all. Along with that, you'll get a random effect for 10 seconds from the I category (like "Confused I", "Slow I", "Tired I"). After the attack, Cosmo will no longer follow you because he thinks he finished his job there. (Distractors you're all screwed🔥)

And plus, you can avoid his attack if you heal yourself BEFORE he can heal you.

Another ability of his is being able to know when and where a player got hurt. Let's say you have 3 hearts, but you got a hit from Shelly in "x" spot. In this scenario, Cosmo will immediately go to "x" spot no matter how far he is from the place. If you manage to leave where you were before he arrives, good! If not, Cosmo will chase you to give you an ichor heart. Sounds "inoffensive" at first, but depending of the situation, it can make your life pure hell.

If you have 1 regular heart and 2 ichor hearts, Cosmo will no longer care about you during that floor because it's impossible to get another hit without dying, leaving you in a vulnerable situation for any complicated twisteds like Pebble or Goob. That's why I like to call him the very first twisted that won't kill you directly! I wanted to play with the fact that he's a supporter as a toon, so why not make a "supporter" twisted whose job is make your gameplay harder?? Maybe a new type of twisted?

"Will Cosmo also follow you if all machines are done like Glisten?" I'm still unsure of it, but to keep his "support" role, I suppose he would just accept his fate of being alone, because at least he can "help" others. (I WANT FRUITCAKE ANGST!!!)

How do you remove the ichor hearts? Again, still thinking about it, but just like Shelly's "Confused" ability, the effect should be gone once you reach the elevator. I thought about leaving the effect for 2 floors, but I dunno if this would be too OP or anything, so you can decide on this!

Now congratulations! You know who is twisted Cosmo and how to survive to one of the most annoying Twisteds ever!! /jk

I suppose that's all for now about him! He's still in development, but this is the main idea of him and his abilities!

And don't worry, I will be sure to cook some good old angst with this concept. Hope everyone enjoys it!!

ASKS ABOUT HIM ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Your JJK Fav + Why I think You're Single

hi so i did a version of this on tiktok way back when but i feel like i didn't have as great of an understanding of these characters and their respective fans as i do now. please keep in mind that this is purely my OPINION!!!! (my correct opinion)(im kidding)

Gojo - This one's a little hard because there are subsections of Gojo stans. You have the bad bitches, the coolest of the cool Gojo meat riders and then you have (incoherent screeching). I'm gonna assume you are the former here.

Y'all really love the idea of a partner, not actually having one. I feel like y'all will have talking stages a plenty, but when it comes to the nitty gritty y'all are not riders. Not that you don't want to be, no no you'd love to find your person but at some point friends you gotta realize that your person is gonna come with an ick or two you might not like. Relationships are about compromise. Real people simply can't be hot, rich, talented, strong, and funny all at once!! You're getting three of those at best.

Geto - I feel a need to disclose here that I am a Geto girly. I feel like most of us are chill, if not a bit odd // willing to swing.

Babes,,,, and im gonna touch ur clit when I say this-- Real life relationships aren't supposed to have intense cycles of highs and lows. Thats,, thats the cycle of abuse friends. Genuine, healthy connections actually aren't supposed to make you feel like you wanna rip their chest open and crawl inside. I know, i know you can't get attached unless you feel insane about them- but we have to stop this.

Nanami - Again, I feel like Nanami girls have a wide umbrella, but generally I think Nanami stans are very nice people. Nanami, for the most part, is the safest healthiest choice.

Put down the fuckin calculators. I am contacting cafe astrology as we speak and having them ban your IP from accessing their domain anymore. No, put your wallet away, we are not PAYING a psychic to tell you your most recent crush is not your soulmate. Y'all are over-analyzers, over-thinkers, and have a list of requirements for a partner that is twelve miles long. Maybe just talk to people?? Hmm?? Make a connection??

Choso - Oh, Choso stans,,,, loves of my life. Y'all are cool. Like genuinely actually fucking cool. Kiss me.

Okay, so I actually need you guys to see red flags as what they are. No, he doesn't coincidentally have 13 insane exes that won't stay out of his DMs. He did something to all of them. No, its not cute and sweet that he has to call his mommy and tell her goodnight and goodmorning everyday with kissy noises. That man is 24. No, Dominoes pizza did not text him and ask if he was up at 2AM. ur too optimistic, baby. I love you. Get a grip.

Toji - I have knocked noggins with more Toji stans than I care to admit in this fandom, however the ones I do vibe with are SUPER cool. Again, I feel like Gojo/Toji stans have that same thing. Im gonna assume you're the cool variety.

I feel like a lot of your relationships start purely based on sexual/physical attraction, and then get explosive bc yall didn't actually like eachother, you just liked the way the other one looked. I can definitely see this leading to maybe not abusive, but definitely toxic situations. and the thing is i feel like toji stans actually would make a BOMB partner but yall will settle for shitty people because theyre hot and then end up locking yourself in the bathroom and going through their phone while they bang on the door and scream from the other side.

Sukuna - This is the one I have the least interaction with on the day to day. Y'all fascinate me. Just out here doing you. I feel like most Sukuna stans are actually probably some of the sanest of the bunch, they seem to just slide in, post their fan works and dip. I respect it.

You can't fix him. no, no, you can't. stop trying. he's already grown. you cannot raise him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season❄Story B

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: this is Bucky’s side of the story.

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Um...” you drone dumbly at Peter. “I don’t know.” 

He stares back at you. He looks scared, “you don’t know?” 

“I’m sorry, I...” the raucous party rumbles on inside the walls. “I can’t think here.” 

“Hey, let me grab my jacket, we can talk outside,” he offers. “Wait, where’s your coat? You can’t go out like that?” 

You look down and realise you left your jacket inside. In fact, he took it. 

“Please, don’t worry about it,” you turn and step around the couple enthralled in each other’s drunken need. “I have to get out of here. 

“Wait,” Peter reaches for you and you dodge his grasp. “Won’t you just hear me out?” 

You shake your head as you charge towards the elevator, “just bring my coat when we work on the project--” 

“Please, you just don’t get it--” 

“No, I don’t,” you agree as you tap the button frantically. “I don’t get any of it. I don’t know why you invited me when you know I hate these things.” 

“I invited you,” he manages to latch on before you can step through the open doors, “because I like you.” 

You face him and wince. You touch his knuckles and frown, “yeah, but I think you like MJ and the other girls better.” 

“What? Other--” 

“It’s okay. I only ever wanted to get the project done. Really. You don’t have to worry about me,” you wriggle free of his grasp. “Have a good night.” 

“Wait--” 

You tap the close button and back up into the elevator. He pouts but doesn’t try to follow. Once you’re closed in by yourself, you hang your head and sigh. That’s enough college theatrics for you. 

You reach into your purse and take out your puffer. You shake it instinctively as you chew your lip. You lose yourself in trepidation. Should you have stayed and heard him out? No, you’re not stupid. You knew from the start that Peter is too good for you. Too good even as a friend. 

You stride out through the lobby and the night air hits you like a bus. Your teeth snap and chatter as you bring your puffer up and suck. You don't really need it, it's more of a comfort in the moment. 

You shiver and hug yourself tight, tucking the canister under your elbow as you put your head down against the wind. Peter's residence is on the other side of campus; yours its just outside the college perimeter. You could get the student bus to the gates and go from there... 

You look up at the silver moon, shining like a coin on black velvet. Your breath puffs in hot clouds as the bitter air bites through your stockings. As you continue on in indecision, looking out for the red signs that denote a stop, you hear footsteps that aren't your own. 

You slump down, tensing and you grip your puffer tighter. You have your keys. You can take them out, just in caee. You don't know that you could do much but the safety lecture replays in your head. 

Your puffer rattles as the steps speed up and you dodge out of the way with a squeal. 

"Hey," a gravelly voice crawls through the dark, "it's just me." 

You almost think Peter followed after all but the timbre is too deep. You flinch and turn to face the shadow. Half of Bucky’s face is lit by the moonlight, the angles sharper in the silver glow. 

"Oh, hi?" You stammer in confusion. "What--" 

"Are you out here without a coat?" He undercuts your inquisition.  

You nod and your teeth chatter audibly, "I... lost it." 

"Lost--" he mutters and clicks his teeth. He unzips his leather coat and shrugs out of the sleeves. "Can't have you wandering through the dark and cold." 

"I--" you stare at the coat as he offers it. "I'm fine--" 

"You seem it. You nocturnal or something? I keep finding you out at night." 

"No, I'm going home. There was... a party," you explain dumbly, your confusion muddling your sense. 

"I know this cold air isn't good for your chest," he shoves the coat at you again. "Please." 

You stare at him, taking in the cotton henley and jeans. He must be freezing. 

"I run hot. Serum," he shrugs. He flaps the jacket around you and hangs it from your shoulders. The soft fleece lining surprises you, his scent and warmth cocooning you. 

"Um... why are you... here?" 

"I keep asking the same thing," he scoffs. "You know, they just send me wherever." He turns to peer down the walkway, "so, this party? No fun?" 

"Mm," you hum and pull the jacket closer as you shield yourself against the bitter chill. "Not really my thing." 

"Not mine either," he begins down the pavement and you fall into step. 

You nod and walk on in silence. You're not sure you believe him but you also can't think of why he'd be hanging around if it wasn't for work. Your soles scuff loudly as he clears his throat. 

"You know, I shouldn't tell you. Since it's confidential, part of the job, right? But you really shouldn't be walking home alone," he says. 

"Oh, uh, I know, but... but it's not far. I was gonna find a bus," your hand shakes and the puffer rattles again. You bring it up from under the coat and take a breath.  

"You okay?" He brings his hand up to your back. 

"Fine," you cough. 

"I'm not trying to scare ya just looking out. A girl like you..." he looks over at you, "you're pretty small." 

You frown. You're well aware of all your detriments. Still, saying it aloud makes you shudder. He's right. Your only response to him sneaking up is to squeak like a mouse. 

"Alright, sorry, I'll be more careful." 

"You know, I don't think they know what to do with me right now," he snorts. "Sending me down here or whatever, so I could keep an eye out for ya. Walk ya home." 

"Huh? Oh no. I couldn't let you," you gasp. 

"I wouldn't mind. Trust me, I don't offer to do anything I don't wanna do," he chuckles. 

"I don't know..." you murmur. 

"Or maybe you're scared of me?" He suggests. 

You shake your head, "n...no. I guess... I don't wanna be a bother." 

"No bother," he shrugs, "spending time with a sweet girl? Would make patrol a lot nicer." 

You glance over then back ahead. You do feel better having him with you. You somehow don't feel as small yet smaller next to him. The twiddle of his fingers snags your attention. 

"You sure you're not cold?" You ask.  

He laughs again, "you know, I can't remember the last time worried about me being hot or cold. Doll, I'm just perfect. Exactly where I wanna be." 

[quicksilversnails]

The new Pristine Cut announcement trailer is so cool... I've watched it at least a dozen times at this point. But there's this one part I can't get out of my head: that final line from the Narrator.

"I—I refuse to let her get the last word in."

Banger voice acting and accompanying music aside, it's also an interesting character beat for the Narrator imo. He's framing the situation like a debate that the Princess is getting the last word in, and not as a situation with a single correct answer (Slay the Princess) the way He usually does.

I think it shows a little more self-awareness from Him than usual: a moment of hesitation and a quiet admission of His lack of control over your opinions and actions. If He really was able to convince you, it wouldn't matter if she got the final words, because you'd choose to slay her regardless.

It's also such an specific thing for him to focus on... He's not just stopping you from freeing her or stopping her from ending the world, He's stopping her from getting the last word in. Because that's usually what happens, right?

The game starts with His narration, His perspective. You need to slay her, or it will be the end of the world. But then you get her perspective, and as the game progresses, inevitably the Narrator falls behind as you and the Princess go through more and more loops that He can't remember and can't meaningfully respond to. You and She build a vastly sprawling dialogue across a network of lives, and meanwhile He's struggling to get his first words in.

And even when you discover your true identity and talk with him openly through the mirror, He inevitably shatters, and moments after that you talk to Shifty, who has much more space to argue her position. The Princess always gets the last word in.

...except for in this trailer. The sentimental moment with the base princess cuts abruptly to the Narrator. Usually when He talks about stopping you in-game, you have the power to resist or outright ignore Him, but here? The video just ends. He gets the last word in.

I just wonder, what does this mean for the Pristine Cut? Will there be a point where the Narrator really does get the last word?

[towriteloveontheirarms]

I missed talking to you (modern!bodyguard!Criston Cole x Reader)

synopsis: He was hired to protect you. However, he does so much more.

warnings: age gap, smut, p in v, fucking in the bathtub, semi public sex, afab reader

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bucknastysbabe

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

The room is dark, safe for the dim glow of a TV illuminating a small space around itself. The sound of the video that had been playing for the past couple hours is drowned out by growing frustration. The clock on your phone shows a more than ungodly time, that brings you to huff and turn around a little more forcefully than necessary, the bed protesting against the way you let yourself fall back on it carelessly. But to no surprise even that doesn't work and so, with a groan you force yourself to get up. The idea was that walking around and grabbing a snack could potentially help. Hopefully. And so you sneak out of the room to the kitchen, where you are met with Criston Cole, the bodyguard your father had hired for you.

