#But a writer is always going to be somewhat trapped

[jonnywaistcoat]

Have you ever been to the USA, if you have the chance do cuz we are a big as country and you’d definitely re-think the idea of having one central branch for the usher foundation…

I have, yeah, and I'm well aware of how big it is, but I suspect you might be doing a lot of extrapolation as to what the Usher Foundation is and how it works, since as far as I recall it's only vaguely referenced in a brief mention or two. Like, the Magnus Institute isn't a "central branch" that covers all of Europe, or even the UK - it's an academic institution based in London. So one would assume the Usher Foundation is an Academic institution based somewhere in America (I generally imagine it in the Boston area, or somewhere in that region of New England due to the Poe connection). Also, if academic institutions were like public agencies that had a responsibility to cover geographical areas or populations, I think the more egregious problem would be the Pu Songling Centre in Beijing, as China has five times the population of the USA in roughly the same geographical area.

Also, while I do a lot of research for my stories, especially international ones, and try to get a sense of the specific area I'm writing about, I'm obviously always going to be writing as a Brit and thus with certain British assumptions about how places work. And to be honest, after living my life in an anglophone culture dominated by USAmerican media and constantly seeing those, uh, "interpretations" of the UK, there's a slight feeling of turnabout is fair play.

[ramhaiba]

𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋, 𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗍. 2

Pairing- Yandere Rintaro Suna x Reader

Masterlist . . . Part one

"For what it’s worth, princess, if the devil is real. It’s me.”

Contains- Serial Killer! Suna, oral (f receiving), dubcon, semi-public fingering, groping, choking, biting, manhandling, riding overstimulation, marathon sex, mentions of necrophilia/noncon, implied somnophila, baby trapping(?) A/N- sorry for the long wait guys, writer's block can be a bitch

Sleeping with him was the biggest mistake of your life-

No. letting him ‘help’ you was the biggest mistake of your life. 

Ever since you two had sex, he’s been sleeping in the same bed as you. You did attempt to persuade him to sleep on the couch once again but he simply responded with

‘We both saw what happens when I sleep on the couch, sweetheart. Besides, sharing the same bed might bring back some of those ‘dear’ memories you lost.”  As you predicted, it would be challenging to sneak out of your room at night, especially when Suna’s arm is wrapped around your waist, his chin tucked on your shoulder, and his stern back against your chest.

You thought about lying to him, telling him you’re getting up from bed to use the bathroom but really you’re planning to find his car keys and drive away from this nightmare. But what if you take too long and he gets suspicious? Last time you got lucky when he misunderstood your attempt to steal his car keys.

You hate that you spent the entire week with him, pretending to be in a loving marriage, kissing him sweetly, and sometimes bathing with him. But he hasn’t fucked you since the first time- well with his dick at least. 

If he thinks you look too cute in a nightgown- which you always do, he’ll push you down on the bed, scrunching up your silky slip-on onto your breast and shamelessly make out with your cunt, fingers holding your thighs down and apart to keep you from squirming away. He never fails to give you an intense orgasm. You're so addicted to his touch that you don’t know how you’ll be able to cum again once you escape from him...While on the topic of escaping, you’re finding the idea of freedom too difficult to obtain by yourself. You’re gonna need help.

“ So- I remember you mentioned before that we were still friends with twins from high school” You blurted out while having dinner with your ‘fiancé.’

“ Yeah, Osamu and Atsumu. What about them?” Suna asked nonchalantly. “Well, I think you should invite them over. I think it’d be good for me to meet someone from my past” you suggested.

“ It’d be hard to contact them because the service in this place is horrible” Suna claimed, leaning back in his chair. You let out an instant “oh” with a noticeable pout on your lips.

Then you heard Suna sigh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Okay. There is this part of the house where the service is somewhat usable. But it’s on the roof so I don’t want you following me there. Your body is still sore which makes it difficult for you to stay up there without falling” Suna pointed out.

He’s right. You’ll probably hurt yourself if you try going on that roof. So the idea of stealing his phone to call for help isn’t possible.

“You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you, Rin” You complimented. “ Yeah well, I gotta keep my wife happy” Suna got up and kissed your forehead before retreating upstairs.

You waited impatiently for Suna to come back down. A sick part of you wishes that he’d accidentally slip off the roof, breaking his neck because then you’d be freed from this nightmare. But he only takes twenty minutes to come back down, placing his phone back into his pocket as he walks towards you.

“So? Did they say yes?” you questioned. “They said they would love to stop by. But I had to make Atsumu promise he wouldn’t bring another hookup over. I better start cooking dinner because those two guys know how to eat- especially Osamu” Suna replied, giving you an endearing pat on the head as he went to prepare for their arrival. 

--

You hadn’t seen any pictures of the twins prior before they arrived, so it was quite intimidating when two muscular tall men stood at your doorstep. The dark-haired one holding a classic bottle of wine. While Atsumu opened his arms to you, giving you an unwelcomed hug.

“There is our Y/n. It’s been too long since we saw ya” The bold twin one cooed, his arms around you tightened.

“You’re one foot in and already flirtin’ with my fiance- don’t you have any shame, Atsumu?” Suna replied, subtly informing you of the difference between the twins.

So if the blonde, somewhat pervy, twin was Atsumu. The other one must be Osamu.

“I ain’t flirting. I was just being friendly to a friend who’s gotten into a terrible- just terrible accident “ Atsumu pouted.

“I decided to tell them your situation. I hope you don’t mind” Suna commented, smiling innocently.

It’s unsettling.

They’re completely lying to you- you’re not friends with them. How are they so eerily confident then? How can these two lie straight to your face and pretend that you’re Suna's fiancé?

Because you’re not. You’re not his fiancé. 

Right?

Dinner with them made you even more confused. They’re doing the same thing that Suna did. Reciting old stories about your so-called past together. It’s getting more difficult to distinguish what’s the truth or not. Yet Atsumu’s words manage to slip you back into reality.

“You should really be thanking me. If I didn’t set you two up in college- y’all would not be getting married.. at least Suna wouldn’t be” Atsumu teased.

“I thought we started dating in high school?” You spoke up, pointing out Atsumu’s mistake. Rather than Atsumu getting embarrassed for making such an innocent mistake. 

Atsumu got nervous.

If you weren’t already so superstitious during dinner, you wouldn’t have noticed how he blinked away, how forced his laughter sounded, and how his brother deadly glared at him.

“Would you pardon us? I think I have to remind Atsumu about some manners” Osamu asked, seeming all friendly while his jawline clenched, a fist under the table. 

Suna clicked him, glancing at a nervous Atsumu and then back at Osamu.” Go ahead,” Suna replied.

You were left alone with him once again.

You and your fiancé-No. He’s not your fiancé. You and your demon.

“You’re lookin’ a bit nervous, sweetheart. Are you feeling okay? Just say the word and I can get these idiots to leave any time” Suna suggested. “No- they don’t need to leave. I just need to go to the bathroom to freshen up. That’s all” Your laughter sounded a bit too forced, sweaty palms pushing you up out of your seat. “Don’t take too long” Suna mumbled, watching you march quickly out of the dining room.

This is your chance.

You can ask- no- you're going to beg the twins to help you because surely, they wouldn’t want to risk being an accomplice for a serial killer.

You followed their distant voices, words too unintelligible to understand. Eventually, you ended up in front of the door connecting the garage to the summer house. Luckily, they left the door slightly ajar, allowing you to hear their conversation clearly.

You were about to walk in before you heard Osamu say

“Are you a fuckin’ idiot, ‘Tsumu? At this point, Suna not gonna let either of us have a turn with her” Osamu argued with his brother.

“Shut up- shut up. I’m a fuckin’ volleyball player not an actor” Atsumu huffed. “Yeah and I own a restaurant but I know how to keep my story straight,” Osamu remarked.

“I don’t even know why Suna cares s’much about keeping up this whole game” Atsumu commented.

“he’s just gonna kill her like the rest.”

Your heart is racing because your last hope of escaping this n nightmare just revealed they could care less about your life- fuck they could be worse than Suna. Instinctually, you step away from the door, wanting to be as far away from them as possible. But that’s when you feel a stern chest against your back, stopping you from backing away. You slowly turn your head and notice Suna behind you, his eyes glued on the view of the twins arguing about whether they’ll still get a ‘turn’ with you after Atsumu’s mishap.

“Rin-“

“Quiet. It’s always amusing to watch the twins argue, right? “ Suna replied, his hand tilting your face to watch the twins, his chin resting on top of your head, forcing you to watch the truth unfold.

“You know he does sadistic shit like this all the time. Just try to have fun with her while she’s still alive” Osamu huffed.

“I didn’t come here to play an actor. I just wanna fuck her before Suna finally cuts her up or whatever sadistic shit he plans to do with her” Atsumu groaned.

“ Yeah, well, there's no way in hell he’s gonna let you have a turn with her if you don’t play along correctly. You’d be lucky if he even lets you fuck her corpse” 

Atsumu hummed, his once annoyed attitude slowly disappearing as he looked lost in thought- until he made the comment

“I wouldn’t mind that at all actually.”

You want to stop listening but Suna won’t let you. “Please, just let me go and I won’t- I won’t tell anyone” you muttered, voice cracking. Suna laid his forehead on your shoulder, you could feel his smile on his skin.

“What about our wedding?” he cooed, voice teasing, his hands wrapping around your waist, tips of his fingers sliding under your waistband.

“Rintarou, please- I-I don’t want to die. I’ll do anything just don’t hurt me” you begged. 

“I don’t like when you call me by my first name, it makes me feel like I’m in trouble” Suna commented, a soft pout on his lips. This time his hands are traveling further down the inside of your pants until his fingers are tracing over your covered slit. You wish you could fight his touch but you’re too scared to upset him.

“Rin, I don’t wanna pretend anymore. I just wanna go home” You’re starting to cry and he doesn’t need to look at your face to know that tears are pouring out of your eyes.

You act like you’re strong but the second you’re faced with a challenge, you crack like glass. So easy to read. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much.

“You wanna go home? Go ahead and ask the twins for help. But I don’t if they’ll be that compliant” Suna suggested. He’s right. He’s always right.

“I like you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so infatuated with a person like this before. So I’ll give you two choices. You could either go beg the twins to take you away from this ‘hell house’ or

you can become my pretty wife”

 You don't want any of that. You want to run far far away. But he’ll catch you like he did the first time and then he might actually kill you.

“So, what will it be, princess?” He repeats, forcing you to break from your silence. That nickname, it always appears when his true colors are shown. You're starting to hate that word because now you associate it with danger.

“How do I know you won’t kill me,” you ask, in the quietest voice, afraid of his answer. He chuckles at your question, raises his head from your shoulder, and smiles.

“Because I'll never get bored of you.”

That’s all it takes. You nod your head, not wanting to hear yourself agree to stay. To be his, forever.

He leans over, lips almost touching yours, narrow eyes with an unwearying stare forcing you to look at him. 

“You know how to keep quiet, don’t you Mrs. Suna?”

That’s when his wandering fingers finally slip beneath your panties and you’re reminded that Osamu and Atsumu are right behind the door in front of you. “Rin, not here” you begged, squirming to get out of his grip, only for him to hold you tighter.

“Why not? Atsumu would probably wanna hear, that fuckin’ freak” Suna laughed. Just as you were about to utter an argument, you’re cut short by the painfully slow pumping of Suna’s fingers, thrusting into your cunt. You feel weak.

Instead of telling him to stop, your words cut into a breathy moan and Suna is forced to lean over to your ear.

“ Careful, princess. You don’t want them to hear you.” He whispered a reminder, tongue poking out of his mouth to lick a stripe down your neck, causing you only to tighten around his long thrusting fingers. 

“ Try to argue with me but I can feel how wet you are. Maybe you’re the crazy one huh? Or maybe it’s both of us. Guess we're soulmates then” he’s talking more than he usually does. Maybe because he knows you're scared to get caught.

Or maybe he’s drunk on the success of your agreement to your engagement. Doesn’t matter because he’s only getting more confident, pulling down the neckline of your shirt as long as your bra with his other hand, groping the soft skin of your breast all while his thumb is massaging your clit.

Fuck- you’re so close and he’s so fucking hard, forced to grind his painful erection against your back.

You feel pathetic when you're uncontrollably humping his ruthless fingers, chasing your high. 

When you hear him chuckle from behind you, most likely realizing your movement- he has no right to sound so fucking sexy.

“Can’t believe you were begging me to stop, aren’t you just the prettiest liar.” He mumbles.

And you’re finishing on his fingers, legs shaking, eyes tearing up, your hands covering your mouth muffling uncontrollable moans.

Suna slowly pulls his hands out of your pants, bringing his drenched fingers into your mouth, disgustedly making you clean his fingers, tasting yourself. 

He spins you towards him, leaning over to wipe off your smeared make up, fixing your appearance for you because you are all too stunned by what has just occurred.

Just on time, Atsumu and Osamu are opening the door, both surprised to see you.

“ Holy fuck- how long were you two standing there" Atsumu called out. You both turn around to look at them, Suna wrapping one arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his side.

“We just walked in actually” Suna lied for your sake.

“ Well…Wow! look at the time- “ Atsumu said, checking his watch, pretending to read the time. “It’s getting late, ain’t it? I’m a bit too tired to drive…guess me and Osamu gotta stay over the night” Atsumu whistled.

Holy fuck- Atsumu and Osamu still think they have a chance with you. 

You’re beginning to tremble at Suna’s side, fully not trusting him to protect you.

“I’ll call you two an uber,” Suna says blankly.

You could see Atsumu grit his teeth, not knowing why he wasn’t getting rewarded for  his ‘efforts.’

“Well- can we at least visit tomorrow” Osamu questioned, trying to hint if they’ll at least have a chance to fuck your dead corpse.

Sick mother fuckers. Just like Suna- maybe even worse.

“Next time we’ll see you is at our wedding” Suna smiled passively aggressively, knowing he just pissed off the twins.

Atsumu is about to open his mouth, most likely attending to spoil the truth because Suna ruined all of his ‘fun.’ But Osamu stops him by gripping the back of Atsumu’s shirt.

“ No need to argue with an old friend. We’ll leave… just call us next time when we’re allowed to come over” Osamu sighed.

Then they proceed to leave. Not without Atsumu forcing you into a hug, his hand dangerous lying on your lower back, a final act of perversion. They leave and you’re left alone with Suna and his narrow eyes are locked on yours. 

“Could fuck you here or on the bed. Pick one”

There is no option to deny him. He is going to be your husband after all.

“Bed.”

He’s not even letting you walk there, probably thinking you’ll move too slowly for his liking. So he's picking you up effortlessly because of his muscular arms, delivering you to the bedroom before and tossing you onto the mattress. He’s on top of you in a heartbeat, his hands tugging off your clothes, not caring if you’re telling him to slow down because they’ll rip.

He’ll buy you a new one- fuck he’ll buy you anything you’d want as long as he gets to fuck that tight pussy of yours.

Your heart is slipping at the sound of his belt unbuckling, too nervous to look at the sight of him sliding down any of the clothes covering his hard cock.

“Fuckin’ you raw, yeah? Doesn’t matter anymore since we’ll be married soon” Suna clicks his tongue, holding his heavy cock in his hands, pressing his leaking tip against your hole.

You shake your head frantically, “Don’t please Rin- don’t do that to me” you shuttered.