“Shouldn't you be long asleep?” The tall man asks with a gruff voice.

He remembers you wishing him a good night, hours earlier. The clock showed past 4am now.

“Yeah, I should.” You chuckle bitterly. “I'm just gonna make some tea and then I'm gone again.”

Cole nods silently and continues to drink his coffee. His beautiful dark eyes are trained on your neck the entire time you wait for the kettle to cook the water inside. You can feel them like a warm sensation spreading through your back. You had long since stopped to wonder what might be going on behind the windows to his soul. Deciding that, whatever it may be, would forever remain a mystery to you. At times your friends had commented though that it looked like he wanted to eat you or that he looked ready jump in front of a bullet for you. The latter was easy to ignore. He was your bodyguard after all. The first was less so.

Your train of thought is broken up by the kettle whistling. Carefully you put it in a cup along with the tea. The cup gently warming your hands. It's comforting.

You turn to Cole once more and not again. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Is his quiet answer, accompanied by another short nod.

And with that you are off to bed.

Multiple days pass idly by without any further happenings, when your friends words get to you. He looks like he wants to eat you. No matter how much you try to lie to yourself, the thought itself, without being thought into much, is a rather exciting one. So, one evening while you relax in the bathtub, you work up the nerves to test that theory.

“Criston, could you come in here for a moment?” You call through the door in the loveliest voice you can muster.

“Yes, miss? Do you need anything?” His voice comes through a crack in the door immediately.

“Don't be shy. Come in. And how often have I told you not to call me miss?” The amused lilt in your voice is clearly noticeable.

“O-of course...” Even though you are entirely covered with foam his eyes stay focused on the ground before the tub. “What is it you may need?”

“It's not nice to not look at the person you are talking to, you know?” You put on a small pout. Though it comes as a surprise when he looks at you, the tan skin of his cheeks erupting in a dark cherry colour.

“My apologies, mi… My apologies.” He mumbles hastily, expectantly awaiting your answer to his earlier question.

“Criston, I’m bored.” You make a show if yawning and stretching your arms over your head. “Can you join me? Please?”

The plea is met with him choking on his own spit. Coughing violently, tears shooting into his eyes as he does so. “I think that would be most inappropriate. In fact, I´m not even sure if I should be in here right now.”

"Awww, come on? My father is not gonna find out and I could really use some company in here." Propping your chin up on one arm on the edge of the tub, you dunk your other hand just below the surface, pulling it out to flick the little droplets in the direction of his chest.

You see the resolve in his eyes, but it is slowly wearing thin. Not that it looked particularly strong to begin with. A bit of fluttering with your lashes and he is basically gone, looking like he is ready to pounce on you as the two of you hastily remove his clothes and settle in the tub together. Exchanging heated kisses as he lifts you into his lap, tongues exploring each other’s mouths as your hands commit every inch of the other´s body to memory. The loud moan as he enters you is muffled by one of his rough hands over your mouth, trying desperately to keep anyone from hearing what the two of you are doing. The water and foam slosh against the porcelain, yet the only thing able to swallow both of your moans is the bruising, breath stealing kiss that dogs up your mind like the hot water does the room. Your hands travel over his chest restlessly, eliciting a new deep groan every time your fingers brush against the sensitive peaks. At the same time Criston’s rough hands massage your lower cheeks, lightly spreading them as he guides you up and down on his hard length. All the while your wet chests rub against each other, a sheen of sweat covering your bodies from the heat in the bathroom and your exertion.

Your moans and groans echo through the room and bounce off the tiles, but the longer you go on, the less either of you can bring yourselves to care about being caught. As the knot in your stomach draws tighter, your hands go up into Criston's dark hair to pull his head back. Resting your forehead against his, your noses touching, yet neither of you moves in to close the kiss again. Rather just remaining like this as the movement of your hips grows more frenzied from enjoyment, breathing into each other with loose hanging jaws. The dizziness resulting from it seems to only add to your sensitivity. Criston's strong arms bring you down harder and faster on his lap, eliciting even louder sounds from your lungs and pulling tears of pleasure from your eyes. The salty droplets rolling over your cheeks before joining the water that encompasses the two of you. His body begins to shake uncontrollably and before you can ready yourself, the waves of an orgasm crash over him. Despite the tremors, Criston keeps thrusting into you until you join him in the throes of his ecstasy. Fucking you through the climax until your legs still. Only then he unceremoniously lifts you off him and sits you down in the tub and dries himself off, getting dressed to stand in front of the door to take up his duty once more. Your eyes follow his every move all the while, beginning to shiver as the now cold water seeps into the still warm skin. Neither of you dares to utter a word. Silently vowing secrecy as to what had just happened. A promise Criston keeps a little too well as he only speaks to you when entirely necessary from that moment on.

The party was boring you already. Your father had wandered off to network as soon as you had arrived about a half hour ago which had stretched to eternity. Sitting at the bar you nursed a glass of wine, staring holes into the fabric of space and time as you hoped it would be over soon. And while you were lucky enough to not be bothered by any of your fathers’ coworkers, the holes Criston Cole's dark eyes burned into you didn't go quite as unnoticed as he probably would have hoped. The warm sensation has become a sort of normality ever since your moment in the bath. Spreading out from the pit of your stomach, as the brown eyes roamed over your body in the fancy dress that you couldn't wait to get out of as soon as you came home. Downing the red contents of the glass, you stand up and wander off through the long corridors, knowing that the dark-haired man would follow.

Your mind is set on clearing up his avoidant behaviour. Once you are far away enough for the sounds of the party to have fainted to a quiet buzz in the back of your ears, you finally turn to the man that followed you like a shadow.

“Do you plan on never talking to me ever again?” You ask him with crossed arms and a huff falling from your lungs.

Frustration is etched onto both of your faces and filling the air around. “I´m sorry. I wasn´t aware my job required to also be your friend.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. If you regret fucking me so much, why didn't you just resign and safe everyone this stupid farce?” You argue back.

Promptly you feel the cold wall press against your front in an opposite sensation to his warm hand quieting you with a hand over your mouth once more, bringing back memories of your shared moment in the bathtub.

“Shhh or do you want anyone finding out?” He hisses into your ear, yet further down you can feel something hard press against your lower back. Pushing back against it elicits a low groan from the dark-haired man. A deep, throaty growl follows directly after as he finds the back of your neck and shoulders. Kissing and biting along your skin, his free hand tightly grabs your hair to pull it out of the way.

"Are you going to behave if I let go of your mouth, hm?" Criston's voice is barely above a husky whisper against the shell of your ear.

"Yes, I promise. I just need you so bad" you are just as desperate as he is.

In this state he could have asked almost anything of you and once his hand is removed from your mouth you would have agreed to it in an instant.

"Good girl... I'll make it good for you, but you have to be quiet. Can you do that?"

You can only answer in a hurried nod.

“Good.” Criston whispers.

The hand that was previously clamped over your mouth finds its way down your body and bunches up the fabric of your skirt until his fingertips brush against the lace of your panties.

“You knew this would happen, didn't you? Such a dirty girl.” he rasps, grinding his hips against you a bit harder. “Someone should punish you.”

“Please, punish me.” your voice shudders along with your breath.

When you turn your head to look at him your eyebrows are pulled down and drawn together in a pleading tone.

At the promise of a punishment your heart can't help but beat faster. Your lower lip immediately fits between your teeth, biting down hard to suppress the moan trying to escape as his palm makes harsh contact with your ass.

“Better be quiet. Otherwise, someone might find out what a dirty girl little miss perfect really is.” Criston taunts you.

The next slap is delivered even harsher, causing you to bite down on your lip until a very faint coppery taste introduces itself to your tongue. The hand rubs over the reddened flesh, soothing the stinging pain while Criston’s other hand snakes its way into your panties.

In response you press your behind closer to his front, feeling him groan in your ear as the movement of his hips speeds up. Instinctively you begin to rub against his fingers circling your clit. Whining from the stimulation. Stuttered breaths stumble from your lips as you desperately try to keep quiet. Only for your heart to be sent into overdrive as Criston lets go of your rear to turn your head and crash your lips together. Your hands claw at the wall, trying to find some purchase as your body gets rocked back and forth with every thrust against your backside. All the while thick digits enter your heat, curling upwards to play with your sweet spot immediately. The palm of Criston’s hand still rubs at your sensitive clit, making you see stars through half closed eyes, quiet moans get barely stifled by the hungry crashing and lapping of joined lips. Easily to be heard by anyone who would pass by you by chance, and they only grow more frantic. The air gets pushed out of your lungs entirely as you get trapped in tighter between the cold hard wall and the warm, tall body behind you, pushing you against it more. A wet tongue darts out to lick over the shell of your ear.

Criston begins to tremble with ecstasy first. A wet spot growing on the fabric separating your back from his front. Breathy groans fan hot over the side of your face and teeth nip at your earlobe. All of a sudden you freeze in bliss. Eyes rolled back and pressed tightly together, lips parted loosely in a silent scream all come together to a mask of unmistakable and unmatched pleasure. It feels as if your heart stops right along with your breath as waves of energy pulse through you, pumping the blood exceptionally fast through your veins to heighten your sensitivity as your whole body shakes and trembles in the little space between the wall and Criston's tall frame.

“I didn't regret what happened.” He whispers into the quiet, pulling your eyes from fixing your dress with a start.

“What?” The question is the only thing that comes to mind in the moment.

“I didn't regret it.” Criston repeats a little louder. “I just needed some time to process it.”

“Have you processed it now?” Even though you feel stupid for asking, the question is out before you can hold it back. “Because I would like to do it again if you are up to it.”

The dark-haired man nods. “I would like that too.”

“Good.” You smile at him, your eyes softening as they meet his. Together the two of you make your way back to the event, hoping your absence hasn't been too noticeable.

“I kinda missed talking to you.” You admit to Criston, the words barely above a whisper over your shoulder. A last quiet moment between the two of you, to make the rest of the night more bearable.

[mymarifae]

yesterday someone on strawpage asked me what made me go from a dr. ratio hater to a dr. ratio enjoyer and that response took me. four hours . to put together. so you know what i'm going to share my thoughts here too. here's why i like this ⬇️ jackass a lot now!!!!!!!!!!!

he's a tricky character! the first interactions we get with him are so off-putting and unpleasant that i feel like a lot of people are like "wow, this guy is a self-absorbed dick, i don't respect him at all. can he go away" - i know that was my reaction! and he IS a dick. but like. listen.

it's really, really, REALLY easy to misconstrue 90% of his words and actions. it doesn't help that he has the speech patterns of a haughty asshole. and it alsooooooo doesn't help that aventurine's stunt in penacony required orchestrating a "betrayal" between himself and ratio. i think some of the things ratio said during All That constitutes the bulk of most people's persisting dislike of him. So:

1. everything ratio did and said was exactly what aventurine asked him to. this was all pre-negotiated. i think aventurine's insecurities acting up and the way he started doubting whether ratio was truly just acting threw some people off as well, but there is plentyyyyyy of evidence that no, ratio does not hate him and was not waiting for the perfect opportunity to stab him in the back and rid himself of this "damned gambler" but i'll get more into that in a sec ok? i have another bullet point to make first. and it's important so read it carefully ok? promise?

2. any comments from ratio pertaining to aventurine's race were said to fuel the narrative SUNDAY was building in his head probably from the second he learned which ipc executive would be coming to penacony.

aventurine's plan hinged on sunday's prejudice. he needed sunday to think of him as a liar, a cheat, a silver-tongued honeypot - basically, every avgin stereotype floating around in the universe. he needed to invoke a sense of insult. how could someone so... despicable invade the family's sweet dream? he needed sunday to be so wound up over his presence in penacony that he couldn't resist the urge to put The Vile Avgin back in his place. idk THIS ("this" being the real world parallels of how the catholic church ethnically cleansed the rroma during the 16th and 17th centuries) is a whooooole issue in itself that i don't have the time to go into rn because we're supposed to be talking about dr. ratio. oops

anyway the important thing to understand is that ratio absolutely does not look down upon aventurine's heritage. he was acting, with aventurine's blessing, to feed into sunday's biases. and he wasn't even good at it 😭... like look at this exchange from 2.0:

one snarky comment from aventurine and his ass is immediately Apologizing. his ass that's supposed to be acting like he doesn't respect or like aventurine At All. in fact, aventurine's "even under the watchful eye of the harmony..." comment feels a liiiiittle pointed lol. it's a subtle warning to ratio! like, "hey, dumbass, did you forget we're being monitored at all times?? knock it off."

and like this isn't even the only time ratio breaks character and puts aventurine's plan in jeopardy. he learns nothing from this interaction because it's worse next time. lmao:

this stupid fuckignb note. is extremely significant in manyyyy ways so we have to talk about it. first of all, stopping to check on aventurine's condition and to say "tell me if you can't hold on any longer" RIGHT IN FRONT OF SUNDAY (basically, since the family was monitoring everything and a few minutes later we see one of gopher wood's birds hanging out in that general area)?? BRO

if he wanted to, this brief interaction would have been enough for sunday to call their bluff. and aventurine knew that; many of his lines here feel like attempts to redirect ratio into picking the act back up and to stop trying to help him.

next, the stupid fuckignb note's contents. yes yes the second half is very sweet and it's all anyone ever wants to talk about and i understand because it probably meant the world to aventurine especially in that moment but i need you to look at the first half

ratio gave aventurine the answer..? he. gave him the answer. you might be wondering why this matters at all and i'll just have to redirect you to his actions in 1.6, wherein he notably refused to give any answers and let asta, stelle, and like everyone else on the space station flounder, learn from their floundering, and - ultimately - Grow

ratio is a teacher through and through. if someone isn't one of those "geniuses" he wants nothing to do with, they're a potential student in his eyes. and everything that happened in mundane troubles was the space station's final exam, so to speak. his inaction wasn't out of cruelty or because he didn't care about the fate of all the people on the station - obviously he did, because he was the one using the phase flame to teleport the missing researchers to safety...

he posited himself as a safety net in case things went horribly terribly wrong, but he left most of it up to stelle and asta, because he believed in them. they had all the information they needed; they just needed to figure out how to utilize it. and if they failed, well... they had their safety net, and failure is a learning experience too. like, ratio wants people to learn. he wants them to have all the skills and knowledge they could possibly need to take charge of their lives.

the "geniuses" of the world, the head honchos, the impossibly rich 0.0001%? whatever you want to call them, there's always this Upper Level in society that can do things "ordinary" people can never dream of doing. their way of life is simply unattainable. ratio disagrees. he believes that anyone can do anything, if someone would only take the time to teach them. and he's chosen to be one of those teachers! instead of sitting on his ass and just theorizing about a better, fairer society, he's doing what he can to make a difference.

(not so self-centered after all, huh?)

so like. when you remember how much of a teacher ratio is, like this is a philosophy ingrained in his very bone marrow, it's a pretty big fucking deal that he just GAVE aventurine the answer he needed. it shows how concerned he was! and how guilty he felt about the part he had to play!!!! his words and actions were so far removed from his actual thoughts and feelings that he literally HAD to put the whole operation at risk to remind aventurine that he doesn't view him the same way sunday did, give him a safety net, AND let him know it's there. because at this point he felt that the plan was too risky and he cared too much

like honestly i think he hoped aventurine would read the note before putting on his "performance" and readjust accordingly. but then he didn't <3 and acheron had to remind him that it was still sitting in his pocket <3 if she hadn't said anything about it i don't think he would have opened it adgsmbfdndhfbkjjbg <3 oh i love a mess <3 anyway i think this serves as a suitable refute for the "dr. ratio was racist towards aventurine" sentiment that continues to fly around in some parts of the fandom, so? MOVING ON

i ended up talking about this already, but looking more closely at how ratio looks at the world was a biiiiiig part of why he grew on me So Much. it's all actually really noble and worth admiring. again, he just talks like a dick so it's easy to get confused LMFAO

he never received nous' recognition not just because he "cares too much" (as you'll see some people vaguely claim and then not elaborate), but because he fundamentally disagrees with the ideology that allows the genius society, the path of erudition, and even nous themself to exist.

there's like... a certain "threshold" of intelligence and knowledge that nous operates off of. the unknown, the near-or-actually-impossible to comprehend, things that the average person would never be able to grasp and would never care to try because it's simply beyond them - that's all nous cares about. but ratio doesn't believe this threshold exists. he doesn't believe in knowledge that cannot be taught. just to reiterate: he believes anyone can learn anything if someone teaches them, and they will care if they know someone will be there to teach them.

but if anyone can follow the footsteps of geniuses, then Genius is no longer a superior echelon of society. the end goal the erudition seeks is no longer "beyond the limits of mortal wisdom."

nous rejected ratio because he rejected them - long before he fully understood that he did so.

i think he only ever tried to seek their recognition because it was expected so highly of him. like, he was a prodigy child, absorbing new information and collecting phds at the speed of light. of course every adult around him was like, "oh yeah this kid's a future genius society member" and then they told him this. over and over. and he was like, Okay, so this is the path i'm supposed to embark on, and i must do it and i must succeed (or i'll let them down; i'll be a disappointment, a failure, a waste of resources and all the hopes and dreams everyone's pinned onto me.)

he spent a good few years trying and failing to conform to nous' surprisingly (ironically?) boxed-in mindset. but they ignored him, probably because they predicted that even IF they recognized him while he seemingly ascribed more closely to the erudition's beliefs, he would ultimately wander off and "waste" time trying to nurture the achievements of "mere" mortals instead. and then he had to sit there and be like ok i apparently fucking failed at the one thing i thought i was supposed to do with my life, What Now

and this results in the dr ratio we meet in game. still haughty, still has an attitude problem and a bad temper, still has a tendency to talk down to people (i think though at this point his condescending tone is more of a defense mechanism and a way of isolating himself from others before he is once again rejected from a "part" of society after trying, trying, and then Failing to conform to a box), but! considerably more humble and far more focused on others than himself. he cares, ok. he cares an awful fucking lot. he believes in the good of humanity. humanity's ability to do good, to grow... to find the answers to its problems, implement them, and save itself.

plus, "character that's very admirable and very kind and loving IN THEIR OWN WAY (<- this is important because ratio isn't any of these things in a traditional sense and that's another part of why i've come to like him; it's interesting) but is cursed to just sort of talk like a total jackass forever" is an extremely entertaining concept

one other thing that's less significant than realizing ^^^^^^^ALL OF THAT. GOD .but still played a big part in my warming up to him, is how fond he is of those stupid rubber ducks and the goofy poses his statues are in. and also how his very first introductory cutscene is him playing chess BADLY (😭😭😭😭) against himself. that speaks to a sense of whimsy and playfulness that he doesn't have much of an outlet for. which i find... cute. and an aspect of his character that's a ton of fun to play around with

IN CONCLUSION: i mean he's okay i guess

[merp-blerp]

TW: Discussion of sexual assault and suicidal ideation

I've been seeing some debate about Calypso and whether or not she sexually assaulted Odysseus and I want to throw in my two cents.

I'll say straight out of the gate that I don't currently like her much. I feel pretty icky about her personally.

Comparing Ody's behavior in Epic prior to "Love in Paradise" vs during the song feels so... clearly different. He seems very traumatized by whatever has been happening on that isle. It almost feels out of character for him to consider dying instead of fighting to get home alive like he had been, but putting myself in his shoes I can see how he came to that through what's textually known. He has been trapped on that isle for 7 years—that's nearly a decade, with no way to get out, everyone he knows and loves dead or far away with no way to know where he is or if he's alive. While I obviously would never think that's a good decision, I can see how he got to the point of wanting to end it. And if he's been sexually assaulted like he was in The Odyssey, I understand it more due to how that can warp a person's mental health.

I've seen some say, "Calypso is just a sweetie who doesn't know how to love properly" (paraphrasing of an actual comment I've seen). Even if she really just doesn't know how to care for a mortal, as many of the gods seemingly don't, I think she understands her power over mortals with her "Bow down now to the immortal Calypso" comment. She also understands that Odysseus doesn't want her, with the first part of her response to Ody's threats being "Oh handsome, you may try". She knows that he may try to escape by killing her (even though she can't die). Honestly, why would she feel the need to trap him if she didn't know good and well that he would want to escape her? She knew what she was doing was something that would make him want to run. Calypso being a goddess automatically gives their dynamic a power imbalance of course. Even though the assault is only implied, the fact that she's trapping Ody against his will, super infatuated by him, and still says "Soon, into bed we'll climb and spend our time", makes me feel like the indication is clear. What's stopping her from trying to have "sex" with him (sex isn't sex without consent)? She's already ignored all his declines. She seems to think that forcing her "love" onto him will make him love her. Yes, she uses lovey-dovey language so I doubt it would've appeared violent, but sexual assault doesn't have to look violent and the perpetrator doesn't have to appear aggressive. It's telling that I've seen some say, "Save that energy for Antinous" because Antinous is much more obviously bad, but this kind of thing isn't always obvious. That kind of assault is still extremely traumatizing whether it's sugarcoated as if it's love or not. It's dismaying that some reactions to Calypso bypass her potential assaulting or "She's weird, but she seems to care for him!" And since the sexual part of the assault is technically subtext (for now, who knows about later), I'll say that even if Calypso didn't sexually harm him, she still forces physical and verbal intimacy onto him and traps him so he can't leave. We see that. That's still assault. The only reason why I don't feel similarly about Epic's version of Circe is that her intent wasn't to have sex with Ody but to distract and throw him off with talk of sex so she could stab him as he's vulnerable; Circe never wanted to have sex with Ody in actuality. Calypso's intent was romantic intimacy and she didn't care if Odysseus said no, she completely bypassed it. Calypso saying "You're mine, all mine" feels as threatening as Circe's "I've got you" was meant to be.

Anything can change between now and the next two sagas. It could either be fully confirmed or denied that sexual assault took place. I actually don't expect either, as I don't think Jay would go too deep into such a traumatic concept in Epic, but then again I also didn't expect suicidal ideation to be brought up at all and it absolutely shocked me when it was, so I could be wrong. But whether it's confirmed or not, I don't blame any Epic fans who don't like Calypso or even hate her over what she did and what it's implied she did. It's icky watching some fans tell others they shouldn't hate Calypso because of this or that as if this isn't a sensitive and complex topic. It's creepy. I don't think we should tell people not to hate a character associated with sexual assault. The sexual assault might be subtext, but subtext is important and sometimes is implemented intentionally. Not every part of a story is going to be given to you at face value. Just because "Epic didn't say that" doesn't mean that the implication doesn't matter. People interact with stories in different ways, so you can disagree with others—no one can take that from you, but you don't get to tell someone they can't feel a certain way about a character. I don't like saying this because I really shouldn't have to put it in this perspective for it to be understood, but I can't help but feel like if Calypso and Ody's genders were swapped some people would treat this implication differently. Sexually or not she hurts him.

Normally I don't like taking lore from The Odyssey and automatically applying it to Epic, as Epic has changed a lot of rules from The Odyssey because Jay wants to tell this story his own story. For example, I personally choose not to assume Eury and Ody are brothers-in-law in Epic like they are in The Odyssey because that hasn't been stated in Epic so far. But to me, the implications of Ody's sexual assault are there enough for me personally to think that it might take place in both stories. Jay seems to want Epic to be accessible to many people, so it doesn't surprise me that this element of The Odyssey was brought up in a more subtextual/"hinted at" way.

Calypso is a very interesting character, maybe the most out of all the Epic antagonists so far for me, but we don't have to think of her as not doing anything wrong in order to enjoy that character, her songs, her cute physical character design, or Barbara Wangui's beautiful voice.

[The remainder of this post contains potential spoilers for the unreleased (to date) Vengeance Saga under the cut]

Another defense of Calypso I've seen is that in the snippets for "I'm Not Sorry for Loving You", Ody says he loves Calypso, but not in the way she wants him to. This could mean they're friends and therefore doubt about the sexual assault could be cast.

It's hard to assess this because the saga's not out yet, but it's worth remembering that abuse can come out of care, in a complicated way. You can care for someone so much you end up hurting them, usually out of wanting to control them. Calypso seems to fit that concept. And most Epic snippets don't give full context, naturally, so who knows why Ody says this at the moment. Maybe he means it, or maybe he's bluffing to guarantee he'll get what he wants (which is to be set free in this instance), like when meeting Athena, or to appease a god, like when "apologizing" to Poseidon in "Ruthlessness". And of course, victims don't have to hate their perpetrators if they choose not to. Odysseus can care about Calypso and she can still have hurt him really badly. Both of these things can be true.

The way I read it, Calypso doesn't love Odysseus like she thinks she does. She's infatuated by him and cares for him enough to not be obviously cold like all the other obstacles Ody faced initially are. She declares that she loves him as soon as he wakes up on her isle without knowing him at all. She didn't even know his name. The washed-up person on her isle could've been anyone and she likely would've "loved" them. Calypso only loves Ody because he stops her loneliness, not for who he is. When she begins to state that she loves him she doesn't even know him. Over the 7 years, she seems to have potentially gotten to know him a bit, saying "I know your life's been hard", but Odysseus himself asserts that she doesn't really know what he's been through. You can call someone (against their will, let me remind you) "my dear, my love for life" all you want, but that doesn't mean you love them. Ody's her first companion in years if not ever, of course she cares for him on a basic level. She won't kill him or let him jump off a cliff. But she doesn't love him or treat him like a human and obey his boundaries and wants. She treats him like an object or pet she owns and has to guard.