“ What? Ya afraid you’ll conceive the devil’s reincarnation? For what it’s worth, princess, if the devil is real. 

It’s me.”

Without another argument he’s forcing himself into your shameless cunt causing a gasp to slip out of your mouth, not waiting for you to adjust until he’s fucking you into the bed. You’re holding onto everything but him. And he doesn’t like this- it’s not wife behavior is it?

So he leans over and painfully bites into your collarbone, “ hurt me back.” He commands.

And you give him exactly what he wants, slipping your hands under his shirt, digging your nails into his toned back, causing him to only get fuck you harder like it a competition on who can break the quickest.

You’re not holding back your moans- thankful for the lack of people near you, only giving Suna the privilege of hearing them.

Once you orgasm for the second time that night, he’s switching positions and forcing you to take him on his lap, his back resting on the bed frame.

You know what he wants you to do but you’re already so tired, you drowsily shake your head, hoping he’ll stop, and let finally you sleep.

Except all you do is annoy him, hissing under his breath as his hands grip your hips, forcing you to bounce on his cock, overstimulating your insides.

“ Slow down, Rin-“ you asked, knowing he won’t let you stop but at least the idea of slowing down seems possible.

“You wanna go slow, princess? Then you gotta do it yourself” he commented. You hesitate before nodding your head, thinking it’s a better option than letting him fuck you relentlessly.

His hands go behind his head while yours leans over on his thigh, slowly pushing yourself up, sucking in your breath and you sink back down.

Suna whistled at the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, acting like the perfect wife. 

He’s moving the hair out of your face before wrapping his hands around your neck, freaking you out as he lightly squeezes the sides of your neck. The action is causing you to stop your movement.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asked, tightening the grip around your neck, making it harder to breathe, a growing light-headed.

Your hands are shaking as you’re lifting yourself up and down on his cock. It’s humiliating, knowing you’re getting off because of him- how easily he has control of your body

“Say you’ll stay” he pants, chest heaving, feeling your cunt squeezing on his cock because of his husky voice.

“ Say you’ll stay forever. Can’t ever leave my side, princess. Dont think I can live without this pussy” he asks, face flushed.

“ I’ll stay—Rin” you managed to croak out with the tightness around your neck.

That’s all he needs until he’s leaning over to your torso, hands moving to grip your waist,  forcing you to stay still on his cock, cumming deep into your pussy.

You think that’ll be it for tonight until he’s pulling back and kissing you, tongue slipping into your mouth, hands moving to grope your breast again until he’s hard once more.

He’s manhandling you until you’re on your hands and knees. He's behind you, watching your legs shake as he guides his cock back into your stuffed pussy, fucking his leaking cum back into you.

You’re screaming from overstimulation, tears soaking the bed sheet under your eyes, hands gripping onto the bed sheet. You feel like you’re being crushed when he presses his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around your lower stomach, cock bullying your insides.

He’s never this energetic.

And you’re also never this honest, finally admitting to knowing the truth behind this charade. But you tell him you’ll stay isn’t something he believes in.

“ Bet you’re thinking about leavin’ when I’m asleep, yeah?” He huffed against the nape of your neck.

“You’d probably find a way to kill me first though. You’re not dumb enough to think I won’t find you” he uttered, talking to you as if he’s not fucking you into oblivion.

“ Doesn’t matter if m’dead or not. I’ll always be with you- every second til the day you fuckin' die, you'll be thinking about me. dreaming about me. haunted by me. So don’t you dare test me. Just be good and I’ll be good back. I fuck you good as well” he adds, his finger rubbing your swollen clit while his hips are forcing you to the edge, squeezing his cock so hard he can’t pull out to cum- not like he was going to do in the first place.

Suna lifts himself and rolls you to the side, admiring your fucked out expression, how you’re staring at the ceiling, chest heaving as you recover from your intense orgasm.

“ Maybe if fuck a baby into you. You wouldn't be able to leave,”Suna commented, the lack of playfulness in his tone suggested to you that he was actually serious about the idea of knocking you up.

“ I'm not - I not planning on leaving— I won’t do it, Rin. I’m telling the truth” you babbled, crying at the idea of going another round, hands frantically wiping down tears that felt never-ending.

Suna chuckles because for once, he believes you. He leans over and kisses your cheek sweetly.

“I’ll be nice and give you a morning-after pill I got laying around somewhere afterward, yeah? I’ll take care of you, but you gotta take care of me,” he cooed.

You are too cute. So much more innocent than Suna is- never committing the horrendous crimes he’s done. And he thinks you begging him to spare you from sex is so much more exciting than you begging him for your life.

But to you- it feels like you’re begging for the same thing. You’ll die if he fucks you again- that your body is too overstimulated and exhausted.

That doesn’t stop him- nothing will really, from getting hard, thrusting into you again. You don’t know when he stopped fucking you- was it after you passed out the third time? Or did he continue ever after that? When it’s over, you’re half awake, back leaning on his chest, his hand ushering you to take the suggested birth control in his hand. Then slowly tilt the glass of water down your mouth. While you manage to drink the refreshing liquid, you get a glance of the mess between your spread legs, cum shameless dripping out and you wish you never met him.

You’re awake and you don’t feel physically dirty, the evidence of cum wiped off your legs by Suna while you were sleeping. 

If he hadn’t marked your body with his teeth and hands, you’d almost pretend last night was nonexistent. Plus the aroma coming from him cooking from the kitchen downstairs only ruins the fantasy even more.

Maybe you’ll run away one day and get away with it. But you can’t say you could ever truly escape, Suna.

Because that would just make you a liar.

taglist @fynn1issshh @kodsuken

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

This is referring to the "Everything we know about Neige" post. I was just going to comment, but since it became quite big I decided to send here.

Seriously, the RSA boys throwing themselves in from of the NRC always gets to me, because they essentially sacrificed themselves to a unknown treat and I love how this shows the difference between the students on each school, and how RSA is always playing as a team instead of the each men for themselves style of NRC. And especially how that strength is the exact why RSA keeps winning against NRC in the intarscholastic spell drive tournament, and has done so for 99 consecutive years!

I love how around the beginning of the manga (also in the game, but I personally fell like the manga explanation was better) Crowley says how because the mirror's choice are always magicians with big potential, that also leads for a group of people who are somewhat arrogant and refuses to work together.

This is such a core part of the story, but I don't see a lot of talk around it, and personally, I think it's one of the biggest charms.

I do really enjoy how even by telling a story though the villans side, the writers were still able to showcase the very core Disney idea that the reason the heros win is because they are working together, opposite to the villains who ,for the most part, work alone and isolated. It also highlights the importance of dialog and conversation while ALSO showing how naive and self sacrifizing most of the heros are, with Neige and Chenya without think twice throwing themselves into the flowers to save the NRC boys.

I appreciate so much the dinamic of this two schools because by that we can see the strengths and weaknesses of BOTH sides.

Sorry if that was to long and sorry for any grammar mistakes or misspellings. Hope you have/had a nice day/night. Take care. ♡

[Referencing this post!]

It was definitely a really commendable moment for the RSA students, especially when Ruggie and Idia (in the same event) wanted to abandon their asses and save themselves 😭

I feel the common sentiment is to claim RSA’s wins against NRC are “undeserving” or impossible to believe when NRC has so many powerhouses, but it makes sense when you consider the philosophies of their students are so different. Neige and the dwarves performed a popular children’s song from the Shaftlands—a song which adults have nostalgia for and kids love, a song which encourages everyone to join in singing and dancing. Vil had a new song made, but the style won’t appeal to everyone and the lyrics are hard and brag about beating down a foe and winning. You won’t win the audience vote if your performance fails to emotionally connect with people.

RSA’s 99-year win streak in magift/spelldrive is no coincidence either. Their cooperation (which is emphasized in their school curriculum as well) allows them to pull victories, whereas NRC often falls apart due to in-fighting. Ace and Grim give an example at the beginning of Stage in Playful Land. Leona also states that their team last year started fighting before the game even started. It's a consistent pattern.

With the end-of-year tournament being a team composed of one member from each dorm (dorms which have strong rivalries and think they are better than the others), there’s bound to be even more issues that arise in a match. RSA wins not only because they have talented students that can work together well, but also because NRC quite literally tears itself apart from the inside out 💀

It's interesting when we think about how the Mirror of Darkness seems to select students that have great magic potential but are also very arrogant because of that same potential. And this also reflects in their morals as well; it's not uncommon to find NRC students willing to use underhanded methods to get their way (Jamil and Ruggie controlling NBC students to be meat shields, Leona in all of book 2, Jade suggesting they use booby traps to take down their Sledathon rivals, etc.), whereas none of the RSA students we've met so far appear to have morals that deviate from that of a typical nice yet naive "hero". NRC values self preservation, independence, and ambition, whereas RSA is far more self-sacrificing and caring for the entire group. It makes me wonder if RSA has a method of enrollment that minimizes the arrogance and underhandedness in its student population (or at least boasts humility or open-mindedness)? As far as we're aware, the students at RSA also have great magic potential... so what makes the students enrolled at NRC arrogant about it and the students at RSA not arrogant about it...?

I think what separates villains and heroes in Disney films is their dynamics with others. Villains often have henchmen or partners in crime, but the villains are definitely presented as the ones in charge while the others are subservient to them. Villains give commands and/or manipulate to get their way. There is a clear power dynamic, a leader and followers behind that leader’s ambitions. Heroes are willing to compromise, and you’ll seldom see heroes bossing around their friends or allies. If people help the hero, it’s typically of their own volition and not because they are ordered to. Sometimes they help because they are moved or inspired by the hero—but ultimately, their autonomy remains intact. The hero treats others as equals and not as a means to an end. Their kindness is a virtue that attracts others to them. It’s a “me against the world” vs an “us against the world” mentality.

[kcwriter-blog]

I've been thinking about how we the players know so little about Solas compared to what the writers and developers know about him and how that affects the way he is written.

I mean we know he is an ancient elf. We know he was powerful enough and skilled enough to create the Veil. We know he and Mythal were friends. He doesn't seem to have liked Andruil and Falon'Din much. Skyhold belonged to him. He removed vallislin. He tried to free slaves. He had kind of an underground railroad thing going. He seems to have had a lot of money secreted away. He painted even back in Arlathan. A lot of statues seem to have been made of him. People in the Vir Dirthara knew he created the Veil but were surprised that he would do something like that. He seems to have always had an affinity for the Fade and spirits. He enjoyed whatever version of the Game nobles in Arlathan played. He was cocky and hot blooded, always spoiling for a fight. He is capable of love and friendship.

I think that's all and it really isn't much. Everything else anyone says about him is pure speculation. It makes meta fun but its easy to get too caught up in our own ideas.

We speculate about him based on things we learn from his personal quests and what we see in Trespasser but we don't know anything for sure. Was he a slave? Was he a spirit called out of the Fade by Mythal and given a body? Did he manifest a body like Cole? Was he just a normal elf born in a small village to the north? Was he a noble and privileged or did he work his way up? Did he join the fight against the Titans? Was he a genius who theorized that the waking world and Fade could be separated? Did he use untried magic because his back was against the wall and he couldn't think of any other way to save the world? Was he a friend of the Evanuris so they trusted him enough to fall into his trap? Was he one of them?

So many questions. The writers have tried to portray him sympathetically. They want us to empathize with him. And I have to ask myself why? He is one of the antagonists. Wouldn't it be easier to portray him as not having any redeeming qualities? And yet, he is basically described as the hero who lived long enough to become the villain.

I know his detractors believe he is a genocidal, racist maniac but that doesn’t track with everything we learn about him as high approval or romanced Inquisitors. It certainly isn’t born out by his statement that he is doing his best to minimize the damage.

He truly believes what he is doing is best for the world and is willing to break it and remake it. What does he know? But more importantly, what do the writers know? Fen' Harel has existed since Origins. Devs have always planned for him to make an appearance. That means the valleslin has always been a mark of slavery even if the Dalish didn't know. The Creators have always been horrible, slave owners even if the Dalish don't remember. Which means Solas has always been the rebel fighting for what he believes is right.

Why do the writers see him not so much as the villain (although Epler uses that word constantly - he is usually the only one though) as they do a somewhat noble person who keeps making mistakes? Why is he portrayed as just a sad man who can't see past his regret and guilt. What was he like? What changed him? What did he know about the Veil before he put it up?

I get that a lot of people don't like the idea of being tied to him in Veilguard but maybe the writers did that so we have no choice but to get to know him - the good and the bad. Maybe we finally get to know Solas the way the writers and developers know him. I'm looking forward to that.

[dracolilhoe]

Secret Keepers Pt. 2 (Severus Snape x Y/n)

Pt. 1 -> Secret Keepers

Severus Snape x fem!pregnant!wife!professor

Main Masterlist here -> DracoLilHoe

Harry Potter Fandom Masterlist here -> HP Masterlist

Warnings - Female reader, use of Y/n, Professor reader

Words: +2.4k

Summary: Severus & Y/n have been secretly married for the last few years. Y/n has a hunch that something big is happening, but isn't sure if she should trust her instincts.

If you find mistakes please tell me! I'm not a perfect writer so please just let me know. Happy reading! :)

*Harry POV*

That was what felt like the longest detention in the history of detentions. How could Snape even be married let alone have a baby? I walk into the somewhat crowded common room spotting Hermione and Ron sitting at a table arguing about who knows what.

Hermione looks up spotting me. "Harry! How did the detention with Professor Snape go? He didn't give you a hard time, did he?" I shake my head. "You won't believe what I heard," I mutter taking the seat across from the two.

"As I was walking toward his office I heard him talking with Profesor y/l/n. Apparently, she's pregnant!" Ron's jaw drops. "Nooo!" He whines earning an eye roll from Hermione. "Ronald you never had a chance! She's too old for you, and you're too young for her!" Rons sighs, "Whatever, but why would she tell Snape of all people. They aren't exactly friends. Are they?"

"That's the thing," I lower my voice to a whisper. "Snape's the father!" "What!?" Ron shrieks his face contorting into a look of utter shock earning a few confused looks from the fellow first-year Gryffindors. Hermione raises her eyebrows the realization finally hitting her. She gives Ron a smack to the head, "Lower your voice, Ronald! They obviously want it to stay a secret!"

Ron rubs the back of his head muttering about how she didn't have to hit him that hard. "It all makes sense now," Hermione continues. "I wondered why she always wore a ring but thought it was too rude to ask about it. I can't believe I missed it!"

"I can't believe it.." Ron groans laying his head down on the desk. "Ron, Hermione's right. It's obviously something they didn't want anyone else to know. And you never really did stand a chance with her."

"I just, I don't understand. How could Professor y/l/n possibly be interested in that old git?" Ron asks. Hermione sighs, "Ron, she is obviously happy with him. She's his wife. He's probably different around her than the rest of us."

Ron gets up sighing dramaticly, "I'm going to bed. Clearly, life has nothing left for me." "Ronald grow up!" Hermione shouts up to him from the bottom of the stairs.

"If anything I wonder what you see in him," I smirk. Hermione rolls her eyes before scooping up the rest of her books in her arms. "That makes two of us."

-

"Sleep well, Ron?" Ginny questions as we take a seat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. He gives her a look as he grabs some sausages putting them on his plate.