In "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" Calypso says that Ody is all she's ever known because she was abandoned. It's understandable that she would latch onto a living creature after being alone for so long. But that's not necessarily love, at least not to me. If I love someone I wouldn't bypass their refusal to do something. And I wouldn't trap them with me and not let them go, even when they're about to jump off a cliff because they see no way out. I'm not sure if Calypso means to bring malice, she at least says she "bring(s) no pain", but she does regardless or if she intends to. Calypso hasn't had anyone in her company, let alone someone to love, for so long, maybe in her whole life. That's why she doesn't know what love is, so of course when she catches fickle feelings for Odysseus she assumes that's love and has no clue what to do with her "love", as she admits in "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You". Calypso's actions are understandable, but that doesn't mean they're excusable or not abusive. What she does to him is understandable, but selfish and only serves herself, which isn't what you do to someone you love. Note that the way I use understandable here does not equate to forgivable, it just means conceivable. And her apology to him really waters down the magnitude of her actions, saying she "pushed" him, "came on too strong", and that her love might've been "too much" for Ody.

I apologize for this being such a long rant, but I wanted to cover all the excuses for Calypso I'd seen and speak my mind on why I think they're misguided at best.

[clintbartoncelebrationbash]

That's A Wrap!

The 2024 Clint Barton Celebration Bang has officially come to a close!

We have collectively created 10 fics, 10 pieces of artwork, and 2 podfics, all celebrating the greatest archer in the world!! There's something for everyone - whether you're a long time Clint Barton fan or just starting out; whether you like friendships, relationships, or fully-focused character studies; whether you like shorter snapshots or longer epics. Check out the full list below and send these amazing creators some love!

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Anchor Points

Fic by @widowsresolve | Art by @betrayedbycinnamon 37,935 Words, 1/1 Chapters, Teen Clint Barton & Barney Barton, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton &/ Natasha Romanov

Summary: For one glorious, gravity-defying moment, Clint felt like he was flying as he jumped from the swing.

It made him feel like he could do anything. It made him feel fearless and untouchable.

He needed more of that in his life.

--

The journey of Clint's life from a boy wishing for a better life in Waverly, Iowa to the man who becomes an Avenger and the relationships that helped to make him who he is.

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(hands) touching hands

Fic by @safelycapricious | Art by @auripigmentum 2,384 Words, 1/1 Chapters, Teen and Up Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

Summary: “And what name was on your wrist?” Coulson asks.

“Uh, none?” Clint says, scratching at his eyebrow.

“You have a burn scar,” Coulson says, carefully, like he’s talking to a bomber off of a ledge, “where your soulmate name was.”

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The Healing Properties of Air Vents and Hot Chocolate

Fic by @sishal01 | Podfic by @flowerparrish 4,002 Words, 1/1 Chapters, Teen Clint Barton &/ Bucky Barnes

Summary: Clint gets de aged and little Clint is who finally pulls Bucky out of the asset

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Once in a Lifetime

Fic by @betrayedbycinnamon | Art by @carcrash429 12,088 Words, 1/1 Chapters, Teen Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton & Laura Barton

Summary: Nobody knows exactly which Clint triggered the inter-dimensional dominoes, but it doesn't really matter in the end, because this one just needs to focus on his new reality. He discovers some things about himself along the way.

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the road not taken looks real good now

Fic by @sup3rbloom | Art by @rufferto9 5,660 Words, 1/1 Chapters, Teen and Up Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

Summary: Clint is going on a road trip after the events of End Game. He needs some time to clear his head before getting back into the thick of it. While on the road, Clint runs into someone unexpected, and finds himself taking care of none other than Bucky Barnes himself, which eventually leads to Clint falling in love a little along the way.

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some of us are just born with tragedy

Fic by @graffiti-bi | Art by @auripigmentum 14,424 Words, 4/4 Chapters, Not Rated

Summary: After the events of Freefall, Clint and Lucky flee to Waverly. No one's going to look for him in a town he hasn't thought of setting foot in for the better part of two decades. Plus when it's safe to head back to New York he can just sell the farm and be done with the place for good. There's nothing left for him or Barney there anyways. Right?

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Summer Seasons

Fic by @teeelsie-posts | Art by @nolanfa | Art by @carcrash429 23,285 Words, 5/? Chapters, Explicit Clint Barton/Dick Grayson

Summary: The autumn that Clint is 12 years old, for the first time that he can remember, something really good happens.

The autumn that Clint is 12 years old, he meets Dick Grayson.

OR A Clint Barton POV companion piece to Winter Quarters.

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Support You All The Way

Fic and Podfic by @42donotpanic | Link to Art @wyxan 10,012 Words, 6/6 Chapters, Explicit Clint Barton/Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt notices his Partner changes over time.

OR:

5 times Natalie struggled with gender and 1 time Clint realised who he really was

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That's So Fletch

Fic by @artaxlivs | Art by @rufferto9 10,115 Words, 1/1 Chapters, Explicit Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

Summary: Stop trying to make fletch a thing.

(I will not, nor will I stop shamelessly plugging 80s and 90s cult classics.)

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wrap your roots all around my bones

Fic by @carcrash429 | Art by @noxnthea 30,212 Words, 1/1 Chapters, Teen Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Summary: “What exactly do you think it is we’ve found?”

“Pieces of yourself that you thought were lost.”

-

Clint and Steve thought they knew each other pretty well after six months of working and living together. Turns out, they each have a lot of ghosts buried in their past, waiting to be uncovered.

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[bright-eyes-strawberry-lies]

Do you think that one of the reasons Luke and Thalia were so close on the run was that Thalia seeks out power/control, and Luke was willing to give her almost complete control over him? And a reason for why Thalia had her "I don't recognize you anymore" line aswell as suddenly turning so hostile being that she no longer had that control over Luke's actions?

Yes, I do think part of Luke's appeal for Thalia was that he did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it.

Maybe equally important was that Luke didn't stop Thalia from doing what she wanted. In Demigod Diaries, Thalia makes them follow a goat around for three days before Luke even asks why they're following it. When Thalia wants to go into Hal's house, Luke thinks it's a bad idea but he goes with her.

Luke's devotion to Thalia is such that she almost killed him - like actually, for real, with powers she can't control - and he stayed by her side. He didn't even blame her for it. Luke also took her to May's house when she needed help, a place it's pretty clear that Luke never meant to return to (and according to Hermes isn't welcome at).

Part of it may be her "fatal flaw" or whatever but I think it may be even simpler than that.

Thalia being power hungry for the sake of having power and that being her "fatal flaw" doesn't even really make sense because she really only uses what little power she has to take control of (or to save) her own life.

I hate talking about Beryl because she's so pathetic and a sorry excuse for a human, let alone a parent. But Beryl is a large part of the reason Thalia is how she is. She tried to baby-trap Zeus with Thalia and when that didn't work, she turned to drinking (or drinking more heavily, I guess). But like, she's another mortal parent who didn't want her kids (thinking about Frederick but like at least Beryl knew kids were a possibility the poor man). She didn't want Thalia and she didn't want Jason, they were just the side effects of getting to have Zeus/Jupiter for a moment.

Growing up with an alcoholic mother and an absentee father and a lost/dead infant brother (I dont remember what they did to Jason when they took him away but I seem to recall Thalia was either kept in the dark or lied to about it), Thalia had no control and no one who put her first in her life.

Luke was the first person to put Thalia before themselves.

Also it's pretty explicitly said that Luke is a gift (or a prize or a weapon, whichever you like) to Thalia from Zeus. Zeus led Thalia to Luke using the goat. Zeus led Thalia to her magic shield using the goat. Thalia actually says Zeus led her to Luke specifically.

As for her "this isn't you" line...aside from my opinion that it (Thalia siding with the Olympians at all) was spawned entirely because Chiron brainwashed Thalia...I think if Luke had been there (either because the rebellion never started or because he actually got to put the fleece on her tree himself and was there when she was birthed from the tree) then Thalia would have sang a different tune.

She was asleep and her dog was not there waiting for her when she woke up. That's out of character for Luke and Thalia would probably take it as a sign that he's no longer loyal to her personally (especially after Hal saying that Luke would betray someone and planting that idea in Thalia's head).

Now the puppy daddy got her is a full-grown dog with grownup dog teeth, and everyone is telling her that he's rabid, that he needs to be put down. And Thalia agrees.

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

ok sorry i'm just. ????

rant and spoilers ahead because i gotta yell into the void a little

first of and most of all. WHY does it sound like Solas front and center of everthing now??? Including both Inky's and Rook's stories/motivations???? Like okay i understand that Solas will inevitably be important in Rook's story and that's chill! We knew he was gonna play a part in this story! But why do they make it sound like half or Rook's purpose is just there to further Solas's story/character

and it quickly becomes clear that Rook will have their own unique relationship with Solas, as the Inquisitor did before them. I think what's been fun for us, too, is trying to build Rook as kind of almost a mirror of Solas.

Epler also acknowledges that the Inquisitor “obviously has a very personal relationship with Solas,” one that will need to be reckoned with in The Veilguard.

“And I'd say the Inquisitor, to some degree, feels guilty or responsible for what Solas is doing to the world. So while we're not going to get too far into details about what role they may play, they absolutely are somebody who is going to be interested and invested in the outcome of Rook's journey in The Veilguard.”

Why. are you telling us how our Inquisitor is supposed to feel about this?? When you play DAI you agree to play The Inquisitor, yes, but you don't agree to play someone who Cares About Solas. Like. Yes. I get that he is important. That much has been clear since Trespasser. And i'm ok with that! But how come you say "this is a game about Thedas and a world in conflict" and then also talk like this story is About Solas, Actually.

The other thing i absolutely do not get and do not like. At All

Those decisions are: who your Inquisitor romanced (with the options gender- and lineage-locked in the same way that they were in Inquisition), whether or not you disbanded the Inquisition, and whether you vowed to stop Solas or save him.

?????

No "who drank from the WoS"? No "who is Divine"? No "does OGB Kieran exist"? No "is Hawke alive" (Varric is there. SURELY he cares about this a lot)? No "what happened to the Mages & Templars"? No "were Wardens banned from the south"? Arent't those uh. Really Relevant Decisions???? WHY is one of the whole grand three (3) decisions that carry over if Inky wants to save Solas or not. I mean ok i guess i get it cus that was The Big Decision TM at the end of Trespasser but again. Why is that the big thing that matters. out of all the things that SHOULD matter.

There's not as many decisions you have made up to this point that have an impact on what's happening in Northern Thedas.

But it’s also part of the advantage of moving the setting up to Northern Thedas, Epler says, with the prior games in the series taking place in Southern Thedas, a significantly different region both geographically and sociopolitically.

Uh. Yeah they do. See above points and also some that i forgot probably. Northern and Southern Thedas don't operate independently from one another that's not how this works. Especially again with things like the WoS or the Divine decision. Also half our companions from the other games are from the north?? Like yes ok i know get what you mean kinda and it's true to an extent but not like this

for one, the team focused on choices that they felt they could react to meaningfully – not just a cameo or one-liner.

“There's never a sense of, ‘Oh, that decision doesn't exist.’ But maybe we don't touch on it in this particular title,”

The. Cameos and one-liners are what make it special though?? You can't say "We want those stories to be personal." and then say you're not making any of those small decisions matter. And i don't mean matter as in having A Big Impact TM but i know that a lot of us LIVE for those small tiny nods to previous decisions that make the world feel actually alive and connected. I understand that we can't have full on-screen cameos or questlines or whatever for every little tidbit but not even. idk. Background convos about what's going on in Orzammar? Gossip about Ferelden's monarch? A line from Varric about Bartrand? Dunno man. Again not to mention the Big Things like Kieran. or the Well of Sorrows consequences. Or the Divine (which. yknow. is directly relevant everywhere except maybe Tevinter??). Those were always the things that made importing a worldstate so charming! because you could see the small little impacts that you have on the world. The tiny things like the line about the pigeons in Ferelden in DA2 or a wartable mission with Wade and Herren in DAI are so so special to me

[corviiids]

hello if you are still accepting death note submissions, how about astarion

amazing submission thank you

verdict: no to both investigative questions. could astarion beat kira? probably, but not the normal way.

could astarion intuit the mechanics of the death note

no.

could astarion identify light yagami

no.

listen. i love astarion very much. he's very clever. but only in all the wrong directions. he has no ability to plan ahead. or really plan at all. he's too impatient to sit around and analyse clues. his plan for beating cazador was to walk into cazador's palace fuck around and find out. 10000% he couldn't beat light at his own game, so that's out, but honestly it might be more effective to beat light yagami NOT at his own game (like ending a chess game by just upending the chessboard) because L tried that and it didn't really work out.

what im saying is if the rest of the worm gang figures out that light is kira, astarion could probably beat him from there. but if you left astarion to his own devices and went "can you find kira" he'd give up.

i do think he might like, accidentally eat light or something though. that counts.

could astarion survive

ok here we run into some interesting questions. for the other ones ive been kind of waffling between whether im putting the character in the death note universe but borrowing their contextual abilities from their own universe, vs putting light yagami/kira/etc into the character's universe... i think due to baldur's gate being the way it is we have to put light in bg3, because astarion's backstory is so contextual and historical you cant really remove him from it while preserving all the relevant factors. what im talking about is two things

can light yagami figure out astarion's surname

what happens if you write an undead person's name in the death note

which are linked - because does light know that astarion is a vampire and therefore undead? the most straightforward way to find astarion's surname is to find his tombstone, but in order to do that light would have to know that astarion had died.

more to the point, the first rule of the death note is:

The human whose name is written in this note shall die.

where we run into TWO problems. the death note takes place in the 'real' world where there are only humans and obvious non-humans (ie animals and shinigami), so there's really no need to make any finer distinction.

but astarion is 1) an elf and 2) a vampire. so does the death note work on elves?? maybe? but an undead vampire ISN'T a human, not in the normal sense and also not in the extrapolated sense where you can assume elves and humans having similar personhood probably have the same rules apply. vampires are undead! that's very different! you cant kill a vampire with a heart attack!!! his heart isn't even working!!!