Hermione furrows her eyebrows looking over at Ginny. "Since when did you care what happens with him?" "Since I found out about Professor y/l/n. Heard she's been up to somethin. Just wonderin' how he's taking it."

"Shut your trap, Ginny!" Ron grumbles tossing a piece of sausage at her.

"Wait, how do you know about that?" I ask. She shrugs, "It's the talk of the school! It's been spreading like wildfire. I heard from some first-years about it this morning."

The three of us share a look before turning our gaze to Ginny. "Does... does everybody know?" Hermione bites her lip nervously. "At this point, I would assume so."

"Nice talking to ya Ginny. Will see you later." I say as Hermione and I stand up. Ron looks up at us confused. "Where are you guys going?" "Ronald get up!" "But we just started breakfast!"

"You won't get to finish it if Snape finds out who started this in the first place!" I hiss. "But it was you! I don't have any part in this!" Hermione rolls her eyes and grabs Ron's arm pulling him up. "Oi!"

Ginny's eyes widen. "You started it?" "Look Ginny we would appreciate it if you kept this quiet," I mutter. She nods. "Good luck." "What about my food?" Hermione grabs a piece of toast shoving it into Ron's mouth. "Come on lets go!"

The three of us quickly run back up to the common room. "Harry! What the hell mate?" Ron's voice is muffled as he finishes the last of his toast.  

"Hermione and I didn't even know about anything until you said something." He protests. "Ronald hush. If you didn't shout last night then nobody would have been paying attention in the first place!!"

He pauses the realization hitting him. "Oh... yeah. Sorry." He rubs the back of his neck nervously. "If anything it's your fault." I sigh. "Hermione putting the blame onto anyone isn't going to help. The bottom line is it was all three of us. Let's hope they didn't find out yet."

*Y/n POV*

My eyes flutter open as I glance over at the clock on my bedside table. I begrudgingly sit up just to be pulled down by a strong arm wrapped around my waist. "Severus," I murmur trying to loosen his strong grip around me.

He groans burying his face into my neck leaving light kisses. "Sev, we need to get up." He sighs, "Must you be so dreary?" I scoff. "Me? Dreary?"

He lets out a huff reluctantly moving away from my neck to rest his head against his pillow.

"I'm only stating you are quite boring." He teases. "I'm not boring!" I protest. "As much as I would love to stay in bed with you and do nothing all day, we have classes to teach."

He wraps his arm around me again and pulls me toward him. Causing me to let out a soft gasp. He places a gentle kiss to my lips as his fingers rub small circles on my stomach.

I smile to myself as I turn to look at the loving look plastered across my husband's face. He isn't the type of man to share his emotions. But the look in his eyes says all it needs to.

-

"Severus, I told you I'm fine." I chuckle as I walk in between him and Minerva. "No, you are not 'fine'." He retorts. "You can not skip breakfast! We have discussed this multiple times, love." "And I have told you time and time again that I'm not hungry."

"Y/n, dear, he's right. It would be best if you ate something. If not for you then for the baby." Minnie places a comforting hand on my shoulder. I know they are right. Of course, they are right. "I know I should but I just haven't been that hungry lately."

Severus lets out an audible sigh sending me a stern glare. We continue our walk down the corridor a few students giving us odd looks as we pass. "Um, anyone know what that was about?" I question glancing between the two.

They shake their heads just as confused as I am. I'm used to seeing Sev get looks from the students but this was different. Instead of fear, it was more like... curiosity? And possibly bewilderment? And it was directed toward me which is odd.

"Something's not right," I mutter as Minerva nods in agreement. We make our way into the Great Hall taking our seats. Filius sits between Minerva and Severus, and I am on his other side. I feel Sevs hand reach under the table to rest on my upper thigh.

"Good Morning Severus!" Filius says taking the napkin from his lap and wiping his lips. He gives him a polite nod in return as he brings a cup of coffee to his lips. "Oh, and I just heard the good news. Congratulations on the baby!"

Severus nearly choked on the coffee he was drinking. "I beg your pardon?" He questions as a quiet mumble of a curse escapes his lips. I turn to look at the charms professor in bewilderment. How does he know?

I turn my gaze to Severus who already has his eyes on me. "Did you tell him?" I question. He shakes his head. "I thought it was you." He admits as he turns to look back at the charms professor.

"Filius, how exactly do you know that?" He turns to look at me confusion etched across his features. "I heard some students discussing it this morning. I didn't know the students were aware of your relationship."

"They shouldn't be." Severus mumbles clenching his jaw.

"Minnie you haven't told anyone right?" She gives me a sweet smile and shakes her head. "That is not my information to share." "Then... who could it have been?" I question as she shrugs. "I think I might have an idea." Severus gets up from his seat and quickly heads toward the corridors outside the Great Hall.

I sigh, "Minnie this might take a bit. I might not make it back in time for the first classes. Could you watch them for me?" "Of course dear. You should probably settle this. Who knows what rumors have started." I give her a smile as I exit the Great Hall after Severus.

"Severus!" I call out as I chase after my husband. He stops spinning around to face me. "Yes?" "How could you possibly know who did this?" I now stand before him looking up into his dark onyx eyes.

"It was Potter." I scoff at his words crossing my arms. "How could it possibly be Potter?" He grabs my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine, dragging me to his classroom.  

Once we enter his classroom he locks the door. "It's best if we talk here. We don't need any unwanted attention." He walks over to sit at his desk. I follow sitting across from him. "Alright now how in fucks sake could it possibly be Potter?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Darling, you told me yesterday night. Potter was supposed to have a detention yesterday night. He must have been eavesdropping. It is the only possible explanation!"

"There are plenty of explanations as to why it isn't Potter!" He raises an eyebrow, "Well, go on." I pause mid-sentence. "Well, I-" He lets out a small hum of satisfaction. "Well, I didn't even see him when I was leaving!" I blurt out crossing my arms.

"He was most likely hiding." Shit. He has a point. "Okay fine! Maybe it was Potter! But that doesn't explain how the whole bloody school knows by now! I haven't even seen him at all this morning."

"Hmm, I wonder why." He mutters sarcastically. "Oh, hush! If it is Potter then Weasley and Granger probably have something to do with it too." He nods in agreement. "Seeing as we have no idea where they are we should probably ask Minnie what their schedules are."

"She's supposed to cover my first class for a bit. I can ask her then." I steal a quick glance at the clock. "Speaking of classes, they start soon." I stand up walking around his desk to give him a quick kiss. "I love you. I'll see you in a bit."

I start to turn away but he tugs me back. He pulls me down his lips returning to mine. "Love you more, darling." I smile against his lips. "Oh and what should we say if the students ask us anything?"

I pause in thought for a moment. "I don't see any point in hiding it anymore. They already know." His lip forms a line indicating his uncertainty. "Are you sure you want that? Your reputation could be ruined because of me and-"

I place my finger over his lips shutting him up. "I don't care what they think. If they don't like me much anymore that's okay. I have all I need right here." He smiles at my remarks kissing my forehead, "How did I get so lucky?" He mumbles. I sigh cheerfully. "I do really need to go now. I love you. I'll see you in a bit."

*Harry POV*

"Oh, we are so screwed." Ron groans. "Professor McGonagall just told us Snape wants to see us, Ron. Of course, we are screwed!!" I mutter as the three of us make our way down the stairs to the dungeons. "We are so lucky we didn't have potions today."

"No kidding." The three of us stop outside the door to his classroom. "How much trouble do you think we are in?" Hermiones whispers. "Well, it's also Professor Y/l/n. So hopefully not too much." Ron answers nervously. I hesitantly reach out my hand and knock.

*Y/n POV*

"Don't be too hard on them!" He scoffs rolling his eyes. "They exposed us. They are lucky I don't give them detention for the rest of the year." "First of all do not roll your eyes at me! I'm your wife. Not a student. Second, we don't know their side of the story. So yes Severus, do not be an arse."

He opens his mouth to retaliate but stops. "Sorry." He murmurs. I avoid his gaze, "I'm sorry too. You are not an arse." Our heads both turn to the door at the sound of a knock. "Come in"

The three of them walk in their eyes avoiding Snapes and focusing on me. "Can one of you explain why the whole school is aware of our relationship?" Snape questions glaring at the trio. The three of them look at me as if asking me to help them out.

"Well go on. He asked a question." Harry takes a breath before speaking. "I heard the two of you talking last night and I told Ron and Hermione." Snape sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. "That doesn't explain how the school knows."

"Well, a group of first years heard us talking out it last night, in the common room," Hermione looks over at me. "We weren't going to tell anyone. But they heard us. It was an accident we swear!"

"I don't think there is anything we can do about it at this point," I say trying toward my husband. "Weeks denention. For the three of you." Ron's mouth falls open a gasp of astonishment leaving his lips. "Make. That. Two." Snape growls. The two turn to give Ron a glare. "Now go before I change my mind." The three scramble out the door.

"They are something else." "Tell me about it." I turn to look at Severus. "You going to actually get some sleep tonight?" "I have paperwork to finish, dear." I smile kissing his forehead. "Just come to bed at a decent time. I love you."

"Goodnight, my love. I love you too."

Pt. 1 -> Secret Keepers

____________

OMG!! First off TY so much for my first request!! <3

Second, I'm sorry this took so long to complete I've been a bit busy!!

____________

REQUESTED BY: @thatlittlefangirl

____________

TAGLIST: @deej10 @delphineomam @psychobabie @strangesthirdeye @midwestemosblog @bloodycotton @theatreslave @rickmansnape @hiddlestonspassionsackx @tacorice @sorryimdyingrn @lady-severus-snape @orngecassidy @sw-sapphic @t-mitch24 @jamine-boi-124 @yaugnon @shortgirllopez @queershorty @thatpersonwithapurpose @caelestisae @brooklynllamaqueen @dreamshopesfantasies @ashdreams2023 @ashleefreak @c-kayp @deliriousdelirium @bat-queen-of-the-north @mushro00m @avdr @mija-novella @guyfuitty @ceon-ne @tamyllvitoria123 @helpyourselfwithcherrywine @feyluv @can-you-like-legit-not-dude @nooneeveryonenoone @theradkid @sinclairscountryhouse @annee-e @mint-snowflake @sunolls @eveysstuff @aquarius-460 @beepusagi @anne030100-blog @mvrlqni @leean6661312 @rainyaesthetic211 @val-l-ch @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @snapesno1thighrider

I wasn't able to tag everyone that read Pt.1 there was 200+ ppl🥲🙏

[libellule-ao3]

Distorted Mirrors

OS written and shared for @tamayula-hl 😊

OS | Rating: T | Sebastian x MC (Sakurako) | approx. 1900 words.

A/N: Upon reading her HC [Link] about the relationship between Sebastian and Sakurako, I was immediately struck by the circumstances of Sebastian’s first marriage proposal. This passage encompassed everything I love to explore: angst, the complexity of toxic relationships, tortured characters, and Sebastian’s duality. The section written from his POV was the first piece I drafted about this pairing, but I needed more time to better understand Sakurako before daring to explore her perspective, which is nevertheless essential to this fanfiction. This OS is, above all, a tribute to the depth @tamayula-hl brings to her characters & their dynamics.

As always, I hope it resonates with you, despite any potential missteps or errors on my part (ESL writer). 🤞

Summary:

As Sebastian desperately tries to keep Sakurako by his side, even resorting to manipulating her feelings and forcing her into an impossible choice, she questions their future, torn between her love for him and the realisation of their relationship’s toxicity.

Sebastian

Something was wrong.

He could feel it in the way Sakurako’s gaze fled his, in the distance that grew between them or in the silences that stretched like shadows at dusk, filled with unspoken words.

Their love seemed to fade little by little, to become a kind of mirage, and this thought took his breath away, leaving him suspended on the edge of emptiness. Since the catacombs, since Solomon’s death and losing Anne, who refused to forgive him, everything that had once been solid in his life was now in ruins.

Even Ominis had grown somewhat distant, tired of his excesses.

Sakurako, for her part, had picked up the pieces of what was left of him, reassembling them into something fragile but real. She had become the glue that held the shattered fragments of his being together, and he couldn’t lose her. Not after everything they’d been through.

The panic that surged inside him at this threat was cold and implacable, a terror that only grew with each moment he saw her slipping further away. He knew their bond was imperfect, born of helplessness and despair, nourished by loneliness and grief. And yet it was impossible to let go. She was his reason for living, the only thread holding him back from the precipice.

Ominis had said it was an addiction, a desperate need, but in his eyes, it was love. His only love. Should this embrace prove more toxic than a constrictor snake’s, then so be it!And so an idea came to him.

A desperate plan, dictated by his visceral fear: seal their fate in front of everyone in the Great Hall. A public scene that would leave no room for escape, trapping Sakurako under the weight of hundreds of stares. She hated being the centre of attention and would never have the strength to say "no" in such a situation. That was precisely why he had chosen this moment, this place. It was cruel, perhaps, but he couldn’t lose her — not after everything they had endured.

When the day came, Sebastian felt the little suede case in his pocket, a weight reminding him at every moment of the importance of what he was about to do. The Great Hall was noisy, full of life, laughter and cross-talk, but to him it all seemed strangely distant, as if he were observing the scene through a pane of glass. His eyes finally found Sakurako entering the Great Hall with Poppy Sweeting, who was no doubt telling her some new anecdote about magical creatures. She looked so far away, out of reach, and this distance rekindled his fear like a bright flame.

He made his way towards her, ignoring the intrigued looks, the silent disapproval of Ominis and the whispers as he passed. When he stopped in front of her, he dropped to his knees and all the hubbub in the room died down; the conversations suspended in palpable anticipation. Poppy slipped discreetly away, leaving Sakurako facing him, exposed to all eyes. He saw her swallow, her gaze shifting from him to the jewellery box he was taking out, then to the dozens of curious faces around them.

“Sakurako,” he said, his voice sounding louder than he’d intended.He gave her the most charming smile in his repertoire as he opened the box to reveal a beautiful engagement ring.

“I know I’m not perfect, that I’ve made mistakes, but I love you more than anything, and I can’t imagine my life without you. So let me ask you–”

His hands trembled with emotion. His eyes sought hers, begging for an answer, but all he saw was surprise, hesitation, a thinly veiled fear...

She wanted to flee... It was as plain as the nose on her face.

Sebastian chose to ignore this. He couldn’t back down now.

“–Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

The question wasn’t really a question. It was a plea. A disguised injunction. A trap set with which she could only escape by daring to face the silent judgement of all those witnesses.

She smiled, but it was a vulnerable smile, more fragile than a fairy wing, ready to break at any moment. Yet he clung to it like a castaway to a plank.A soft, barely audible “Yes” came from her, requiring him to strain his ear to catch it.

Relief flooded through him, accompanied by a thunder of applause, cheers and festive whistles, eliminating everything in its path, chasing away all shadows and doubts to make way for an overwhelming sense of victory. He slipped the ring onto her finger and rose to kiss her, ignoring the trembling of her lips, the restraint of her tongue and the rigidity of her body against his.

It didn’t matter.

Sakurako was his, and she would never leave.

A little voice inside him, which sounded strangely like Ominis’s, reminded him a heart captured through cunning is not truly won. But Sebastian refused to listen.

As long as Sakurako remained by his side, he would do anything to convince himself that everything would be all right.

Sakurako

Sakurako knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t something she could name straight away, but it persisted, heavy and insistent, in the burning heat of Sebastian’s gaze.

She could see it in the way his eyes locked onto her, as if he had been memorising every detail, like a man etching in his mind a shoreline doomed to disappear beneath the waves.

She could hear it in the silence after his laugh had died down.

She perceived it from his smiles that flickered too quickly, an unease settling in their wake.Sebastian had always been intense. That intensity had been part of what had drawn her to him in the first place – the fierce, burning love that had threatened to consume him completely. The relentless need to protect those he loved, even if it meant ignoring their boundaries – or trampling everything in his path.

But lately, that flame had been extinguished, its light replaced by a dark, oppressive pressure. It was something she couldn’t explain, but she could feel it, suffocating in the silence.

Sakurako loved him. She didn’t doubt it, just as she didn’t doubt the ache that gripped her chest – a weight that felt as much as freedom as captivity.

She loved him with a strength that left no room for anything else. And yet, sometimes, a cruel thought made its way into her heart:

Did Sebastian really love her, or just his idea of her?

Was she just a figure of attachment shaped by the absences of Anne, Solomon, and all that he had lost?

Their love was anything but light.

The witch sometimes compared it to a vine that wrapped itself around the two of them, holding them up even though it threatened to strangle them. Together, they held on, but at what price?

Sakurako lived with the quiet certainty that one day Sebastian would see the truth. He would look at her and realise that his love was born out of nothing but grief. A desperate attempt to fill the void.

And when that day would come, she feared his gaze might burn her just as intensely, but this time with resentment. Then in her worst nightmares, his voice echoed with dreaded words:

“It’s all your fault.”

Words she feared all the more because they were true. If she hadn’t helped Sebastian, none of this would have happened.

As she began to imagine her life after Hogwarts, a decision took shape, a choice so devastating it tore at her heart: she had to leave him.

It was not a resolution taken lightly. On the contrary, it was a carefully considered necessity.

Love should never feel like a prison. Nor be tainted by insecurity.

So Sakurako wrote him a letter. It was less complicated this way. Face to face, she would waver, as she always did when he was close to her. In this message, she expressed her love for him, reminded him of their wounds, and their need for time to heal, to rebuild... one without the other.

She waited until the following Saturday to give it to him, a day devoid of classes when it would be easier to avoid any confrontation while waiting for him to digest the news. But Sebastian, it seemed, had his own plans.

A few days later, as she entered the Great Hall with Poppy for dinner, the atmosphere changed. The steady hum of conversation faded, replaced by murmurs and a tangible sense of anticipation. That’s when she saw him approaching in long strides. Each of his steps struck the stone, the sharp cluck of his shoes asserting his unyielding presence in the crowded room. His face showed determination, and his aura dominated the space. Her heart compressed in her chest as she guessed what he was about to do before he even reached her.

“Sebastian, no! Not here... Please… Not like this…” she screamed in her mind.

But the words wouldn’t come out. They were stuck in her throat, and she felt trapped by a hundred stares. Slowly, he knelt down in front of her and took a small box out of his pocket.

“Sakurako,” he began, “I know I’m not perfect, that I’ve made mistakes, but I love you more than anything else in the world, and I can’t imagine my life without you. So, let me ask you–”

The Earth turned upside down. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her hands were clammy and trembling. Her instincts were screaming at her to say no, to stop before it was too late. But she was frozen, trapped by the unbearable weight of all those stares.All those expectant faces, those smiles filled with envy, preventing her from catching her breath.

To refuse here and now was to condemn Sebastian to public humiliation. He knew that.

An affront she didn’t have the strength to inflict on him. He knew that, too.

Her panicked gaze swept around the Great Hall, like a condemned prisoner looking for a miracle. But wherever her eyes landed, she was met only with envious faces or faces eager to hear her acceptance, adorned with a naïve smile that knew nothing of the storm inside her. Every whisper, every glance seemed to tighten the invisible chains that imprisoned her. Silent witnesses to her surrender, unaware that every second they were forging the bars of a cage she had never chosen.

He looked at her, his features taut with a fragile balance of hope and despair. The cold possessiveness in his brown eyes was a shadow she couldn’t ignore.

Saying “no” would break him. Saying “yes” meant surrendering to a gilded cage.

Her lips almost parted of their own accord, betraying a “yes” she desperately wanted to stifle. Three little letters that left a taste of ash in her mouth. Glowing, he stood up, slipping the ring onto her finger with a trembling, practically feverish hand.When he kissed her, the warmth of his lips contrasted cruelly with the coldness of the stone in her stomach. She remained motionless, unable to respond to his passion, while in the back of her mind, church bells announced, not their union, but his triumph.

Her conscience whispered that she had just made a terrible mistake. And her heart clung to the hope that perhaps, in time, they could learn to love each other as they deserved.

But Sakurako knew it wouldn’t be easy. With Sebastian, nothing ever was.

Masterlist

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The fandom can't make up its mind on what's supposed to be a joke and what's supposed to be serious because the show can't either half the time. It's a tonally disjointed mess that wants to have absurd over-the-top humor as well as a plot and moments of drama, romance, and angst that demand you see the characters as people and feel for what they're going through. Except you can't do that without also treating the dumb bullshit in a somewhat grounded way. Like, you're still dealing with the same characters. You can't just go "Oh, that? Let's ignore that!" the moment it's no longer convenient to you. You've opened this can of worms and now you have to sleep in it. So, every character flip-flops between two different versions of themselves depending on what the writers need in any particular scene.

This is not to say surreal humor can't be used right alongside characters you're supposed to empathize with, Teen Titans (not Go) did that and it worked. It's just that the absurdity can only come from the setting (Mad Mod, Mother Mae-Eye, pretty much anything Control Freak is in) or from designated joke characters (Date With Destiny). Teen Titans never had the main characters acting in clearly absurd ways as the butt of a joke unless those characters were brainwashed somehow, because the writers knew that would ruin any of the more grounded moments they wanted to write. The writers of Miraculous missed the memo on that one.

I don't disagree. A perfect example is Derision where the show takes all of the bad jokes about Marinette's crush and decides to take them seriously as if you can possible take them seriously without making Marinette come across as unhinged and dangerous. You can't, which brings us to the topic at hand: how do you even begin to understand these characters when the show is constantly making character-breaking choices?

My approach - and the approach I recommend others take if they're going to keep watching the show - is to focus on the characters' cores and reject anything canon does to violate those cores. I don't argue for this stance because I love the characters so much that I only want the good things to count. I take this stance because, if you don't, then the characters fall apart. There is no way to make them work as fully realized characters while embracing every choice canon has made. Miraculous has massive characterization issues that go well beyond the humor.

For example, Adrien has multiple moments of terrible behavior that are played in a serious manner such as the moment in the episode Frozer where he tries to start a fight with Ladybug in the middle of an akuma attack because she wouldn't accept a rose from him earlier:

Setup

Ladybug: I can't accept this rose from you. I told you already. I'm in love with someone else. Cat Noir: I know, M'lady. But if he weren't here, would things be different between us? Ladybug: Well, you know, I can't even begin to imagine him not being here. I'm sorry, Cat Noir. I really gotta get going, and you better do the same. (Swings her yo-yo to head back home; Cat Noir is sad, looking downwards, with one petal of the rose falling.)

Payoff

Ladyice: Cat Noir. We need to set up a trap for whoever turned the city into a giant ice rink. (throws yo-yo) Icecat: (bitterly) My feline instincts prefer to track and observe before I attack. You go your way, I'll go mine. Ladyice: Please don't tell me you're mad at me about the rose. Icecat: There may be a certain chill now between us. Ladyice: I get it, but we should really focus on saving Paris right now. Icecat: We don't always have to do everything together, after all. It's not like we're a couple. (skates away)

There's no way to argue this off as a bad joke. While Adrien has every right to feel hurt, those feelings don't excuse him acting like a pouting child in the middle of an akuma fight. It doesn't excuse him acting like this at any point! Ladybug is not a villain for telling him no. She wasn't even mean about it!

I clearly fully agree that Adrien looks awful and selfish here, but I'd still argue that it's not something that should be used to define Adrien's character if your goal is to tell the "ideal" version of Miraculous. "Ideal" being the version that canon seems to be going for based on the overall picture we can sort of make out if we back way, way, way up and look at the extremely abstract picture canon is clumsily painting.

Unless canon is going to do something monumentally stupid, Adrien is Marinette's endgame romantic interest. It's also clear that there is no plan to cut him from the team. He's going to be Chat Noir for the rest of his life or at least well into his adulthood. This means that he is supposed to be a good hero who deserves his miraculous just like he's supposed to be a charming and cute romantic lead. These are the two things I keep in mind when trying to shift through canon to figure out what writing choices I should fully embrace and what writing choices I have to either ignore or treat as true flaws that get an actual character arc. In my book, either approach is fine because most of the characters are deeply flawed at this point and you can't give them all arcs without bloating the story to nonsense levels.

My goal with this approach is never to say, "oh, that moment shouldn't count in terms of how people feel about the character." It's more, "that moment goes so hard against who this character is very clearly supposed to be that I can't take it into account if I want to tell the kind of story that Miraculous is trying (and clearly failing) to tell."

As an example, let's list off Adrien's worst behaviors. The things that make him look terrible:

He sucks at communicating his needs and feelings, leading to multiple moments where he gets mad at Ladybug for things she's totally unaware of

He has quit or considered quitting without warning multiple times and only one of those was because of something he did "wrong" (NYC Special)

He puts his feelings before the safety of Paris on multiple occasions, even going so far to purposely miss akuma fights to see what happens

He is incredibly pushy about his crush, often ignoring Ladybug's feelings on the topic by continuing to bring it up even after she asked him to stop

There have been multiple instances where he almost cataclysmed multiple people in a fit of anger

His love for Ladynette isn't strong enough to let him break free of things like akumas and nightmare dust even when he's looking her in the eyes making him a pretty crappy romantic lead

People will argue that some of this behavior makes sense for his character because of the abuse that canon has technically introduced, but that the writers seem blissfully unaware of. I don't disagree with that argument, but that doesn't change the fact that none of this is acceptable behavior for a hero and Adrien is a hero who keeps doing these things. A sad backstory doesn't give you the right to behave poorly without consequences.

At the same time, if I fully embrace these elements of canon, what I get is an Adrien salt fic where he loses his miraculous for good while Marinette finds her real true love or even just a non-salty fic where Adrien leaves for his own meatal health and gets replaced by someone who can handle being a hero right now. Canon's not writing either of those, so the only way to engage with these flaws while enjoying canon or aiming for the same end goals as canon is to say, "I guess this doesn't count" or "I guess I need to tone this way down and work through it via a character arc" or even "I guess that was just a bad joke maybe?"

That is the essence of what I mean when I call myself a writing salt, character sugar blog. It comes from looking at canon and seeing that there's simply no way to embrace the worst moments and the best at the same time. We're not dealing with a coherent plot and/or complex characters. We're dealing with a nonsense plot that will warp the characters to bizarre shapes to make random ideas work even if those idea go wildly against canon's end goals.

As an example, Glaciator and Frozer should not exist in the same universe or, at the very least, something should explain why Chat Noir randomly changed his stance on Ladybug's crush from acceptance to pushiness. As is, the pieces don't fit together. The behavior is too contradictory. Remember, this is how Glaciator ends:

Perhaps Ladybug will love me someday. I mean, like, I love her. I have to believe. In the meantime, her friendship is the best gift of all.

Where did this version of Adrien go? Why did he regress in Frozer? There's no in-universe reason. It happened because the writers weren't ready to let the love square date or grow close, but they also wanted the love square to cause drama, so Adrien ends up looking terrible just like Marinette ends up looking terrible when it's her turn to cause love square drama. Her terribleness takes a different flavor so it can be hard to realize that this is a systemic issue, but that's what it is. It's deeply frustrating, but it also clearly stems from cheap writing and not quality characterization.

This is also why my stance is that canon as a whole only supports my Doyalistic core-character analysis style of approach. The writing is too poor quality to do Watsonian analysis where you embrace the full picture and try to put it all together. The closest I'll get to Watsonian analysis is pointing out how much the writing botches a Watsonian take by showing you all the way the writing contradicts itself, twisting into a nonsense pretzel of frustration where the payoffs never satisfy! (See the season four rant for an example or anything where I talked about Chloe's supposed damnation arc.)

There are even characters where canon is such a total mess that you can Doyalistically argue for two separate takes! Gabriel is a perfect example. He is all over the place and his ending was so poorly handled that you can make strong arguments for writing him as a cold-hearted villain or a sympathetic villain without the end result feeling like it spits in the face of canon because both takes maintain his one core element: villain.

That's the big thing I keep in mind when I look at the characters and the lore and the plots and try to come up with versions that the average fan would like. I don't think that there's one true version of any of these things, but I do feel comfortable saying that there are versions that will very clearly only appeal to people who are salty about a specific thing that canon did poorly. That's not who I want to appeal to in my adaptions, so while I'm not going to argue that those takes have no backing in canon, I will argue that those takes are not supported by canon as a whole. Embracing them requires you to take the worst parts of canon at face value while ignoring what canon is clearly trying to do with the overall story.

I get the appeal of that, but it's not fun for me because that approach feels like rolling around in the mud with the pigs. I don't want to sink to canon's level! I want to have fun! That's why I talk about how to make canon into its best self, not its worst self. If you want its worst self, just go watch the actual show. I will be shocked it if disappoints you.

[interlunium-opus]

► TEMPESTUOUS DESIRES [Jake.]

Abstract: For a messenger of love who effortlessly intertwines hearts, Jake himself remains untouched by the desires he kindles. This wasn’t a problem until he met you. Being disinterested in love and somehow always able to evade his shots, you soon became the object of his fixation but those very pure intentions to find you a good match soon gave way to obsession and temptations. As his golden arrows can’t be used to bewitch you to him, he ended up delving further into darkness where the lines between love and obsessions becomes blurred, corrupted by the insatiable need to own and possess you for himself. As he spirals down this treacherous path, he becomes entangled in a web of deception and manipulation, forsaking his once noble purpose.

Genre: fantasy | forbidden romance | supernatural | mythology | wc: 13k

a/n: inspired by New Jeans “Cool With You”. This has been marinating in the drafts for who-knows-how-long now. My brain can't shut up so here it is finally. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it. Do leave me some feedbacks or comments, it keeps me from sliding back to hiatus and descend down the writer's block hellhole lol.

© 2024 interlunium-opus. All rights reserved. Do not plagiarize, post or translate anywhere.

— i.

Figuratively and literally, Jake leaves trail of attraction and desire in his wake. As a messenger of love with unparalleled mental acuity and formidable archery skills, every arrow he draws from his quiver meet its target with unerring accuracy, ensnaring the unsuspecting victim with someone who is best matched, trapping them in a web of attraction and desires that would last the test of time. But it is not just his archery that captivates; Jake's ethereal presence, striking good looks, and flirtatious nature are a force of nature in their own right — captivating both humans and non-humans, leaving trails of attractions, desires and temptations in his wake.

He would have made the perfect Messenger of Love — one who is poised to go down in history. After all, the prevailing modern mindset which glorifies individualism and instant gratification has put lasting love in the backseat, making the job harder for the other Messengers of Love who could only strike attraction and lusts that lasts for one night. Hence, with every union that Jake successfully brought, he had become somewhat of a legend — someone with an innate, perhaps unlearnable, understanding of what makes love lasts.