ALSO

You cannot kill humans at the age of 124 or over with the Death Note.

if we say aging stops when vampires die the first time, then astarion was 39, but then we're saying he's dead, in which case he probably can't die again. if we say aging continues as a vampire, then he's over 200, and he's excluded by this rule.

so i feel like astarion survives due to some stupid loophole.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 67

Oilstripe and Halibutdusk have recovered from birth and greencough, respectively. Meanwhile, Paleseed gets whitecough.

[Image ID: Waspdawn says to Paleseed, ““I know fighting whitecough can be awful, so I wanted to give you this tail weave I  made with Rabbitjoy to cheer you up.” Paleseed now has red feathers in her tail. Under her, it says + CONDITION: WHITECOUGH, + ACCESSORY: RED FEATHERS.]

(Waspdawn: 33, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Paleseed: 33, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

Rapidleaf talks with Honeybuzz about what it’s like to be a cleric.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz says to Rapidleaf, “It isn’t worth the pain.”]

---

Honeybuzz adjusted the long hunt pelt covering Tempestshade’s back. The black cat was asleep, one of their few peaceful naps as their leg deteriorated more and more. The thick snowfall outside sent cold air stirring between the wooden walls. Mosspounce and Carnationspeckle tirelessly tended to the fire outside the medicine den, making sure their fellow caretaker would not suffer anymore than they already did. Honeybuzz doubted it would do much, though. Whatever damage the silver jaw caused to Tempestshade’s leg, Honeybuzz and Troutpool only delayed its endgame. 

Honeybuzz groomed Tempestshade’s neck as his patient groaned softly. He muttered a soft prayer and turned to his pots and baskets of medicine. As he checked on the Clan’s supply of painkillers, paws trudged through the clumpy snow outside. Rattlepelt made her way inside, snow gathering in balls on her fox pelt. She slipped it off, seemingly unphased by the storm.

“Are you busy, Honeybuzz?” Rattlepelt asked. Honeybuzz glanced at Tempestshade.

“Not really,” Honeybuzz muttered. He peeked under the wraps on Tempestshade’s leg and sighed. “Are you staying warm, Rattlepelt?”

“As warm as I can be,” Rattlepelt sighed. She strolled by the shelves of medicine sitting along the sand and wood. “I’m hoping to find something for my mood. Something calming. Lavender, maybe?”

“Ah yes, lavender in the middle of winter,” Honeybuzz scoffed, mustering a pathetic laugh. His sarcasm soured at Rattlepelt’s sharp expression. Honeybuzz cleared his throat, further tucked Tempestshade under their pelt, and said, “There are a lot of herbs for mood. What exactly are you experiencing?”

“What am I not experiencing lately?” Rattlepelt sighed, undoing a leather lid from a pot and glancing inside. “You’re the cleric, I would think you’d notice.” Honeybuzz refrained from telling her actually I’ve been quite busy trying to save Tempestshade’s life, interpret a prophecy, and deal with the identity of my mother’s killer, but yes Rattlepelt, I’ve absolutely been studying your mood.

“Mood swings?” Honeybuzz guessed. “Anxiety?” Honeybuzz took the leather lid back from Rattlepelt and sealed the pot.

“The first thing, I suppose,” Rattlepelt huffed. “According to my mate and mothers, I’ve been acting… out of character lately. Not quite as lively as I used to be. You must have something that can bring me back to normal.”

“It might not be herbs you need,” Honeybuzz suggested. “Have you talked with Spikecrash or Paleseed?”

“I don’t need a mediator,” Rattlepelt grunted with a thrash of her tail. 

“You talked with Paleseed all the time when your mother was held hostage,” Honeybuzz pointed out. “Why the refusal?”

“It’s different!” Rattlepelt snapped. She shoved past Honeybuzz and studied the herbs on the other side of the den. “I don’t want others talking about my business. I’d rather deal with it on my own time. You really can’t spare a pot of something? I just need to chew on something so I don’t chew on someone’s head.” Rattlepelt stuck her face into a basket.

“I don’t want to waste herbs on an issue a mediator could resolve,” Honeybuzz said. “Can you please stop looting through our supplies? We need them for Tempestshade.”

“Oh, so you’ll give medicine to an omen but not to one of your Clan’s only artisans?” The curl in Rattlepelt’s lip was like an angry warrior scaring a trespasser from the border. She flung a paw toward Tempestshade’s weak form. Honeybuzz stood his ground; he was not his mentor. Only StarClan could order him around. Defiant blue pierced through angry copper. Rattlepelt’s eyes widened. She groaned, recoiling back to the shelves. “This is what I’m talking about! Can you please just give me something?”

“Rattlepelt,” Honeybuzz said, stressing every word, “I am not giving you a lick of medicine until you speak with a mediator.” Rattlepelt deflated, veiny ears falling. Her claws unsheathed for a moment, stabbing the packed sand floor. She quickly covered them with her tail. She marched to her discarded fox pelt.

“I’d better leave before I do something else I’ll regret,” Rattlepelt grumbled, sliding the wet pelt onto her back. “Good luck with Tempestshade, Honeybuzz.” Rattlepelt stared at the thick falling snow outside the den. She slunk into the gray light with nary a shiver, the fire outside bouncing off her red leather pelt. Just when Honeybuzz began to process the new problem lumped onto his back, Rapidleaf scurried inside. Really? Now, of all moments?

“StarClan, that’s cold!” Rapidleaf yelped, shivering violently. Snow tumbled off her back as she shook.

“I thought you were assisting Troutpool with a ritual,” Honeybuzz sighed, turning to his shelves and pretending to check the herbs in an empty pot. 

“We just got back,” Rapidleaf panted. “I… wanted to talk to you before Troutpool joined you again.” Honeybuzz sighed deeply, gathering his strength. He couldn’t put this conversation off forever. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something to the Clan. Why haven’t you?” Ugggghhhhh why did Rapidleaf have to do this to him?

“You said it was an accident, right?” he huffed, finally facing Scrubmask’s killer. “You didn’t even remember what happened until later. So I’m staying quiet. It isn’t worth the pain.”

“But I killed her,” Rapidleaf said, soft and slow.

“And we moved on!” Honeybuzz groaned, throwing his head back. StarClan, this was like talking to a kit. “Mom took a new mate. My brothers and I graduated. Everyone thinks a Witch Hunter did it. Why would I hurt them all over again with this?”

“Because I killed her,” Rapidleaf said again, emphasizing each word, sinking in Honeybuzz’s strong presence.

“If you want to be punished so badly, confess to a codekeeper!” Honeybuzz snapped. “I am a cleric. I help my Clan. This, what you’ve done? Knowing that now will help no one. Don’t pretend to care about the right thing when you’re just a coward.” Rapidleaf bowed her head low. The bright fire outside turned her fur dark red like dried blood.

“If that’s what you think is right,” Rapidleaf muttered.

“Do your job and we won’t have any problems,” Honeybuzz growled, his golden face burning like the sun in the fire glow. He turned back to his empty pots and said, “Get warmed up. I don’t want to have to treat you for shivers.” He kept his ears perked as Rapidleaf’s paws crunched through the snow. He only looked back when he was certain she was gone. 

Honeybuzz groaned loudly, trudging to his nest and flopping into it. If he had to take this secret to StarClan, he was more than happy to do so. It was just easier. Now he only had three problems to deal with.

Well, that wasn’t true, even if he didn’t realize it yet. He had two problems.

Because Tempestshade had stopped breathing.

(Honeybuzz: 15, male, cleric, daring, constantly fiddling with tools)

(Tempestshade: 28, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

(Rattlepelt: 50, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

(Rapidleaf: 85, female, warrior, lonesome, prophecy interpreter)

Tempestshade dies from their mangled leg. Mosspounce tells fond stories of his littermate while Trumpetspore mourns and Scaleripple tries to push his feelings aside.

[Image ID: Scaleripple watches Trumpetspore and Mosspounce leave. Under him, it says + CONDITION: SENSORY OVERLOAD.]

---

James quietly loaded Tempestshade’s body onto his back as dawn glimmered through the snowfall. Troutpool gave up an old vole pelt from her nest so Tempestshade’s crusted, wounded leg could be covered during the funeral. The leather wrapped around their leg and concealed their deadly injuries. Dried herbs poked out from under the leather, hiding the decaying smell. 

Scaleripple could still smell it, though. He smelled every decomposing muscle and faded blood-scent that clung to Tempestshade’s pelt. He could smell Trumpetspore and Mosspounce’s sorrow, still strong after a night at vigil. He could smell the concoctions and ointments the clerics used at first to stop Tempestshade’s deterioration, then to soften the end. He could smell death clinging to the snow that drifted over camp.

“Tempestshade would probably say something silly now about how we should just talk to Oilstripe if we miss them,” Mosspounce scoffed, swallowing hard. Trumpetspore laughed softly, leaning hard into Mosspounce. The laugh was like claws tearing at Scaleripple’s ears.

“Do you three have something to mark their grave?” James asked, shifting awkwardly with the added weight.

“I do, I do,” Mosspounce sighed. He stood, groaning and stretching his back. “One of our bowls broke a few days ago. With how much Tempestshade cooked, I want to use that as their marker. What do you think, Scaleripple?”

“Fine,” Scaleripple said. He stared at the spot where Tempestshade’s body had laid all night. The snow formed a hole in their vague shape.

“Scaleripple?” Trumpetspore peeked around her brother. “I know we don’t talk much, but… thank you for being there for Tempestshade. Mosspounce and I can’t say enough how much that… I’m sorry, I can’t.” It took all Trumpetspore’s effort to get even those few words out. Mosspounce groomed his sister, purring through the pain.

“It’ll be a long walk with this snow,” James sighed. “Let’s get on our way.” Trumpetspore and Mosspounce followed James, but when Scaleripple stayed seated, Mosspounce stopped and glanced back.

“You two bury them,” Scaleripple said. “Be alone with them.” No one had any energy to argue; Mosspounce nodded after a moment and rejoined Trumpetspore on their slow procession to the graveyard. Scaleripple stayed trapped in the scent of death. It clung to his fur like salt. Scaleripple closed his eyes.

“Scale?” Weedfoot shuffled across the thick snow, catching fat snowflakes in her fur. The new scar she sported around her ankle made Scaleripple’s paws burn just from its look. Her whole body sagged like a dying weed as she slipped beside her son. “Do you need me today?”

“I’m alright, Mom,” Scaleripple said. Weedfoot’s pelt was a whisker’s length from Scaleripple’s, but it felt like she was laying on top of him. 

Scaleripple needed that.

“I would have thought you’d go with the others to the graveyard,” Weedfoot noted. 

“I didn’t want to,” Scaleripple said. His gaze was drawn back to the hole.

“Well, I won’t be sending you on any patrols for the next day or two,” Weedfoot explained softly (StarClan bless her, finally a soft voice for Scaleripple’s strained mind). “I know your sister has whitecough, but if you need someone to talk to, Paleseed can listen.” 

“I’d rather go on patrol,” Scaleripple said. His expression remained unchanged, neutral and stuck on the hole.

“I don’t think you’re truly alright, Scaleripple,” Weedfoot mumbled. She got between Scaleripple and the place Tempestshade once laid. Scaleripple blinked wildly, trying to focus on his mother’s form as his vision blurred. He knew what was coming as soon as his ears began to ring.

“Do you want the truth?” Scaleripple asked. The tensions in his shoulders made his muscles burn.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Weedfoot hummed softly.

“No, it isn’t,” Scaleripple said. There was no intended malice, yet his tone still struck at Weedfoot like a rat bite. The ringing in Scaleripple’s ears grew louder. “There’s a lot I don’t understand that others do. I understood Tempestshade, though. They understood me. Now no one understands me.” 

Scaleripple’s eyes could not focus, even with Weedfoot standing right in front of him. Color and shadow melted together like beeswax in a pot. His skin burned. Weedfoot said something, but her words were just like the camp; melted, dissolved, burning. No one understands. No one understands. No one understands No one understands No one understands No one understands NO ONE UNDERSTANDS.