Except, the truth is not as rosy. 

While beings like him are capable of feeling the emotions and desires that humans feel, Jake himself remains untouched by the all-consuming desires he sparks in others. His mental acuity helped him understood the mechanics of love — an intricate dance of personalities and the delicate balance of emotions — but the feeling itself eludes him. While he used to see it as a flaw when he was young, he now understood that it was this very detachment that grants him an edge in the field. Unburdened by personal biases or the clouding of intense emotions, Jake is able to navigate around with a clear and calculated mindset that allows him to dissect the intricacies of human nature, identifying the traits and compatibilities that foster enduring connections. 

Such mental acumen however, while providing him with a detached understanding, fails to bridge the gap between intellectual knowledge and the visceral experience of love’s consuming fire. In fact, despite all the flirtatious banter, sweet nothings and passionate touches he is capable of engaging and eliciting — his feelings remain only surface deep, that of attraction and lust which dissipates as soon as his conquests are bedded.

Perhaps it is exactly this lack of attachment that fuels his libertine tendencies — one that has been increasingly trangressed boundaries as he sought to not just bed his own kind but also humans, despite such liaisons being frowned upon. Perhaps the excitement and thrill of forbidden liasons is what he revelled in or perhaps, without him realising, he was seeking to fill in the void within himself which grows with each connection he forged.

Regardless. Tonight, was one of those days.

Assuming his human form — which is similar to his usual form except for the lip ring, gigantic wings and laurel wreath — he crashed into an after-party of a prestigious award ceremony, eyes immediately set on the apple of everyone’s eyes: the current IT girl of the industry whose looks could rival those from his realm. She was like a vision of ethereal beauty. Her doe-like eyes were large and expressive, capable of softening the hardest of hearts; her lips was full and luscious — both innocent and tantalizing — inviting unspoken desires; her slender frame, with its graceful lines and subtle curves, captured the essence of feminity, evoking not just attraction but a sense of protectiveness.

Jake smirked as his mind parsed her life history and pieced out the kind of person she was, finding his competitiveness instantly triggered the moment he learned of her iron-clad discipline and control when it comes to romance. As a young woman in a competitive industry that is still plagued with double standards against women, she knew her success stands at a precipice so despite all the love interests showered towards her over the years – she managed to stave them off, no matter how tempting. She had it all under control and she was poised for greater things given her diligence and discipline. 

But then she met Jake’s eyes and for the first time in her life, she felt her guards threatening to crack especially at the weight of Jake’s unflinching and seductive gaze throughout the night. Jake didn’t even need his poisoned arrows for he, himself, was almost like the poison that is laced over his arrow tips — the very object of desire for almost anyone he decides to charm. 

The next thing you knew, they were already locking lips in the hallway, the act of which quickly escalated as they moved to the van, hands absolutely glued to one another, roaming freely and wildly, before it all culminated in throes of passion that lasted for hours on her bed — a place she vowed never to bring a man over. Like the torn designers over the floor, all traces of controlled perfection she had masterfully maintained over the years crumbled under the weight of Jake’s intoxicating touch and seductive sweet-nothings. She was absolutely moonstruck and Jake did not even need his arrows for it.  

“You’re going to have to call in sick tomorrow if this goes on-” Jake mumbled in between the soft kisses that he trails down her neck as she whimpered his name again and again, delirious in pleasure while begging him not to ever let go, promising him absolutely everything — from her money to her career.

“Look at the industry sweetheart,” Jake cooed, eyes adoring what he had made out of her: a whimpering and clingy mess that is completely seized in desires and lust, “what would they say if they see you like this?”

She shook her head, breathing ragged from the umpteenth high she had raked with Jake, before pulling him into a hungry and messy kiss. “Love,” Jake mumbled in between kisses, saliva stretching between their lips, “you’re tired. It’s time to go to sleep.”

“You’re not going to leave me right?” she stared at him all bleary-eyed. Jake simply smiled, rubbing her cheeks softly as she tried hard to keep her lids open against the enchantments that Jake had justwhispered into her system, “this is all just a dream.”

And just like that, he would become a mere figment of a dream for her — just like all the other human he had bedded before. Sure, it was hypocritical of him to play around with them like that but he always reassured himself sickeningly that he wasn’t doing any harm by doing so. If anything he just gave yet another human a good time — a time they would never find in the touch of any other human. He also induced partial amnesia in them so that they would not go insane from longing for him. It’s a win-win, Jake thought to himself, smirking, as he pulled his suit over, fixing the placement of his lip ring with a flick of his tongue.

As he climbed out of the window ledge however, he heard the familiar sound of wings fluttering.

“Sooner or later, they’re going to catch on Jake.” Jake knew who it was immediately.

“Stalking me isn’t going to rake you scores Sunoo,” Jake scoffed as he turned around, meeting the eyes of the pale messenger who used to be his deskmate during his training days, “you’d be better off striking hearts instead. Your scores last quarter is dangerously low – you know you’d get demoted if you keep at it right?”

Sunoo swallowed thickly, “I can’t help it, love doesn’t last that long anymore these days. I can’t strike their hearts to one another knowing that it will only end in heartbreak.”

“That is exactly your flaw. You care far too much,” Jake sighed, “Come on, our threshold for successful matches is only in love that lasts for 5 years. Just keep that as a goal — ignore what happens within and beyond and you’re on your way to glory.”

“Not all relationship that lasts 5 years is love,” Sunoo’s voice hardened, eyes quivering as if trying to not believe the words that came out of Jake.

“Does it matter?” Jake shrugged, “love takes various forms. Innocent, tempestuous, scandalous, obsessive, toxic. Whatever happens, heartbreaks are part and parcel of life isn’t it? If it’s too much, we can always mend their heart by latching them onto another which then counts into our tallies and-“

“They’re not mere scores Jake. Hearts can break irreparably,” Sunoo interjected, brows twitching in what looked like a mixture of disbelief and disappointment, “you’ve changed.”

“As if you haven’t,” Jake winked as he slipped off the windowsill, his large wings fluttering open, keeping him afloat, “I know you’ve ventured down the Abyss to procure certain spells to alter your scores every quarter Sunoo,” Jake smirked, feeling triumphant at the hint of guilt evident on Sunoo’s gaze, “you’re not anymore moral nor ethical as I am. It's okay, we all got our vices. Just keep out of my affairs Sunoo and we’re cool.”

And just like that he disappeared, feeling re-energised from his night-long endeavour. In fact, he raked more scores than normal that day — the success of which was also aided by the fact that it was the first sunny day after weeks of torrential rain, bringing more people out and about, all in their Sunday best and in the brightest of moods, making it easier for his poisoned arrows to work its magic.

That was probably why you stuck out like a sore thumb to him when he was lingering at the traffic intersection for in the midst of people in bright and colourful get-up, with a delightful expression to match, you were decked in monochrome, with expressions so somber and eyes on your phone screen. When you finally looked up, your face contorted into a grimace, absolutely disgusted by the couple who was kissing in front of you.

The so-called Love cynics, Jake remembered a lesson back then, someone who is aversed to love. Could be Asexual, could be a product of trauma, could be just hardened by age and cynical outlook. They will be the hardest to bend but the biggest of catches. Jake’s hand was already reaching for another arrow in his quiver, his mind working hard in analysing your personality and trying to match it with dozen of other men within the vicinity — the perfect match of which he found in no time at the PhD student just across with whom you could share your intellectual interests with and with whom your more rational and logical tendencies could live in harmony with.

“Perfect,” Jake thought to himself as he directed his arrow in your direction, the strings taut in his fingers. Just 2 seconds after the light had turned green, Jake let his arrow go. That was an easy kill, Jake smirked triumphantly, confident that his calculations on timing, distance and strength, would have struck you precisely when the other guy would have come into your direct line of sight.

But then you suddenly ducked and all hell breaks loose for not only had Jake missed but his arrow struck the worst of targets: an expecting mother and, just across, a man who was on his way to his own wedding. It was a potential multiple breach of ethics that would have summoned him right to the Court Office.

“Fuck,” Jake cussed, blazing past the throng of crowd, scrambling for a lead-tipped arrow that is meant to reverse his magic, and stabbing it onto the woman just seconds away before she lurched towards the man.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, puzzled, as the lady who had stopped right in front of him with arms outstretched paused, looking dazed, before apologising. Jake exhaled sharply at the close call. Brushing his hair back in annoyance, he looked around, eyes frantically scanning for the you - the troublemaker - though by then you were long gone, swallowed by the bustling crowd.

“That’s a bit annoying,” Jake grumbled, shooting another arrow at someone else whom he quickly found a match for on the other side of the road. That union, he projected, would last at least 9 years but even that couldn’t quell the distaste he felt in his mouth after his near-miss – the distaste of which lasted almost all day despite the successes he raked.

And so that night, he stayed back in the human world during forbidden hours, finding you very easily through his network of friends. While you weren’t his first miss, you somehow continued to linger at the back of his mind, haunting him all day.

Sitting by your windowsill, he observed your every move as if you were a specimen to behold. He watched you get so engrossed in your report; watched you get annoyed by how your regressions didn’t come out the way you expected; watched in amusement at the way you’d accidentally dozed off, only to spring back to typing when you jolted awake.

“What are you so engrossed in?” Jake wondered out load as he floated inside, peeking over your shoulders, “Aww,” he cooed, “look at you, burning the midnight oil to finish up a policy paper to save the poor,” he sat onto the empty space on your table, next to your screen, “but who’s going to save you, you miserable poor loveless thing.”

“I could I guess,” he brought his knees up, hugging it close to his chest, “I do love a challenge,” he mumbled, chin resting on his knee as he watched you with a specific glint in his eyes, “I’ll make your first your last, how’s that?” 

It shouldn’t be hard, he thought, after all, there are 8 billion of people in this world. There are already about a hundred in your apartment building and a couple of hundreds more in your office block, and a couple hundred thousands more between your journeys. The probability is enormous, the possibility is endless, he smirked to himself as he lowered his face towards you, leaning in so as to whisper something in your ear, “you’ll thank me.”

Such optimism and excitement however quickly dissipated in the span of a few days as you somehow magically always evaded his golden arrows in time, causing him to have to use his expensive and hard-acquired lead-tipped arrows to reverse most of the effects. 

“You can’t see me right?” Jake floated in front of you, waving his hand maniacally before inching his face so close towards you as if trying to confirm whether or not you had a built-in radar for him.

As he parsed your history more, it became clearer just how difficult it would be to match you with anyone. Not only was your interest in a getting a partner or dating almost nil but you minimise any opportunities to find one as well: not engaging in social niceties beyond necessary; being oblivious to any interests towards your way; distancing yourself when you detect any hint of interest; and the list goes on. Indeed a ‘Love Cynic’ to the T.

The thing about hardened love cynics is that, while they are the biggest catch, they could also be your biggest downfall if you fail. This is because love cynics, once heartbroken, would feel despair and anguish like none other which just serves to fuel their skepticism and opposition to love afterwards – the result of which would burn holes in the records of any messengers who was in charge of them. Hence, they are always avoided especially by the average messengers.

But then again, Jake was not just your average messenger. He was amongst the best, rivalling some of his predecessors even with some scores made in turning love cynics around. So it was not all surprising just how obsessed he was with getting you a match.

One day, an opportunity came in a silver platter for him as the elevator you guys were in opened to a lad from IT, whose attraction for you was very evident from the way his face lit up, “y/n, it’s a been a while!”

“Well would you look at that,” Jake sung as he pulled an arrow from his quiver, grinning triumphantly. Jake did not even need to parse his mind to see the interest he had for you as it drips from his gaze to his voice. But as he looked back at you, who had shot the other guy the briefest of smile before whipping your phone up to mindlessly scroll your email, Jake’s grin immediately faltered. “You are seriously helpless y/n,” Jake sighed, looking almost as if he was in a trance as he inched closer, pressing the golden-tipped arrow against your back – the puncture of which would have struck your right through your heart, “your attitude needs fixing y/n or else you’ll never find someone—”

Jake was really just 3 seconds away from puncturing you when you recoiled. He initially thought you might have somehow felt the sharpness of his arrow but turned out the guy’s hand was just trailing languidly down your arm.

“Are you still angry about last time?” the man scoffed, the seemingly-warm smile fading almost immediately, “I told you last time, that night was a mistake. I was drunk and I tried to kiss you. That was it. I didnt even managed to do it since-“

“I don’t care about your reasons, you crossed the line,” you replied curtly, “and right now you are one step away from crossing another line. Remember what HR said last time? The next time it happens, they’re just one visit away and you’d immediately be out of the Ministry.”

His lips contorted into a wry grin, the annoyance becoming evident in his voice and face, “you must feel all high and mighty just because you’re in a more superior position than me,” he inched closer, looming ominously, “do you really want to know what true assaults are like-“

Almost too calmly, you hit one of the elevator buttons, its door opening just 3 floors before your destination as you turned your phone towards him, the screen showing a recording in progress, “show your face to me once again and this recording will get sent straight to a public forum. You won’t just be laid off here but this would burn holes in your record making it hard for you to find a new job.”

The man backed away finally, looking every bit flustered, “no wonder you’re still single, you’re a fucking witch-“

“And you’re just one fucking phone call away from being hauled off,” you interjected as you stepped out of the elevator despite it being 3 floor away from your destination. You hear him mutter curses loudly as you walked away. 

Jake was still open-mouthed as he trailed behind you, “that was,” he caught up, hands clapping, “pretty badass. I really thought I needed to step in for a second there but you,” he slipped through the closing door of the emergency staircase which you had just opened, “you were fearless. You were-“ he stopped short as he watched you stood immobile as soon as you entered the emergency stairwell. As if losing the strength in your knees, you leaned weakly against the door, head bowed down.  

Jake watched in confusion as you slid down, your breathing growing rapid, chest heaving, hands trembling as you muttered through gritted teeth, “get it together, y/n. It’s nothing.”

Jake knelt next to you, his mind delving into a specific parcel of memory from the night when you first met the guy earlier — the night when, under the pretense of drunkenness, had tried to corner you into an empty meeting room and tried to kiss you. “Shit,” Jake finally said, brows furrowing in a mixture of concern and guilt. Just moments ago, his competitiveness could have gotten you ensnared with the guy who almost assaulted you — the guy who had caused so much terror in you.

“I’m sorry,” he scooted closer now, feeling guilty. Now Jake may not be a saint nor would he call himself virtuous by any means but he was no devil either. As much as you grinds his gears with your aromantic and callous ways he would never match you with someone like that. 

He sunk beside you, forlorn, his hands ghosting your shoulders. He wanted to apologise but it's not like you could hear him anyway. He wanted to comfort you but his hands would just go through you. He felt oddly powerless. So instead, he stayed next to you in silence, straining his muscles so that his arms just ghost around your shoulders. When you finally calmed down, you leaned back against the door, exhaling sharply. 

Jake watched you intently, his gaze softening. “You know what,” he muttered quietly, “I’ll find you a really good guy — someone who will give you the world. Give you everything.”

For the first time in a while he didn’t see a mere tally to be crossed off the list. Instead he saw a person — a person who deserved the best and most purest form of love he was capable of finding. He rose up, his body curling over your back, leaning down to whisper a promise in your ear, “I give you my word.”

— ii.