Some part of Scaleripple’s mind heard his Clan gather around him, wondering just what he was muttering. He could see worried faces peering into his huge blue eyes, even if he had no way to react to them. Despite all that, all he could do was stare at nothing, pressure building in his chest, sinking deeper and deeper into himself. The caring words of his Clan blurred together, yet each phrase was clear as air, layering over the next in a bloodbath of screeching bird song.

“Scale, come on now, what are you saying?”

“We should get him out of camp.”

“StarClan, does everyone have to stare at him?”

“Scaleripple, it will all be okay.”

“I understand you, Scaleripple!”

“Leave him alone, this doesn’t concern you.”

“How would you feel if we swarmed you after a vigil?”

“We may not understand you, Scaleripple, but we love you.”

If only Scaleripple could thank the soft, careful voices that slipped through the noise. Perhaps later. There was nothing he could say now. Only collapse into the spiral of his own, odd mind.

(James: 143, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Tempestshade: 28, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

(Scaleripple: 20, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Trumpetspore: 28, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter

(Mosspounce: 28, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Weedfoot: 116, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

Weevilkit and Yarrowkit make snow lumps at the entrance to camp.

[Image ID: Weevilkit and Yarrowkit build a snow cat as Wolfkit approaches. Yarrowkit says, “It looks a bit like a cat!” Under her, it says + PERMANENT CONDITION: ONE BAD EYE. Under Wolfkit, it says + CONDITION: BRUISES.]

---

Weevilkit couldn’t feel her nose, but she didn’t care. She rolled snowballs across the camp clearing toward Yarrowkit, who studied the large snow lump she and Weevilkit had cobbled together. The many, many kits of RippleClan had woken up from their sunhigh nap and now ruled the camp, running and screaming through the snow, entertaining one another. Yarrowkit protected the snow lump from her rampaging littermates, leaving light paw prints in its sides. Four snowballs sat along the corners of the lump like fat, lazy paws. 

“Is this big enough?” Weevilkit groaned. She shoved her giant snowball at Yarrowkit with one last mighty push. Yarrowkit trotted around the snowball, gauging just how big it truly was.

“Perfect!” Yarrowkit chirped. “Help me lift it on!” Yarrowkit and Weevilkit stood on either side of the snowball. They tucked their heads under their mound, snow crumbling into their eyes. Necks straining and muzzles aching, they lifted the snowball off the ground and threw it onto the mound. The bottom chunk of the snowball plopped off, making Yarrowkit and Weevilkit shriek.

“Pack it in!” Weevilkit cried. She and Yarrowkit scooped up snow and shoved it under their lump’s new head. Eventually, the lump no longer threatened to fall off. When Weevilkit was certain the structure was stable, she made two smaller snowballs and stuck them on the lump’s head. She bounced off the lump and admired it from the back.

“It looks a bit like a cat!” Yarrowkit chirped.

“Snow cat!” Weevilkit cheered, rearing onto her back legs like a horse.

It was at that moment that something strange occurred, something Weevilkit would not fully understand until she was older. In fact, in the moment, it felt more like a daydream than anything else, something that had come to her in the night and performed for her once more under the light of day. Yet the way she would describe it matched no daydream or typical trick of the mind.

On the other side of camp, Wolfkit eyed a snow pile a few tail-lengths behind Weevilkit. Harvest helped Robinkit and Currentkit build a mountain to scale and dig into like moles. As Weevilkit watched her sister, the gray kit’s form flickered. She stayed where she was, staring hungrily at the mountain, but another Wolfkit charged forward, slipping out of her body like a ghost. There was a fogginess to this second Wolfkit, a transparent and shiny nature that seemed like Oilstripe’s tales of StarClan cats. The real, solid Wolfkit did not react to this secondary form running out of her chest, unseeing.

But Weevilkit saw it all.

This ghostly Wolfkit darted past Yarrowkit. A misty version of Yarrowkit overlapped her living form, fur spiking and lips curling. Two cats existed in the same space, one in the other, making Weevilkit’s head hurt. Weevilkit watched as the other Wolfkit left deep pawprints behind her, even though the snow was no more disturbed than it had been. The other Wolfkit threw herself at the snow mountain. Harvest, Currentkit, and Robinkit gained their own foggy forms, stepping away from the ghost of the mountain. The nonexistent Wolfkit slammed into the mountain, but rather than the mountain collapsing into light and fluffy clumps, her head made a hole in the stiff snow. Wolfkit’s ghost collapsed at the base of the mountain. Weevilkit blinked, and the ghosts were gone.

And then it happened again.

Wolfkit darted past Yarrowkit. The brown and white kit jumped, fur spiking and lips curling. Harvest, Currentkit, and Robinkit hurried back as Wolfkit threw herself full-speed at the snow mountain. She face-planted into the unyielding snow and stumbled back with a loud groan. Weevilkit blinked again, this time shaking out her snow-dusted pelt.

A smart kit would have questioned that strange sight. However (and with no disrespect intended), Weevilkit was not smart.

“Are you okay?” Harvest asked, trying to force back her laughter at the face-shaped imprint in the snow.

“My face hurts,” Wolfkit grumbled, pulling herself out of the snow.

“That’s what happens when you run into a mountain,” Robinkit said matter-of-factly.

“It’s okay,” Currentkit promised. He slipped beside Wolfkit as the gray molly whimpered softly and rubbed her sore face.

“Wolfkit!” Yarrowkit snapped. “Don’t run past me like that! That’s my bad side!”

“Your bad side?” Weevilkit scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“You know!” Yarrowkit whined, smoothing out her fur. “Your bad side! Your dead eye! How would you like it if I scared you like that?” Weevilkit cocked her head so far to the side, her neck hurt.

“I don’t have a dead eye,” Weevilkit said. “How can an eye be dead?” While Robinkit and Currentkit teased Wolfkit, Harvest appeared behind Weevilkit.

“Mom, can you tell her about your dead eye?” Yarrowkit huffed. “Which one is it?”

“Yarrowkit, I don’t know what you’re saying,” Harvest said softly, getting to her daughter’s level. “Is something wrong with your eyes?” Weevilkit peered closer at Yarrowkit’s face. There was a droopiness to her right eye. Her pupil was huge compared to her other eye. A green haze covered the eye, depriving it of its usual sharpness. Harvest leaned in as well, staring intently at the right eye.

“Wait,” Yarrowkit gulped, “is your other eye supposed to do something?” Harvest sat up, swallowing hard. She buried her twitching tail under her flank.

“Yarrowkit,” Harvest said, “can you come with me? I want you to talk to Troutpool and Honeybuzz.”

“But I’m playing,” Yarrowkit huffed, placing a paw on the snow cat.

“You can go back to your game afterward, I promise,” Harvest stammered. “Now come along. You need to tell the clerics just what you’ve told me.” Yarrowkit deflated as Harvest looped around her and nudged her toward the medicine den. She glanced at Weevilkit as she passed, turning her head far to see her with her one good eye. 

Now, truth be told, while she would have to train around it, Yarrowkit would get along just fine with a bad eye. That was not what Weevilkit should have been concerned about.

(Weevilkit: 2, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)

(Yarrowkit: 2, female, kit, noisy, stares at fire)

(Wolfkit: 2, female, kit, polite, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Harvest: 55, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

(Robinkit: 2, male, kit, unruly, avid play-fighter)

(Currentkit: 2, male, kit, polite, constantly climbing)

Anchovykit wakes up with a splitting headache and can’t get out of his nest.

[Image ID: Anchovykit says to Tempestshade, now a ghost, “Do you need help?” Under him, it says + CONDITION: SEVERE HEADACHE.]

---

It wasn’t fair. All the other kits were playing in the snow, screaming and cheering at their winter fun, kept warm by the fire crackling between the elder’s den and the warrior’s den. Anchovykit should have been out there. He had to go out there and play! He was missing out on all the joys of the day!

When Anchovykit stood at the edge of the nursery, looking out over camp, his eyes burned. His head smacked him about like an enemy warrior. The snow intensified the pain. He squeezed his eyes as tight as he could, trying to fight off the headache. Honeybuzz had told him to just rest, but how could he rest when everyone else was having fun?

But then again, with a headache like his, Anchovykit couldn’t play. Especially since it made him see things.

The headache added an odd sheen to the camp. A soft sparkle danced around the medicine den like stars in the day. Weevilkit and Wolfkit, laughing over their snowbound antics, shared in this sparkle. Oilstripe, who told her kits stories by the Shiprock, had a glow to her eyes that made Anchovykit’s pelt itch. Even though the shine clawed at his eyes, Anchovykit found it hard not to look at the odd ways his head toyed with him.

Still, the soft awe of the camp was nothing compared to the sheer horror of looking at Rattlepelt. The furless artisan watched the Clan from the corner of camp, using her fox pelt as warm flooring against the snow. Her single white ear twitched casually as she watched Weedfoot return from patrol with Lavendertwist, Waspdawn, and Puddlewhisper. Her claws poked through the snow as Weedfoot laughed at one of Lavendertwist’s jokes. She groaned softly, forcing herself to look away from the family. 

It wasn’t her gray skin or odd behavior that made Anchovykit nauseous, however. Slime covered Rattlepelt’s smooth skin, slick yet dull like mud. Her legs grew black the farther down they went. Slushy pools of black gunk collected at her paws. She had become a river of dark mud, her body as its source. And then there were her eyes. Gone was the warm and cheeky copper shine everyone found so familiar in Rattlepelt. Instead, bright yellow eyes burned with unhidden, unquenchable hatred, a hatred that threatened to seep into every wrinkle and fold of Rattlepelt’s bony body.

Anchovykit ran back into the quiet shadows of the nursery. Headaches were terrifying! He crawled into his empty nest with a whine. He shoved his muzzle into the moss and leather. The sooner he took a nap, the sooner this headache would go away, and the camp would look normal again. He breathed in the leftover scent of his mother and littermates. He was always safe with them. They would protect him from the horrors of his headache.

“You’re a funny little kit, aren’t you?”

“Clammask, go away,” Anchovykit whined through the moss.

“I sound like Clammask? Huh. Isn’t that funny!” 

Anchovykit wasn’t in his nest anymore. He opened his eyes to blackness below. It was not pure darkness, though; tiny stars glimmered far, far away. The floor matched the ceiling. All around Anchovykit, Silverpelt shone in small white specks. There was no ground for Anchovykit to stand on, but regardless, he stood. He could feel something warm and soft under his paws, but when he lifted them, there was nothing but Silverpelt underneath. His mother had told him that on some nights, Silverpelt glowed with a myriad of colors, but all he saw now was black and white. The sunless land was shockingly warm, warm in the way Anchovykit imagined summer to be, that beautiful season he had yet to see. The clawing, tearing pain in his head was now a small worm, wiggling about behind his eye. Anchovykit stated at his pelt. There was no source of light, but his body was not covered in shadow. There was a dullness to him, something in between light and darkness, the pure essence of his colors untainted by the sun.

“Weird dream,” he muttered.

“I don’t like involving a kitten like this, but they shouldn’t have to suffer for long.” Anchovykit turned around. A blue-gray molly stood behind him. Dark, swirling stripes like water criss-crossed her starry pelt. A moth’s wing hung delicately behind her ear in an impossible fashion, as though the moth had perched itself just on the stranger’s head. 

“You look like Weedfoot,” Anchovykit gasped.

“I should,” the stranger laughed. “I’m her daughter! My name is Ripplefern. I’m a member of StarClan, and I need your help.” Anchovykit’s eyes widened. His mother had grown up with second-paw tales of StarClan’s power, while Anchovykit and his littermates got to hear of their glory straight from the mouth of RippleClan. Now Anchovykit was one of those blessed souls that got visited by the ancestors in his sleep, even if he wasn’t a cleric! He kneaded the invisible ground, purring.

“Am I important?” Anchovykit purred, eagerly running up to Ripplefern.

“More than I can explain now,” Ripplefern sighed. “I have a friend who will spend a long time alone if you don’t help them. Do you think you can help my friend?”

“I’ll try,” Anchovykit promised. Ripplefern purred, her blue eyes growing soft as down.

“Follow me.” Ripplefern turned gracefully and wandered deeper into Silverpelt. Anchovykit stayed at her side, eyes scanning the strange land around him. If this was StarClan, it was really empty!

“Where are all the other StarClan warriors?” Anchovykit asked.

“They wouldn’t be here,” Ripplefern explained. “Sometimes, when a warrior dies, they don’t go straight to StarClan. Sometimes they need to wait a while as we sort through some problems. This is where they go to wait.” Ripplefern looked up into the endless speckled black. “My friend was born with a problem. When they died, the problem sent them here, and they can’t leave until we fix it. But it’s not a problem StarClan can fix alone. My friend could be here for moons if we got help the normal way. But we’re lucky. You’re here.”

“What’s the normal way?”

“Rituals, visions, other calls for assistance from the living clerics. Being alive makes you special.” Anchovykit walked a little taller. He was special.