Days turned to months and still Jake Sim could not find a match for you. Except this time, the fault lay mostly in him for he could not find anyone good enough for you. They are always lacking or excessive in something and he didn’t want to risk it falling apart. 

Not for you at least. 

And so in between entwining others’ hearts, he would linger around you, following you closely wherever you go, whatever you do. Like a specimen to behold, he watches your every movement and ponder over it up to the point that he remembers your habits and quirks like the back of his hand: how you like your coffee; how salty you like your food to be; the detours you take; your music tastes; the changes in your jogging routes; when you will get cold; when you’d start getting bored of something; and so on.

Eventually, it all fell into a routine. As you settle into your home, he settles with you – as if he belonged there. As you try things out and push boundaries, Jake was also always around, cheering you on – as if his morale support counts. As you considered your choices such as during shopping or working, Jake would share his thoughts and opinions about it to you as well – as if you could even hear him. 

Soon he begun to fill in the silences with you, telling you of his day; the matches he made; the realm he is from; his past and so on – venting on and on, as if you could hear him. 

And whenever you retire to bed at night, he no longer takes it as his cue to return to his realm. Instead he settled right next to you — watching you over like a Guardian Angel.

At least that’s what he deluded himself of until his eyes begun to wander farther each nights, pulling his mind deeper into the recesses of which he never ventured to before with you. It started slow, from eyes wandering, tracing the outlines of your face and body; to gaze lingering at your lips and your exposed skin, heartbeat racing as he wondered how they would feel under his. Soon he would find his hands balling into fists, fighting an invisible battle between desire and duty. Still he could never tear his gaze away from you.

The true test however came one night when you suddenly rolled over to his side, your face perfectly aligned with the crook of his neck and your hand perfectly landing to where his hand was. While this was nothing major compared to whatever he had gotten up to in the sheets, it sent his heart racing like none other. Almost automatically, he brought his hand up to your face, ghosting the outlines of your jaw, pausing by your chin as his gaze become fixated on your lips which was plush and parted slightly — so innocent yet so tantalizing and inviting. 

Desires begin to muddle his mind, self-control cascading as he transformed himself to his human form. The space he occupied sinking instantly with his weight, causing you to stir in your sleep. Alarmed, Jake immediately hovered over you, his hand gently covering your eyes as he whispered words laced with enchantments in your ears, “it’s all just a dream love.”

He slowly slid his hand down your face, thumbs caressing your cheek softly as he watched how your brows furrow as your instinct and will to wake up warred with his enchantments. Jake leaned down, planting soft kisses on your neck, “go back to sleep.”

Finally you eased up, gradually laying limp in his embrace. Jake smiled softly at the sight, that was close. He should have pulled away then but as if there was a magnetic pull, Jake could not tear himself from you nor did he want to. As if his senses were on overdrive, he could feel everything amplified. The way your body was perfectly dwarfed under his larger frame was evoking something primal and protective within him. The warmth emanating from your body was warming his own, enveloping him, making his skin tingle in anticipation. The scent of your hair and the lingering fragrance of your soap — a mélange of florals and greens — enticing him, intoxicating him to draw closer.  

His fingers begin to trail down, tracing patterns along your jaw, down your neck, to your collarbones. Your skin was soft and smooth and he marvelled at the sensation of it all against his fingertips. Every touch sent jolts of electricity through his body, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

Eventually his eyes returned back to your lips — these damned lips, he thought as the pad of his thumb brush softly over your lower lip, watching the soft flesh softening and bending under the subtle pressure of his fingertips before springing back to its plush and supple form, plunging his mind to treacherous depths where he envisions that it was his lips doing the undoing, mouth devouring yours, tasting the sweetness that he knew could be savoured on his tongue.

That was when something snapped and the next thing he knew, he had lowered his mouth to yours, gently pressing his lips against yours, intoxicated by the softness of your lips and the warmth which was enveloping him whole.

That should have been it. He should have pulled away then. After all, he just wanted a taste. But the more tasted, the more he craved and soon he found himself claiming your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. As your lips parted under his insistence, his tongue plunged deep inside your mouth, as if seeking to devour you whole. You tasted like honey and sin and Jake just couldn’t get enough, yearning for more.

Desperate for more contact, his hand was already gripping your clothes, tugging it down, resulting in a slight tear – the sound of which knocked him back to his senses. He pulled away, breathing ragged, startled by the state he had reduced you to. Your hair was slightly disheveled, lips swollen, and shirt hung loosely off one shoulder, exposing a bruise that was blooming on your collarbone – physical manifestations of the intensity of his desires. Guilt seized him as he realised the extent of his actions and almost immediately, he backed away from you, recognising the depths of depravity he was capable of reaching. With self-control hanging by a thread, he knew he would lose all forms of control if he stayed any longer so with a heavy heart and mind still reeling from conflicting emotions, Jake teleported himself back to his realm.

You jolted awake not long after, your heart pounding in your chest as you sat up in alarm. It must have been another nightmare, you thought, trying to shake off the lingering sensations of paralysis that still clung to your body. With a dismissive shake of your head, you laid back down, your lips feeling strangely sore and dry. As you licked your lips, your eyes flickered open, tasting something metallic on your tongue. Curious, you brought your fingers to your lips, probing the spot that throbbed. To your surprise, your fingers came away smeared with blood.

— iii.

Back in his realm, Jake wasted no time in seducing a couple of others, spending the rest of the night in a blur of ecstasy in a bid to distract and numb himself with pleasures. Perhaps, the temporary pause in his libertine pursuits had led such desires to fester dangerously, he thought.

Except when he woke up the next day, you still bore at the back of his mind. Almost as if scalded, he could still feel the warmth of your skin in his hand, the softness of your lips on his lips. Worse, he yearns for it – yearns to feel more.

Something was going wrong, he thought to himself as he lingered around the market just outside of the apartment where he had spent the night at. Eager and desperate for a distraction he wandered further, letting himself be lost in the hustle and bustle of the morning crowd, looking aimlessly at the selection of fruits and flowers being sold.

As he passed by one of the exits however, he caught a glimpse of an archway materializing at a desolated corner, dark and thorny vines crawling out from within as if calling him. He had passed by this corner of the street a billion times before but he swore he had never seen the archway.

He called upon one of the boys playing nearby, “Hey, is that like the entrance to a new market or something?”

The boy squinted to where he was pointing but only looked back at Jake weirdly, “what do you mean? What archway? It’s just the unsightly brick wall-“

“There,” Jake pointed again, adamant, “the alley-“

“Sir, you’re either trying to scare me or you need your eyes checked because I’m seeing nothing but a dead-end,” the boy grimaced, shaking his head as he rejoined his friends in the crowd.

“What an insolent bast-“ he stopped short, looking back at the alley, the vines getting longer and longer. He suddenly realised what it was and why no one was seeing it. The Abyss, he muttered to himself, recalling all the tales he was told during his schooling years about a portal to another dimension – a dimension that is akin to a black market, having absolutely anything one could ever desire especially the most forbidden and illicit of desires. Hence why entering the realm has been forbidden, especially to those like Jake who hold official positions and is considered amongst the most noble and elite of beings.

But curiosity got the best of him. After all, the Abyss cannot be sought for it seeks on its own instead. In fact, rumours has it that only those with dark desires could open up the portal and Jake was confident that he had none of that. After all, he has absolutely everything anyone covets: good looks; wealth; reputation and glory. If he wanted he could get promoted; get the hottest girl in town; get the most lavish manor in the realm; and so on. Feeling haughty, Jake pulled his cloak over his head, slipping past the crowd towards the archway, "let's see what you think you can offer me then."

To Jake's disappointment, nothing had materialised so far no matter how deep he ventured. It was just an misty alley with faint cacophony of noises like murmurs, bells, and chatters. Jake scoffed, see, he thought to himself, no dark desires.

When he turned around to go back however, his grin faltered as the alley now disappeared, replaced by a literal abyss.

“Everyone has dark desires young man.”

Jake jumped, startled. Behind him was an decrepit old man, face hardened with wrinkles, “you’re not the only Elite who has walked these paths,” he grinned lopsidedly, “I can assure you they all thought the same way you did. Head held high, face grimacing in contempt as if they had just walked into muck. But in the end, they were always the ones who went so far as to trade their powers and long life – always the one ended up becoming the most wicked. Exactly the ones tragedies are made about.”

Jake swallowed thickly. He can see shadows forming behind the man, making the outlines of a mass of people congregating as if he was an exhibit. The muffled sounds now growing louder – almost like a bedlam. “Nothing is materializing though,” Jake managed, trying to cover the fear that was brewing within.

“Young man,” the elderly scoffed, “you being able to open up the Abyss alone is a feat no ordinary goodie can do.”

Suddenly a gust of wind hit him, causing Jake to cover his face with his cloak. By the time he pulled his hand away, he was back in the market – right where the arch was – except this time, there was no arch. Like the boy from earlier said, it was a dead end. There was a sudden ringing in his ear, causing him to double down, before everything quietened almost too deafeningly.

Come again once you know what is it that your heart truly desires boy.

Jake spun around, alert. But the old man was nowhere to be found.

— iv.

Troubled and unsettled, Jake went back to the human realm to find you. You had, after all, became his own little solace – like a home to return to. Even if you couldn’t see, hear nor feel him — all he needed was you close by. 

Except just when he needed you the most, he couldn’t find you. You weren’t anywhere you were supposed to be nor anywhere you could be. This would not have alarmed him so had he not also been able to sense you.

Fuck, he panicked, wings almost set ablaze as he rushed from one place to another at impossible speed. There could only be one reason as to why he could not sense someone he had 'targeted': the target had been struck by others.

“No no no no no,” he muttered in disbelief, chest heaving in panic. Jake never lose control nor composure but right now, he was spiralling. Gone was his pride by the time he appeared by Sunoo’s doorstep, dishevelled and manic, spitting out his version of events.

“You weren’t supposed to go down the Abyss!” Sunoo chastised him the moment Jake told him about it, “you know just venturing there robs you of your power – albeit momentarily.”

“Is that what this is?” Jake paced back and forth, “must be right? that I can't sense her simply because of whatever curse the Abyss had put on me?” He grasped Sunoo by the shoulders, eyes wild with fear, “–not because she has been struck?”

“Jake–“ Sunoo croaked, caught off guard by Jake’s sudden outburst and outpour of emotions, “–just, please calm down first. Since everything seems fine to you, it’s possible your loss of detection is the momentary punishment for going down the Abyss but... we can’t also be sure that she has not been struck yet.”

Jake knows that very well. Except, he didn’t expect that the loss would have impacted him this greatly. It was true what they say then. That the Abyss is so wretched and cursed, just venturing down will rob you of something that is very valuable to you. He never considered it before, thinking that losing his ability momentarily would probably do him good – giving him the respite he so badly needed after working so hard. Little did he know, it struck him exactly where it hurts.

“When will it come back?”

“If it’s your first time down there, probably a night. But the more you go, the longer the effects last,” Sunoo sighed, “Just wait until tomor-“

“I can’t fucking wait until tomorrow,” Jake bellowed, infuriated, before sinking onto a nearby couch, head buried in his hands as he tried to calm himself down. Sunoo sighed. It was the first time he saw Jake so wrecked, it almost pained him. "The Royal Scotts Rooftop," Sunoo muttered quietly, guilt evident in his voice, "I followed the girl earlier, hoping to find you. When you weren't around, I thought maybe you've lost interest- that'd be good-" he paused, "but I guess, you've never lost it."

Jake rose up immediately, he wanted to berate Sunoo for not telling him sooner but at that time nothing could top his desire and urgency to find you so before Sunoo could even finish, Jake had taken off.

— v.

Despite the sea of people on the rooftop of the 5-Star hotel, he could immediately spot you.

His face immediately lit up, materializing behind you within seconds. “I’ve searched everywhere for you,” he sighed, gaze softening, before suddenly feeling a hand go through him towards you. He turned around, seeing that the hand belonged to a well-dressed man with ‘Jay’ on his name tag – a consultant from another company who had worked with you on a project a year ago, “the confettis,” Jay mumbled, inching unnecessarily close – at least by Jake’s standards – towards you to try and ruffle some from your hair.

“Oh thanks,” you reached over to your hair, trying to take them out yourself, before breaking into laughter over the fact that Jay had a lot of glitter in his, “dude – you’re worse-“

Within seconds Jake had already parsed Jay’s character and his history – finding that, despite the clash of characters, Jay would be good for you. He was very giving, affectionate, and selfless – something you, Jake thought, definitely deserve. Jay definitely is the best match out of all the potential matches so far, Jake thought to himself.

This should have been enough for him to rejoice at, for him to start reaching for the arrow in his quiver. After all, it’s rare to see you interact socially with men and have a good time with them — even rarer to find that particular man to be one of the best match he had come across for you. Sure, you two had really strong characters that would square the other at times but Jay would ultimately always be willing to break himself for you and give you the world. 

Had you been any other person, Jake would have already struck you both in seconds, latching you both together. But peculiarly, his mind was working on overdrive finding 1001 reasons not to instead. “Come to think about it,” Jake reasoned, feeling irked by the second, “this man is too affectionate and too selfless. You wouldn’t want someone like that right?” he materialised behind you, whispering in your ear as if you could hear him.

When you excused yourself to get some refreshments, Jake continued trailing behind you, ranting on and on as if trying to justify his actions. Or lack thereof, “I mean, eventually people like those will just bog you down,” he overtook you, stopping right in front of you, gesticulating wildly, “the kind that will make you stay out of guilt – make you second guess your own personality and character. I can see it happen y/n.”

He could see then that a tall guy near the podium was staring right at you — the interest and attraction evident in his eyes. “Heeseung-“ Jake read the name on his tag, his mind already parsing through him, seeing that Heeseung was one of the senior officers in the department just across of yours to whom you had always held high regard of. Him to you too. Again, this would have been a perfect match. Unlike Jay earlier, his personality and character would hardly ever square yours. He’d always relent to your choices and your ways, letting you call the shots. 

You caught a glimpse of Heeseung, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement and almost immediately Jake blocked your view, as if it even does anything, “not him either y/n,” he argued defensively, “he’s a hopeless romantic. You’d get sick of him in the long run.”

Just next to Heeseung is another guy who also by then kept throwing glances at you. Ni-Ki, an intern who was under your tutelage just a year ago but has since then moved on to other department. Jake grimaced as he parsed through the young lad’s memory, “definitely not him. Too young, still childish.”

Eventually, you turned away from the crowd, and looked out at the street below, your mind reeling from all the socialising you’ve had to do earlier. As your mind wandered, you find yourself becoming increasingly lost in your own thoughts, unaware of the intense gaze fixed upon you. “No one here is deserving of you y/n,” Jake murmured softly as he leaned sideways against the baluster, his eyes transfixed on your profile. 

As if spellbound, Jake studied your features as if you were a work of art. His eyes traced the delicate lines of your face, the curve of your cheek, the gentle slope of your nose, and the soft fullness of your lips. He inched closer, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, until he was so near that you could have felt his breath on your skin, had he been tangible.

And then, in a sudden twist, you turned your head abruptly in his direction, your eyes locking with his in direct precision almost as if you could sense his presence and see beyond the veil of invisibility that cloaked him. He watched, completely paralysed, as your brow twitched ever so subtly, hand raised close towards where his cheek were as if you could really perceive him. Jake’s breath hitched — enchanted — as he gently angled his face towards your palm, slowly resting his cheek against your hand, imagining the warmth of your touch, the softness of your skin. 

Lulled by the possibility, Jake's throat tightened, bringing his invisible hand up to yours, ghosting over it as if cupping it — yearning for the connection to be tangible, for you to see him, to feel the touch that he so desperately wanted to give.

He still have not fully understood the swirl of emotions and feelings he harboured for you but in that moment — when it felt like there was only you two in this world — he knew he wanted this. You for him, and him for you. 

He wanted to freeze time, to prolong this moment of connection that felt so right, but a voice broke through the intimate silence, shattering the fragile bubble he had created.

“You haven’t changed a bit-“

Jake felt a large hand pass through his, taking hold of yours, and his heart constricted with a pang of longing. The hand he had wanted to grasp, to hold, was now in the possession of another man — a tall and pale senior coworker who was supposed to still be on an overseas posting. Jake's breath hitched as he looked up and witnessed the smile on your face, a smile that he had never seen directed at anyone else. 

"Sunghoon?" your voice lit up with surprise and delight, and Jake felt a stab of jealousy at the warmth in your tone, "I thought you won’t be back for another two years!”

Jake stepped back, his invisible form fading into the shadows as he witnessed the reunion between you and Sunghoon. The hand he had longed to hold was now entwined with someone else's, and the smile he had wanted to claim for himself was shining for another. The warmth, familiarity and endearment between you and the man was so evident that it begun to stir something unfamiliar within Jake — a mix of protectiveness and longing that he couldn't quite name.

“Thought life here was much better so I sped the contract up,” Sunghoon shrugged haughtily.

“I bet it's because I wasn’t there,” you joked, trying to match his playful haughtiness. Usually Sunghoon would have replied with something equally as smug but somehow, something has changed and you could feel it in the way his eyes bore into yours and the way his hand had tightened over yours, lingering purposefully far too long for it to be casual. “Exactly,” he answered almost too genuinely you find yourself at a loss for words so you do what you do best — feign nonchalance, “oh bugger off,” you playfully yank your hand away, “What have America done to you!”

He grinned mischievously, “well, you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

You shook your head dismissively though the smile that has never left your lips and the way your eyes never broke his conveyed more than words could ever.

“Can I get a hug now? You never visited like you promised you would,” he extended his hands, brows wriggling playfully.

“I never made such promises but fine-“ you shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance, as you let him draw you nearer, let him engulf you in his large frame. You have hugged him before but this time, this too, felt different. “I’ve missed you y/n,” you feel him bend lower so he could bury his head in the crook of your neck and you feel his hand slide over your waist almost too intimately for it to just be a friendly hug. 

This time however you didn’t feign nonchalance, deflect nor playfully reject him. Instead you let yourself sink fully into the warmth of his embrace, your hands reaching up to hug him back as your head leaned against his chest, eyes shut as you murmured softly, “me too.”

Jake had never seen a more perfect pair. Sure you two had your differences but together, you guys complement each other seamlessly like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Your strengths balanced each other''s weaknesses, and your personalities would harmonize in a beautiful and enviable symphony of love and understanding.

Now would have been perfect, Jake found his rational self thinking, his hand automatically reaching for a golden arrow from his quiver. But instead of nocking the arrow and releasing it toward its intended target, he found himself hesitating, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

In a surprising twist, Jake turned the arrow on himself, driving it into his own chest, directly over his heart. Immediately, the arrow exploded into a shower of glittering dust, as was its nature. Although the arrow had no physical effect on beings like him, with the way his interest and attention on you has dangerously warped with a mix of attraction, desire, and lust — he might as well have been shot with one. 

How peculiar, he thought. He had always wondered how does such intense love which human shared with one another feel and yet now that he felt it rising from within, all he felt was bitterness rather than joy. 

The glittering dust that lingered in the air seemed to mock Jake, serving as a tangible reminder of the complex emotions swirling within him — emotions of which was increasingly blurring the lines between duty and desire. While usually symbolising some sort of celebration, the glittering particles which was still dancing around him now felt like a warning, a sign that his path was veering into uncharted and potentially dangerous territory.

He knew then, perhaps a little too late, that he wanted you. Wanted you for himself.

— vi.

Since then gone was the desire within him to match you with anyone. In fact, gone was his desire to match anyone at all as he becomes increasingly preoccupied with you — more specifically, his desires for you.

He had begun to take on human forms longer than usual, trying to get your attention, trying to slip himself into the fabric of your life. But the task, which usually had been easy for him, was difficult this time because apparently his face and charms weren’t enough.

Having observed you for a long time he knew that blatant attention and attraction would put you off so he made sure to lay and play each parts carefully and strategically, making it seem as if everything was coincidental.

“Hi, I believe this is yours?” You asked innocently when Jake opened his door. In your hand was a parcel which had his name and address but somehow wrongly delivered at your doorstep.

Finally, Jake thought to himself, his heart almost leaping out of his ribcage. He had been waiting impatiently the whole day for you after having paid someone to deliver the package wrongly at your doorstep.

Almost effortlessly he feigned surprise and confusion, “right, sorry about that, I’m new in this apartment block so maybe there's a mix-up," he shrugged, careful to not look overeager, "been waiting for this limited copy of 1984 to arrive, thank goodness it got wrongly delivered in the right hands otherwise it would probably get resold in ebay or something—"

“1984?” Your face lit up. Of course my dear, it’s one of your favourite books isn’t it, Jake answered in his mind. Oblivious to the glint in his eyes and the subtle twitch of his lips, you continued excitedly, “I rarely see anyone around me read 1984!”

“Now you do,” he said charmingly as he offered his hand, satisfied at the way you have eased up, “my name is Jake. Jake Sim. I’ve just moved.”

“Oh I’m y/n,” you introduced, “I live in the apartment right under yours.”

I know, he muttered to himself in his mind, “thank you for this y/n. I’ll see you around.”

You nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to the way his words seemingly had double meaning.

The next few weeks Jake busied him by encroaching your life ever so subtly and strategically. You bumped into him in the same aisle at the bookstore and ended up chatting in a nearby coffee about your favourite books which somehow is similar to his. You bumped into him at dawn just outside your apartment complex before you go on your run, he himself was warming up for his, and that ended up with you two going on a run together.

Eventually you two became closer than mere neighbours that he could somehow orchestrate to get himself inside your place, “sorry about that-“ he apologised, coming out of your shower with the robe draping loosely and casually over his shoulders, making a poor effort of covering his chiseled chest and abs. 

While Jake was indeed very good-looking, you’ve always thought something about his looks seems so ethereal. But now, shed of all the sleek suits and tidy hair, he looks humanely good-looking and you found yourself almost stuttering in surprise when he got out.

“You should report it to the Head Office tomorrow," you averted your eyes towards the kettle in your kitchen, "I mean it's an expensive penthouse, how can the hot water be broken so soon? must be shoddy construction job or lack of maintenance."

“Burning the midnight oil?” He asked, leisurely leaning against the counter as he dried his hair.

“Yeah,” you sighed, pouring it into the flask where you had already added some coffee grounds and sugar. You felt the weight of his stare and out of pure courtesy, offered him as well, “oh, would you like–" you hesitated, "maybe not right? It’s almost 12.”

“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he smiled, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that felt almost spellbinding. While Jake wanted nothing more than to bridge the physical gap in between you and him, and take your lips right there and then, he knew better than to submit to his desires this early. With others, it might have worked but with you he definitely had to take it slow. It pained him but like a prized conquest — he was willing to go through it.

Except regardless of how well-crafted his plans were, nothing could outpace what is really written. While he struggled to escalate the friendship he had built with you, Sunghoon had gotten closer and closer to you. 

When you did not come home one night, Jake re-assumed his non-human form, immediately locating you back in your office where you were burning the midnight oil with Sunghoon. 

Jake feels his anger simmering as he watched how Sunghoon latched onto you, following you wherever you go. He watched in frustration as Sunghoon hands hover close to you, as if being territorial; how his hands would even sometimes linger over yours more than necessary.

But it was the sight of you seemingly reciprocating him that was the most painful to bear: the way you let his hand lingered; the way you held his gaze instead of staring away; the way you never shifted as he drew nearer. 

The next thing he knew, Sunghoon had closed the distance between you and him, his lips gently pressing against yours, his hand snaking up your back to hold you ever closer. Jake was mortified. When you pulled away not long after, seeking a moment to catch your breath, Jake was sure then that you would have shoved Sunghoon off, perhaps even slap him for his boldness. But nothing of that sort happened for when Sunghoon re-attached his lips to yours, you didn’t resist, surrendering to the sensations he elicited, letting him devour you as you melt slowly into his embrace and touch.

Jake could feel the fury consuming him as he trudged up behind you, stabbing you with a lead-tipped arrow which would have sowed seeds of dislike for the other person but to his surprise, the arrow dissolved into dust the moment he stabbed it onto your back – telltale signs that the arrow will not work on you and nor Sunghoon.

That was when Jake knew that you were already written for Sunghoon and when that happens, nothing can usually be done because messengers are just really lower spiritual beings. That should have been Jake’s cue to give up but instead, it became a tipping point of when it all started going awry.

As his feelings festered in the worse of ways, he became more relentless and persistent in his pursuit of you. Except any small space he could have slithered himself ‘coincidentally’ into was becoming narrower as it becomes increasingly filled by Sunghoon. Soon it was Sunghoon who accompanied you running; Sunghoon who ate lunch with you; Sunghoon who accompanied you at bookstores; Sunghoon who sent you home; Sunghoon who stayed in your place until late.

There was absolutely no space for Jake anymore.

“Yes?” Sunghoon answered your apartment door one evening, not even bothering to conceal the distaste he felt within to see Jake at the door.

“Is y/n in?” Jake asked shamelessly.

Sunghoon shook his head, “she’s in the shower.”

There was an almost casual and domestic vibe to which Sunghoon was answering that question and Jake did not like it one bit. "There was a party at my workplace earlier," Jake passed on the box of cake and bouquet of flowers to him, "thought I'd share."

"Roses?" Sunghoon raised his brows, "She actually doesn't like roses. While she does like flowers, she actually doesn't like receiving them". Jake had to muster an insurmountable amount of energy not to let Sunghoon's words affect him even when he can clearly feel the venom laced in every words, "Oh and cake?" Sunghoon went on, "don't bother, she just like a spoonful or two, not the whole box."

You bastard, Jake muttered in his mind, wanting nothing more but to punch Sunghoon squarely in the face. More than that, he hated how Sunghoon knew the nuances of your likes and dislikes, making anything that Jake knew felt surface-level. If Jake knew your favourite colour, Sunghoon would probably know the exact shade of it; if Jake knew your favourite book, Sunghoon could probably cite your favourite quotes from it; if Jake knew you couldn't handle the cold, Sunghoon would probably know the precise timing of when to turn the heater on and off like an automatic thermostat. It was a sickening testament to the history and nature of your relationship with Sunghoon – of how far and deep it goes, the gap of which Jake could probably never bridge.

But Jake knows the subject of love well. With a mastery over the mechanics of love, he therefore knows exactly where the weakest links could be; where doubts and concerns can be sowed over time to topple the whole structure. In between you and Sunghoon, Jake knew your aloofness and romantically-inept nature can be a problem in the long-run with Sunghoon's possessive tendencies and predisposition towards jealousy. So Jake wanted to capitalize that.

"I mean, I just wanted to also thank her for the other night," Jake emphasized, noticing the way Sunghoon's jaw was already tensing, "when she let me shower at her place. It was so late but she was such an angel."

Jake could see the way in which the poison in his words worked it way through Sunghoon's system from the subtle ways in which Sunghoon's brows twitched and the way his jaw ticked though he tried to mask it with a diplomatic grin, "she has always been such an angel to the point of not sensing the ulterior motives in others," Sunghoon remarked with a hint of diplomatic sarcasm, "I'll make sure to pass the message. Next time it happens, let me know instead, I'll send a plumber right to your doorstep."

With that, the door closed and Jake's grin widened in triumph as he walked away, certain to have sowed instrumental doubts between you two. Except, as he lingered around the common area of your apartment floor, Sunghoon showed no signs of leaving. When 2 hours passed, he got even more agitated, impatience taking hold. It almost felt as if he was the one that has been toppled out of control. Jake had to do something though knocking at your door again is probably not the best idea.

So Jake transformed back to his non-human form – the ability of which was diminishing as days passed, the result of slacking in his duties and staying too long in his human form.

When Jake slipped inside your apartment, he could feel the dread rising, seeing the hallway too dimly-lit. “y/n,” he sighed in relief as he entered the living room and see you seated at the couch but soon the smile faltered as Sunghoon, who was beside you, leaned in and pressed his lips against yours – kissing you softly and tenderly. It was all cute and lighthearted – something Jake would have rejoiced seeing had it been any other person. But this was not just any other person. It was you. His you.

His hand gradually balled into a fist as he watched Sunghoon curled his hand over your nape, seizing you in place as he leaned in further to deepen the kiss. As the moment lingered, there was a palpable shift in the air – the sizzling tension of which was only mirrored in the way the kiss was escalating beyond it ever has with Sunghoon’s passion and desire growing more intense by the second as if he had been struck by countless of golden arrows.

Jake’s gaze hardened and as if possessed, he took out countless of lead-tipped arrows, stabbing it onto Sunghoon’s back in a desperate effort to stop him – only for each arrow to dissolve into black dusts – leaving Jake with no choice but to watch the horror unfold before him.

“Stop,” Jake croaked, hoping that you would pull away, that you would resist. But you didn’t. Instead Sunghoon’s body surged forward with urgency, forcing you to lean back onto the couch, his lips still glued onto yours. His movements were almost territorial now as he caged you in, his figure dwarfing yours completely while his hands rove possessively down your waist and up your back, tracing every curve and contour of your form, causing shiver to run down your spine.

Breathless, you pulled away, eyes locked into each other, breathing ragged, hearts racing wildly — the air almost catching fire from the sizzling tension. Sunghoon’s gaze, usually soft and doe-like, had darkened with raw passion and desire. Without anymore pretense nor hesitation, he plunged back in, crushing his lips down upon yours with fierce hunger, leaving you reeling from the force of his kiss. 

In a clear display of dominance and possession, Sunghoon pressed himself firmly against you, his lips parting yours, tongue slithering in to delve deeper, devouring you whole. It was clear then that this wasn’t just a simple kiss anymore. Jake knew exactly where it was all heading. 

And yet Jake was powerless to stop it.

— vii.

Jake re-entered the Abyss easily now for this was his 4th time. The 2nd was when he converted almost all of his riches for human money just so he can buy his disguises and play pretend in the human world. After all, the designers he wear and the penthouse above yours cost a fortune. The 3rd was when he bought more energy so he can stay longer in his human form. 

By now, the Abyss was no longer just a hazy dark alley of market with only one or two sellers visible. As Jake begin to understand and embrace all the dark desires he harboured for you, the place was now teeming with sellers.

It was true what the old man had said then, that the Abyss only reveals itself and the fullness of its world when you acknowledge your dark desires. In fact, the sellers that he can see are those who sell anything related to love and hate – as if the Abyss perfectly curates what you can see according to what your heart desires.