A figure appeared in the distance. It was hard for Anchovykit to see them with their black fur. Anchovykit’s paws grew heavy when he saw black mud clinging to the figure’s legs. He only managed to recognize them when he saw their dark green eyes.

“Tempestshade!” Anchovykit gasped, leaving Ripplefern behind. “Do you need help?” Tempestshade gawked at the kit. They still looked alive; a little hazy, perhaps, but alive. Anchovykit had only known them with their leg bandaged, but now it was strong and free of scars. They could stand and look down on Anchovykit, just as confused as he was. 

“Do I know you?” Tempestshade asked.

“He was born while you were fighting your death wounds,” Ripplefern explained. Tempestshade only just noticed Ripplefern. They grew as still as they had been when their body laid in camp for vigil. 

“You look better than when I saw you last,” they managed to gulp.

“Anchovykit is here to help you,” Ripplefern said. “Do you see all that black ichor, Anchovykit? I need you to rip it off, like when you tear into a fish.” Anchovykit sneered at the ooze on Tempestshade’s legs. He was supposed to touch that? With his mouth? What could he even hold onto? It was mud!

“Why?” Anchovykit groaned.

“You’re the only one who can,” Ripplefern said. Hmm. Well, if StarClan asked it of him…

Anchovykit peered at the ooze. Maybe if he just bit the whole paw…. He shut his tiny jaws around Tempestshade’s front leg. Tempestshade hissed and smacked Anchovykit.

“Alright, not like that,” Ripplefern laughed. “Just… pretend you’re removing the lid off a pot. Peel the ichor off like you peel off the leather.” Oh, that made much more sense! 

Anchovykit spat out the gunk that stuck to his teeth. He took a big breath and dug his fangs into the black ichor. He pulled at the ooze with a violent, suctioning sound. It was like a paw trying to rip itself from the mud. There was no ground to gain a foothold on, but Anchovykit dug himself in regardless. The ichor stuck to Tempestshade like some many-legged monster of the deep. Anchovykit dug deeper into the ooze and pulled harder. As it stretched farther and farther from Tempestshade’s leg, it began to take a new form. Feline ears poked out of the black. A slender form took shape, its scruff in Anchovykit’s grasp. 

It was a cat, utterly soaked in the gut-heaving black ichor, no bone or pelt to speak of. It wasn’t much smaller than Anchovykit himself. Anchovykit dropped the mewling creature and gagged.

“What is that?” Anchovykit groaned. The creature squirmed and twitched like a newborn, making the worm in Anchovykit’s skull spasm once more in a headache.

“The power of the Dark Forest made manifest,” Ripplefern said, her tone low and serious in a way Anchovykit had never heard anyone speak in his short life. “This is Tempestshade’s curse in physical form, the evil energy that struck out against those who got too close. Your special sight shows you their influence, and the influence of the stars. You are the one who can pull them from idea and ethereal being to something tangible.”

“Huh?” Anchovykit said.

“Strike it along its neck,” Ripplefern sighed, waving her paw at the creature. “Now that you’ve pulled the curse off Tempestshade, you can fight it.” Ripplefern needed to get better at explaining things. Anchovykit may have been young, but he understood what it meant to fight like a warrior.

Anchovykit jumped onto the creature with a yowl more suited to a play fight than true battle. The pathetic thing was no match for a harsh wind, let alone Anchovykit’s tiny fangs. He shoved the creature onto its back and bit into its neck. The creature stopped squirming at once. As Anchovykit tightened his jaw, the monster’s ichor dripped through the invisible floor. It tumbled through the starry abyss below, everfalling, never landing. Piece by piece the creature melted away until Anchovykit’s teeth smacked together with nothing left to hold.

“I just fought a Dark Forest cat,” he gasped softly. His flank wiggled as he cheered, “I fought the Dark Forest!”

“In a sense,” Ripplefern chuckled.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised I didn’t go to StarClan,” Tempestshade said with an awkward scoff. “Can’t really let in an omen, I suppose.”

“It’s not your fault the Dark Forest latched onto you,” Ripplefern said. She slowly approached the black tabby. Anchovykit stepped back before he even thought to give them room. “You did well with what you had to bear. But now you don’t have to wait here anymore. You can come with me.” 

Ripplefern’s nose touched Tempestshade’s forehead. A spark danced where skin met fur. Stardust shimmered over Tempestshade’s head. A glittering wave coursed over their pelt. Brilliant stars danced along the stripes in their fur. The gunk that clogged their paws was now a shimmery, sparkling mist. Tempestshade gawked at their new form, lifting each paw to study the shine.

“Oh,” Tempestshade muttered.

“StarClan is excited to taste some of your food,” Ripplefern purred, bunting Tempestshade’s shoulder. “There’s a lot I want to talk to you about.”

“I just want to know how Moss and Trumpet and Scale are doing without me,” Tempestshade sighed, touching noses with Ripplefern. They paused for a moment, then stepped back. “Actually, no, that isn’t the only thing I want to know. What’s his story?” Tempestshade looked at Anchovykit.

“I’ll tell you in private,” Ripplefern promised. She set her tail on Tempestshade’s back.

“Aren’t you going to tell me?” Anchovykit asked, marching up to Ripplefern. “I don’t know my story either!”

“I’ve shown you what you can do,” Ripplefern sighed, shaking her head, “but you’ll have to work some things through yourself. I’m afraid StarClan can’t do everything for you. Just remember what I taught you, Anchovykit. Be good to your mother.” Ripplefern touched her nose to Anchovykit’s head. It was as cold as the winter chill blowing off the ocean.

When Anchovykit woke up, he still had a raging headache, but that was nothing compared to the complete and utter confusion that made his vision spin.

(Anchovykit: 2, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Rattlepelt: 50, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

(Ripplefern: 18, female, historian, charismatic, talented swimmer, good fighter)

(Tempestshade: 28, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

Billowkit can’t stop sneezing.

[Image ID: Billowkit asks Troutpool, “So I’ll be sneezing forever?” Under him, it says + PERMANENT CONDITION: ALLERGIES. In the back, Currentkit calls, “Let’s see what makes you sneeze!” Under him, it says + NEW SKILL: HAS LOTS OF IDEAS.]

(Troutpool: 28, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Billowkit: 2, male, kit, bossy, active imagination)

(Currentkit: 2, male, kit, polite, constantly climbing, has lots of ideas)

[like-yknow-nyah]

you know what isn't appreciated enough? the ways in which tsukishima takes after sugawara senpai~

it's not really emphasized by the framing of the anime like other character dynamics, but there are some pretty consistent tell-tale throughlines that hint at how much tsukki respects him. the obvious start is that tsukki never sasses or talks back to suga - sure, this is generally pretty true of all the third years, but i think he seems especially yielding to suga. suga even gets to hit him and mess up his hair, and tsukki will respond to him with reserved frustration but none of his usual irony - at worst, a very earnest "could you please stop?" he certainly has thoughts about it, but he actually exhibits resraint with that sharp tongue of his lolol i have to wonder if he holds back because suga somewhat reminds him of akiteru, who plays a similar role of being supportive, guiding, and sincere.

as for volleyball, we see from the get-go whenever he steps on the court that suga is actually a very intellectual player. he keeps a keen eye on where everyone is on the court, measuring where their strengths and weaknesses are, so that even if he doesn't have hinata's attack speed, kageyama's precision, or tsukki's high blocks, he can pinpoint the exact weak spot that only needs that little push to come apart. and then he tugs on that thread to see how much of the enemy team's formation he can unravel. his strategy is consistently on point, not unlike the play style we see tsukishima adopt as he grows out of his shell.

and i'm sure that's partially just because they happen to have a natural inclination toward the mental game of volleyball. but there are also very specific on-court habits that appear to be directly modeled after suga. the first time we get to really see suga's strength in action in s1, he's running all over his team's side of the court saying "hey you, come here, i have an idea," integrating each and every member of the team in the way that best suits their abilities. the play suga specifically asked tsukki to try is the strategic blocker switch. tsukki even tries to give him his due credit for a well-called play, but suga explains it like it's actually a really easy call to make. it's not really shown, but i do genuinely think something clicked into place for tsukki that expanded the ways he can read the court.

by season 2, tsukki is using a very similar thought process to predict where kyotani will hit and do the blocker switch with tanaka. and i don't think it's a coincidence that this is during their rematch with seijoh, the team against whom suga originally deployed this strategy.

we see tsukishima further mirror suga's play style (albeit adapted to the position of a blocker) in s3 as he becomes more confident and comfortable with his role in the team and on the court. he begins to take the initiative to conceptualize plays to share with his teammates, walking up to them individually like "ちょっと..." and asking if the team would trust him to make certain calls.

it's these little moments of behavior borrowed from suga that open tsukishima up to his teammates, especially his fellow first-years, and become that first cornerstone upon which they build up to a near-blind trust in each other throughout s4. the only one on karasuno aside from tsukki and suga who even sometimes makes these kinds of plays is kageyama, who is more directly suga's mentee by position, but arguably takes after him less than tsukishima does.

[juustokaku]

Confidentiality - Chapter 2. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as body dysmorphia, paranoid thoughts and more. Dark themes are to be expected.

A/N: Big thank you to everyone who read the first chapter and reads this one! This chapter has a lot of focus on Jongho. I'm honestly not happy how this turned out, but I hope at least someone will find it enjoyable! I appreciate feedback, so if the story feels too slow for example, please tell me. Also, don't worry; there will be more about the other members later on in the story! I just don't want to make the pace or character development too fast or overwhelming. Please, forgive me; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 3 477

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Sometimes you really wished you had a car. If you just had the nerves to drive you wouldn’t have to wait for the bus in the icy air. 

There was nothing wrong with the waiting itself. At least you usually had time for your own thoughts and breathing to settle down, when you waited for the bus, for your psychiatrist to invite you in, or for work to start. You always arrived to your work place an hour too early to minimize the risk of being late. 

So sure, there was nothing wrong with waiting. The problem was that Jongho was standing next to you. 

You had wished to not meet anyone from the peer support group before the inevitable. Life was already hard enough, and you didn’t need any more stress by seeing one of the madmen from the group on your free time. Although Jongho was seemingly less insane than Yunho for example, he was in the group for a reason. 

You noticed how Jongho’s breathing was much calmer compared to yours. It would have seemed like he wasn’t breathing at all, if the soft fog didn’t form in the air near his mouth. That’s how silent he was. 

The little glances you took in his direction weren’t probably as secretive as you thought, but you didn’t care that much at the moment. He looked mesmerizing as the sun was soon to set in the horizon, casting light on his handsome features. 

Although he looked irritated that the Sun was shining directly in his face, you didn’t turn to look away. He narrowed his eyes, and you took advantage of the fact that he was blinded by the Sun and its rays reflecting from snow. 

“Stop staring at me.” 

You turned your gaze away quicker than it was humanly possible. How was Jongho able to see you looking at him? There was no way you could explain your actions without embarrassing yourself even more, so you just hung your head in shame. Maybe it would hide the blush on your cheeks. At least you could lie that it was just the cold air making your cheeks red, if Jongho happened to notice. 

It felt like the silence would never end. A few cars passed by occasionally, and you almost wished one of them would have picked you up and saved you from this uncomfortable situation. 

Suddenly you felt Jongho moving closer to you. A woman had squeezed in the bus shelter Jongho and you were already in. The small bus stop was getting way too crowded to your liking, although only three people were seeking shelter from the cold under it. 

Jongho stood so close to you. You noticed his breath had quickened. His gaze was directed straight forward strictly. Even if you exploded next to him without warning, he probably wouldn’t move his eyes. He was clearly determined not to look at you. 

The woman who just arrived could probably sense the awkward atmosphere too. 

“Why didn’t you tell your last name?” 

You didn’t know whether to be startled by his question, by the fact that he talked or that he even remembered that situation a whole week after it happened. 

Jongho wasn’t as suspicious as Yunho but something about him made a shiver run down your spine. Even his way of standing was enough to make you think he was untrustworthy. 

But it was possible – unlikely, but possible – that he was nothing more than socially anxious just like you. You knew at some point of your life you would have to trust people. Even the ones you had just met for the first time. Your whole life so far had been wasted by no-one else but yourself, because you were too afraid. 

“I’m worried that people will use my personal information against me,” you answered, already preparing yourself to be laughed at. 

It was so stupid. But it was inevitable for Jongho and the others to know about your condition and thoughts at some point. There was no use of a peer support group if you never opened up. 

Against your expectations, Jongho just nodded thoughtfully. 

“I see. It’s true that many people might do exactly that.” 

Your eyes widened a bit. Getting confirmation that you were in possible danger was new to you. Your psychiatrist and therapist always told you to believe good about people unless they proved you wrong, but Jongho was telling you otherwise. 

“You have to choose wisely who to trust. If anyone.” 

“Do you trust anyone?” you asked Jongho before you could stop yourself. 

Jongho was able to surprise you many times that day. You had expected him to get irritated by your question, to push you into the snowbank or under a car. Actually no, that was something Yunho would do. 

Jongho’s face was stable and emotionless, but his voice betrayed him miraculously during the one word he said. 

“No.” 

“Can I ask you a question as well?”  

“I wish I could say no,” Jongho replied to your nervous question. 

You raised a confused brow. It’s not like you were some tyrant, so why didn’t he refuse if he so wanted to? You asked your question anyways. 

“Are you going to the same bus as I am?” 

“Yes,” Jongho put his hands in his pockets. 

Before he could hide them inside the long, beige jacket, you noticed how red they were from the cold. He must have been freezing but played it off cool. 

“Do you want my other mitten?” you asked. 

Jongho couldn’t hide his surprise, and you were shocked at your own words as well. It was not like you to offer something of your own for a practically stranger to borrow. There was always a risk of him running off with your precious glove. He took a glance at your mittens. 

“They’re really warm,” you hoped your attempt to persuade him would turn out successful. 

A hint of something soft flashed in Jongho’s eyes before disappearing like it had never been there. He just put his other hand out, gesturing you to give the other mitten to him. 

As you gave the glove to him, your fingers brushed against his cold skin. 

“How did you know which bus I am taking?” you realized to ask. 

There was a possibility that you couldn’t ignore; Jongho could be stalking you. In just a week after the first session, he could have found out everything about you, including what bus you always took! 

“You already used your turn to ask a question.” 

Why was he avoiding answering? It made you even more suspicious. 

You made sure to sit as far away from him as possible on the bus. 

When you arrived to the therapy room, you had sincerely hoped you and Jongho would be the first ones there. The thought of someone, especially Yunho, looking at you as you walked in through the door made anxious, acid bubbles pop in your chest. 

“Y/N! Sit next to me and San today!” Wooyoung practically ran to you the moment you pushed the heavy door open to enter. 

Glancing at San who was sitting on one of the chairs already, you noticed him flash a smile in your direction. It was a bit reserved yet kind unlike Yunho’s almost smothering, intrusive one. 

Speaking of Yunho, you felt a tall presence looming behind you. Who else could it be? That rapper “Mingus Dingus” didn’t seem interested in tormenting you, and the others weren’t that tall. You could almost see Yunho’s shadow in front of you as he stood behind you. 

“We should keep our original seat arrangements, don’t you think?” 

Someone could have mistaken Yunho’s voice as gentle but it had a sprinkle of tension. 

You flinched as Yunho put his hand on your shoulder to turn you to look at him. His grip was squeezing you almost like he was trying to control himself. 

To Wooyoung and San’s disappointment, you nodded nervously to Yunho’s suggestion. Oh, how you wished you could have run off to hide from him behind San’s muscles, but you didn’t know how he would react to that if he was this irritated already. 

“She’s just too afraid to say no to you,” Wooyoung pouted, “And I don’t blame her.” 

Apparently, you weren’t the only one to notice Yunho’s scary antics. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The atmosphere felt suddenly freezing as Yunho’s usually cheerful voice dropped to a low, icy one. 

“You’re hogging her all to yourself,” San chimed in. 

Everyone in the peer support group had arrived and was watching your conversation intently. Luckily, the realization of that made Yunho back off. With one last glare sent to Wooyoung and San, he retreated back to his chair. 

You sat between San and Wooyoung as the session started. 

“Let’s start the meeting by telling everyone how we’re feeling right now.” 

At Charlotte’s directive, the first turn was given – more like forced on – to Jongho. 

“I feel neutral. Too calm, even. My thoughts, goals and wants are clear.” 

“Do you think that’s a good thing?” Charlotte inquired. 

“No.” 

Charlotte looked intrigued by Jongho’s answer but gestured the person next to him to reveal their mood. 

Yeosang cleared this throat nervously before speaking, “Nothing that different from the usual. I feel scared. The only thing different is that I feel hopeful.” 

“Could you tell us why you’re hopeful?” 

“There’s a person I’d like to get to know. But I’m afraid I’ll make a fool out of myself in front of them.” 

If you had to choose someone who to trust in the group, it would be Yeosang. He was open about his feelings, which you knew isn’t easy, but seemed like he wouldn’t be dangerous. 

You wouldn’t let him fool you into thinking he was completely harmless though. Any of these men could outpower you easily but you wouldn’t let them outsmart you. 

“Okay, next is Mingus Ding- I mean Mingi,” Charlotte corrected herself quickly but already managed to earn a few chuckles. 

You knew the stage name was silly, but still felt a pang of sympathy in your chest at how embarrassed Mingi looked, when people found the name humorous. It wasn’t an unknown feeling to you to get ridiculed, so you could relate. 

“I was feeling pretty excited first but now I’m embarrassed.” 

“What made you feel excited?” Charlotte asked curiously. 

“I’m releasing a new single tomorrow.” 

Wooyoung’s interest piqued, "How many listeners do you have on Spotify?” 

Mingi’s face flushed red, “I’m a SoundCloud rapper.” 

Yunho pat Mingi on the shoulder comfortingly and started describing his own mood next. 

“I feel happy. I had a nice day at work!” 

It was hard to figure out what to feel about his revelation. Just a few minutes ago he had been fuming, and now he sat there with his beaming smile. Had his mood really changed that quickly or was he tricking everyone as usual? 

“Oh, great! What happened at work?” 

“That’s a secret. We have a professional confidentiality agreement at work.” 

“Just like here,” Charlotte smiled. 

You could barely focus as Seonghwa started talking about his frustrating work day at a game store, because of Yunho looking at you. 

Well, at least now you knew that his happy mood had been just a skillful act. His intense stare served as a reminder that you had made the wrong choice to sit next to Wooyoung and San. 

“I feel stressed out. There’s still so much I have to do at work,” Hongjoong’s tense voice brought you back down to Earth. 

“Did you relax during weekend?” 

“No. I worked. I have to keep my company relevant in the eyes of the customers.” 

It seemed to you like Hongjoong was some kind of workaholic. You shouldn’t have felt ashamed because workaholism was a real, possibly life-ruining condition, but you couldn’t help the feelings of embarrassment. Hongjoong was so successful while you had your ordinary work and no ambitious goals other than to feel better someday. 

It was San’s turn to speak, “I’m sad and insecure. Some people at the gym looked at me weird again.” 

You couldn’t understand why someone would look at San weirdly. Sure, you were intimidated by how handsome he was but when he smiled at you today, your heart was about to melt. His eyes were so pretty. 

“What do you mean by weird?” 

“Like they thought I was scary or would hurt them,” San answered Charlotte. 

His sad tone broke your heart. He seemed shameful for making some people afraid of him, but was it really his fault since he didn’t act threateningly? 

Before the pause got awkward, you realized it was your turn. 

What could you tell? If you spoke the truth and said you were a little scared, would Yunho realize it was thanks to him? 

But it was about time to start opening up. All these people were here because of their own problems. All of them had been mentally unwell for years probably, and now focused on only getting better, not planning to murder you. Even Yunho. At least you hoped so, because you were about to reveal your feelings for the first time. 

“I’m feeling...” you looked around the room, trying to analyze everyone’s faces but your sight was getting blurry, “scared.” 

“And why is that, Y/N?” 

“Everything makes me scared. But I recognize it’s just my overthinking. There’s no real threat.” 

Convincing others was much easier than convincing yourself. You could see other people nodding in sympathy at your words. 

“I don’t think that’s just overthinking,” Jongho suddenly spoke up. 

Charlotte turned to look at Jongho with warning eyes. You were already such a mess with your paranoid thoughts that there was no need for Jongho to fuel the fire. 

“Everyone is a possible threat. There is possibly one even among us,” he continued. 

“Jongho, stop.” 

But Jongho didn’t care about Charlotte’s demand. 

“Someone who presents themselves as a leader of justice may as well be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” 

Your heartbeat accelerated by every word Jongho let fall from his lips. Did he know something you didn’t? 

Eyeing the room, you could see thoughtful, worried looks on everyone’s face. Everyone, including Yunho himself, knew who Jongho meant by “a leader of justice”. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Still, no-one dared to speak. An unwritten agreement of silence hung thick in the air, crushing you under its weight. 

“Let’s move on to the next section,” Charlotte informed after a few moments. 

“No! I haven’t had my turn yet,” Wooyoung whined, and for a good reason. 

Soon enough, Wooyoung was describing his mood and past week, paying attention to the important details like what color the car that passed by was and how long he brushed his teeth. 

The story continued for many minutes, and you were sure you’d be listening to him talk for the rest of eternity. Wooyoung’s next comment suddenly woke you up from your slumber. 

“I also saw you, Y/N. You were so beautiful on your evening walk.” 

A bit creepy, to be honest, but his intention was probably just to be sweet. You gave him a sheepish smile in response. 

“Oh! I almost forgot to mention; someone was following you.” 

Your smile dropped as you heard Wooyoung’s words. Feeling like you were being watched had always been a thing you suffered from, but that was just work of your “wild imagination” based on what your psychiatrist always told you. But despite all the medication he had prescribed you, the feeling had stayed. 

Maybe you weren’t as crazy as you had thought. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t scare Y/N like that,” Charlotte scolded Wooyoung. 

“But it’s true!” 

“Stop. We are moving on to the next section.” 

You had never seen Charlotte so tense. But she masked her frustration well and changed the topic skillfully, like she had probably had to do many times before with difficult patients. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about Wooyoung’s revelation during the other section as well. Yeosang was your partner in the next section, but your focus was completely on different things while he was talking. 

“A-Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Yeosang’s sad voice finally pulled you back from your anxious thoughts. 

An instant regretful feeling filled you, and you hurried to apologize, “I’m so sorry, Yeosang. I’m... still thinking about the fact that someone had been following me.” 

Yeosang’s body seemed to relax a bit, but his hands were still wrapped around his stomach as usual. He stole a glance at your face before staring at his shoes again. 

“Okay, I understand. I would be worried too. Well, I am worried for you as well. It’s not like I don’t care about your well-being. I mean, I’m not in love with you! But people can still care although they don’t love each other, you know? But that’s not to say I would never be able to love you. I think you’re lovable. Everyone is. Well, maybe not everyone, but you definitely are!” 

Wow. You did not expect that logorrhea to escape his pretty lips. 

Your shock was clearly evident because Yeosang hid his face immediately and murmured almost inaudibly, “I’m sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

It was official. Yeosang was the one you trusted the most. Even his rambling had been cute, but his sincere, caring apology made your heart ache in a way that wasn’t sadness. 

You were surprised by your own attitude as well. It wasn’t like you to consider trusting someone after a second meeting. Although you’d be careful, you felt more at ease with Yeosang’s presence already. 

“No worries. I think it was funny – in a good way.” 

Yeosang smiled shyly in response and even managed to meet your eyes for a split second. 

You two continued chatting away, at least tried to, although it was hard with both of you being so shy. Despite the moments of silence, you didn’t feel awkward. Anxious, yes, but that was because you genuinely hoped for your potential friendship to bloom. The instant connection between you two was as clear as day. 

Sadly, everyone did not appreciate the fact that Yeosang had gotten closer to you than anyone had so far. 

The house was starting to get void of people after the session finally ended. Your boots and jacket were on, your hand on the doorknob, ready to open the front door and freeze in the breeze of a winter night. 

“There you are. I thought Yeosang had snatched you away.” 

You turned around to see Jongho standing at the top of a staircase. His face wasn’t visible due to the low lighting in the room, but you recognized his stable voice. 

“I’ve been waiting to get you alone,” he started descending the stairs by taking one step down. 

“Why?” 

Your ever so slightly trembling voice didn’t faze Jongho. 

The stairs creaked a little as he took two steps down, “Do I make you nervous?” 

“A little, to be honest...” 

Jongho didn’t answer you. Only after he had taken three steps down, you gathered the courage to repeat your question. 

“Why did you want to get me alone?” 

“Make a guess.” 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t come up with any reasons. You just couldn’t make any sense of the mess inside your head. 

You saw Jongho taking more and more steps, getting closer. Like frozen in place, you could just watch him approach you. His blank expression left you clueless, having no idea what he could possibly want from you. 

And soon enough, Jongho stood in front of you, looking in your eyes. You had felt much more comfortable with Yeosang’s avoiding eyes than the intense yet emotionless gaze Jongho was forcing on you. 

The room was dimly lit and the lights formed shadows on his face. Earlier today, you had seen him at the bus stop with the sunlight shining on his face. It had been a beautiful sight. Now, the light was completely different. It was artificial, and although warm, it made Jongho look like a different person. 

He reached for your hand before you could flinch away, and placed something in it. 

It was the mitten you had lent him. 

“Next time, sit beside me,” he said. 

You were left alone, standing like a fool, as Jongho disappeared into the night. Millions of thoughts raced in your head, but eventually you pulled the mittens in your hands. 

Just as you slipped your hand inside the warm mitten Jongho had given back to you, something fell out of it. 

Your winter jacket rustled quietly as you reached down and picked up the object from the floor. 

It was a small piece of paper. There was a handwritten sentence on it. 

“You’re not as observant as you think you are.”