Jake marched to the corner where potions are being sold, the lady materialising out of nowhere, slithering in and out of the colourful fumes like a serpent. He reached for a ‘love potion’ — a bubbling concoction in deep red, “I want this but the strongest one. Get me the strongest hate potion too.”

“Gladly,” the seller cackled when suddenly the old man from the other day appeared behind Jake, “a messenger of love buying a love potion – do you, yourself, not see the irony in that young boy?”

Jake glowered at the man.

The man continued, “if someone like you can’t change her feelings, what makes you think potions can?”

Jake balled his fist, “tell me what to do then,” he lurched at the man, crumpling his collar, “you said this place has everything I could want, tell me where I could go then- who I should find- what I should buy-"

“What you want,” the man smirked, his eyes a pool of darkness, “carries a hefty price beyond all the wealth you’ve amassed.”

“Anything-“ Jake pleaded, memories of earlier replaying in his mind like a broken record, “I want her.”

Suddenly with a snap of a finger, Jake found himself transported into what looked like an underground cistern. Everywhere he looked were stretches of gigantic columns, dimly illuminated by an eerie red glow. 

Jake almost jumped, startled, when he turned around to see the old man sneering, his face contorting oddly. "The Netherworld?" Jake asked almost spitefully, "you've brought me to the Netherworld?"

“Get off your high horse young man,” he brushed past Jake, “entering the Abyss was one thing but being able to follow me into the Netherworld is another. You remember all the cautionary tales don’t you? It takes a very corrupted heart for a being like you to break through the veil and enter here-“

Jake watched the man descend down the stairs, alarmed when he saw his shadows bearing horns. When his eyes snapped back up the old man had turned into someone younger and taller — more than 2 ft — with horns curving out of his head and robes that seemed to be made entirely of black smoke, “what? you didn’t think I was an Angel did you?”

Jake took a step back, “you must be out of your mind to think that I would want to work with you, a wretched Evil Spirit of some sort?”

“You say that as if you’re spitting venom and yet the desires you have are just as wretched,” the man cackled, the shadows behind him growing imposingly large, “face it, their fates are written to be intertwined, how else do you expect to win her then? Parade as human? For how long exactly? You know you cannot overstay in the human world.”

“I saw a spell for partial mortality earlier,” Jake reasoned, startled when the man suddenly reappeared behind him, his long bony fingers gripping Jake’s shoulders, immobilising him from any attempts to run away, “right, at the cost of what Jake? Half of your wings? Entertain me then, how does mortality make you any more attractive to her.”

Jake opened his mouth, ready to answer but found no argument left. He heard the demon scoffing, his slender fingers brushing over Jake’s large wings which had by then turned a weird shade of grey from its original pristine white — symbolising the gradual corruption that had took hold, “in fact all of your converted riches would soon be used up before you can even get an ounce of additional interest from her. She is after all written for him.”

The demon snapped his fingers, reflecting you and Sunghoon at your most intimate moments on a dark pool nearby. It was a picture he had often been fantasising as of late except, the man that was taking you right now wasn't him. Consumed in fury — the emotion of which seemed to have amplified now that he was in the Netherworld — Jake shot his arrow against the reflection, the ripples causing the images to disappear. 

“Ooo, calm down lover boy,” the demon cooed, feigning fear by backing away, “I didn’t just plunge you down the murkiest of depths just to taunt you”.

“Then what?” Jake’s chest heaved in anger.

The demon smirked, suddenly looming larger than life, “there is possibly another way for you-“

“Spit it.”

“Take her away,” the demon suggested almost too lightheartedly, “bring her to this other plane. It's the only way you can fortify against the string that connects them. Wipe her memory clean, keep her preoccupied and just like that, she is all yours."

“But humans shouldn’t live in our realm.”

“Shouldn’t not can’t,” the demon corrected, “though no sooner than you can make love to her will you have the guards on your doorstep, sentencing you to death for breaking laws and ethics.”

Jake’s brows furrowed, "you call that a solution?"

The demon floated towards him, stooping to Jake's height as if wanting to appear as an ally now, "of course not, I'm just laying out all the options for you because I want to make sure that the choices you make are informed."

Jake's brows furrowed, patience wearing thin, "stop with the dramatics. You're a fucking demon, you will never make a deal that would be of the best interest for the other party."

"Well, I can shelter you both in this domain," he gesticulated wildly, "it's the only place that the guards don't venture into." The demon's grin widened as he watched the muscles in Jake's face easing, "told you I am on your side."

Visions of you in Jake's arms swirled in his mind. If he brings you here then indeed nothing else could come in between. Not Sunghoon, not anyone. There would just be him for you and you for him. Jake exhaled sharply, “what’s the catch?”

“Good boy,” the demon cackled, a throne materialising behind him and he sunk on it, “just work for me.”

Jake watched him in confusion as he looked around, wondering what would he need an extra hand for. The demon continued, “your arrows,” he motioned and suddenly his golden arrows turned black, trail of black smoke emanating from it, “use it to sow hatred and chaos. One strike on someone and his darkest desires would amplify to the point of action.”

“You-“ Jake swallowed thickly, the fables of when he was young ringing deafeningly in his head. He had heard of so many tragedies during his lifetime but he didn’t know he’d end up as the very man people cautioned him against: the elites who held the most potential but eventually turning to the dark side. Jake always thought of himself as incorruptible and yet here he was in the Netherworld, about to give up everything just to strike deal with a demon.

As if sensing his hesitancy, the pool nearest to him begin to reflect an image of you and Sunghoon in yet another intimate moment and just like that, something within him snapped. "I'll do it," Jake muttered in a low, yet steady voice, eyes glinting, "but you have to make her mine. Completely mine.”

The shadows that emanated from the demon's robe grew thicker, consuming him, leaving only loud his loud cackes echoing deafeningly throughout the cistern, "deal."

— viii.

You felt Sunghoon's hand seized your wrist, his touch firm as he pulled you onto bed. His lips found yours, tangling it in a passionate kiss, as his body clambered over yours, his touch possessive as he held you captive in his embrace. It took a considerable effort to pull away and break free from his grip which was almost like talons, "Sunghoon, come on now, I'll be back after my run-" you wedged an arm in between, stopping him as he attempted to reclaim your lips again. He sighed, burying his head lazily in the crook of your neck, "do you have to?" he murmured. There was a hint of plead in his voice, "it's not even sunrise yet."

"Exactly," you chirped, "best time to run."

Sunghoon sighed again, his grip reluctantly loosening as he rose from the bed, his hand gently snaking over your back to help you up. He hated letting you go alone for all he wanted was to keep you safe and close, by his side. But if there was anyone who understood you best in the world, it would be him. He knew how much you cherished your independence and freedom and he respected that, willing to give you the space and the alone time that you need, "promise to stick to well-lit and well-trodden paths?" he murmured softly with a gaze that is so soft and tender while his thumbs drew circles on your back, his touch both soothing and protective.

"Always," you reassured him, voice steady and calm.

You got off the bed, Sunghoon trailing closely behind, his hand never leaving yours. Once you had put on your shoes, you tiptoed towards him, planting a kiss on his lips as a reassurance. You could feel him smile into the kiss, his hand gently cradling your nape to stop you from drawing back, wanting to make the moment last longer. "Seriously," you hit him playfully and he captured your hand in his, holding onto it until you slipped out the door, lingering up until the very last moments.

Little did you know that your little kiss — an act you'd rarely initiate — would be your goodbye and little did he know that his reluctance, which was oddly so strong and defied all logics that dawn, was almost like a premonition of the tragedy that would befell you both.

— ix.

When you arrived at the park where you usually run at, you remembered feeling the dread rising. The trail was too foggy, the lights flickering doing nothing but making the whole place looked like a copy of Silent Hill. But you were always so fearless for your good, so you quell your doubts and anxieties — putting them aside as baseless.

Except when you began running, the fog only grew heavier and as you approached a bend, a massive black dog appeared out of nowhere, barking wildly at you. Startled, you veered off the main trail, hoping to outpace the menacing creature. As you hurried, your foot caught on an exposed root, and you stumbled. Before you knew it, you were tumbling down a steep embankment, the world spinning around you in a dizzying blur. You tried to grab onto something, anything, but your descent was swift and uncontrollable. Finally your tumbling ceased, leaving you in a crumpled heap, your body throbbing in pain.

As you lay there, numb and in pain, blinking against the dizziness, you noticed something peculiar about your surroundings. The familiar pine forest had transformed into a grove of ancient trees, their massive trunks reaching high into the sky. The sky, starless and moonless, was bathed in an eerie shade of dark blue as if suspended at dawn.

A sense of unease washed over you as you realized something was amiss. The air was heavy and thick with an aura of mysticism with an eerie silence enveloping the forest. You knew instinctively that something was wrong, and the urge to flee began to stir within you. But as you tried to gather your bearings and rise to your feet, your head began to reel, and your eyelids grew heavier. It was as if an unseen force was lulling you into a deep slumber.

You fought against the encroaching darkness, but your efforts were in vain and the last thing you remembered before your world turned black was a huge mass of shadow drawing nearer, its presence filling you with dread.

— x.

You woke with a start, your heart pounding in your chest as the familiar nightmare plagued your sleep once again. The dream was always the same—a black mist enveloping you as you ran, the sense of something sinister chasing you through the darkness. You sat up, burying your face in your hands, when you feel the space on the bed beside you dip. You feel a strong hand wrapped around your waist, its body curled protectively around yours. You feel him bury his face at the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses against it to calm you down. You turned your head, "Jake..." you whispered softly, meeting his warm gaze.

"Nightmares again?" he asked, voice soft and concerned, "you know dreams are just the Devil's plaything."

"Yes but-" you struggled to find the words, your mind still clouded with the remnants of the nightmare. Before you could say more, Jake hauled you onto his lap, his lips claiming yours in a passionate kiss, stealing your breath and your thoughts away. It was a kiss that made you forget the nightmare, a kiss that always felt like the first, no matter how many times he had kissed you before.

His hands roved hungrily over your back, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume all rational thoughts. You kissed him back, surrendering to his passion, feeling him press forward, his lips parting yours with a gentle urgency as his head tilted to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking yours. The kiss consumed you, sweeping away the remnants of the nightmare and replacing it with a different kind of darkness—one that was intoxicating and exhilarating. You finally managed to catch your breath when he began trailing kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at certain spots, marking you as his own, claiming your skin with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you. You could feel his desire, his need, and it only fueled your own.

Jake could himself hardly believe the moment would ever come: of him being able to call you his, of him being able to hold you close, of you actually reciprocating his love and touch. But indeed, this had become his every day now. Yet still, he could never get enough of you, wanting to imprint every touch, every kiss, onto your skin. You could feel yourself about to fully lose yourself to the overwhelming intensity of his touch when your eyes drifted to the window behind the bed, where the grove of ancient trees stretched as far as the horizon.

"Those ancient trees outside—" you stammered, trying to fight the overwhelming sensations, "it kept on haunting me in my dreams. Like a memory—" your voice trailed off as you felt yourself thrown back against the mattress, Jake hovering over you, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You know you can't go out there," his voice was calm but there was an unmistakable warning in his voice, an edge to his tone that you hadn't heard before, "it's too dangerous."

You opened your mouth to protest, to ask why he always cautioned you against venturing into the forest, but any form of protest was muffled by another searing kiss. This kiss was different, hungrier, more primal, making you breathless and weak in the knees. "You're only safe with me y/n," he muttered in between kisses, "you're mine after all," his hips pressed against yours, his hands slipping under your shirt, making you shudder.

Jake had always been gentle towards you so the aggressive and almost primal way in which he was taking you right now was making you feel uncomfortable. The warning bells in your head rang faintly, but the sensations he elicited drowned them out. His kiss was like a drug, clouding your judgment and leaving you helpless to resist. As you felt him press you further into the mattress, your hands instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him close, your body responding to his touch with a will of his own. Just like the clothing that were shed one by one, any remnants of doubt and hesitation begin to disappear. The morning after, you would wake up as if this castle had always been your home, as if this bed had always been the one you slept on, as if Jake had always been the love of your life.

But sometimes, when the nightmare comes, striking the deepest fear in your heart, a flash of images would surge through your mind, offering a glimpse of another life. Through it all, one constant remained — a man. His face was unclear, his features blurred by the haze of dreams, but his presence loomed large, leaving you with a sense of longing and an ache in your heart that you couldn't quite explain. It was as if your soul recognized him, even if your conscious mind could not recall his name or his face. The man may not possess Jake's gentle and warm nature but he oddly felt so safe. Like home. In fact it weirdly occurred to you that even if you didn't know him, you felt like you'd run towards him on instinct if you were made to choose between him and Jake — as if he's a sanctuary.

But then you wake up, and your heart would pound from the terror of being chased while your heart ached from what felt like loss and longing. While the terror would eventually dissipate throughout the day, the ache lingered, as if a void had opened up within you. That's why you always surrendered to Jake eventually for only it was under his soothing words and tantalizing touch could you fill the void and the quiet of yearning.

Until the next nightmare strikes.

a/n: damn writing the goodbye with Sunghoon made me ache lol. Hope you like this one. I actually enjoyed writing this one even though it did took quite some time to finalise. No, there won't be a Part 2 because I suck at writing continuations lol. And yes, there will be a Part 4 for Dancing with the Devil but patience friends.

>>> | Masterlist |

[seastarblue]

new year, new me, new intro! as always this is subject to change as time goes on <3

all ids in alt ~ ✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚✶⋆.˚

Nice to meet you! You can call me Sea, or Seastar, or whatever really I don’t mind too much!

-> About Me:

She / Her

18

AroAce

Black and Muslim (feel free to ask about either ^^)

Somewhat neurodivergent but I don’t know what exactly …

My favorite colors are red, yellow, and blue! Classics.

Favorite food is really anything my mom makes 🙏

I try to be funny sometimes and idk if it works but I’m doing it anyways

I’d like to use more tone indicators (like /pos, /gen, etc) and to ID more images here ! sometimes I forget…

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Anyways. Onto…

-> what I do and post about:

I’m a writer (or I try to be), artist (again: try to be), and a professional Silly Lil Guy 😌. I’d like to be a pharmacist soon, I’m planning on going to college for that !

This is my Main Blog! Here I’ll post about:

My cool Moots and their charatcers

Updates on my writing, art, and life in general

Prompts! I wanna make prompts! And reblog cool ones too

Writing!

Art!

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I’ve got a pretty decent tagging system if I do say so myself ^^ so a quick guide to that here:

#sea speaks! - for when I have random stuff to say! not always about writing stuff though

#sea draws - self explanatory

#sea’s asks - self explanatory

#sea’s games - for now, its tag games I’ve participated in! hopefully I’ll start making my own games soon…

#sea’s moots - for things that my (Aweseomesauce) mutuals have done

#sea’s story 1-7 - posts relating to WIPs of mine! more on those… in a bit

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-> Important Links:

I have theee tag lists! This one is for writing , this one is for tag games, and this one is for art

Dm me if you want on any ^^

here’s my master list for prompts! hopefully I’ll fill it up soon ^^

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now onto…

-> My Original Works:

All art that’s done by me is under the tag #sea draws (I’m SO bad at tagging sometimes tho so expect some stragglers)

I participated in Writemas last year! here are all my entries for it

(literally half of this ain’t canon no more sobs)

more about my WIPs under the cut:

-> Ardenia WIPs:

(Psst, the following all come from one specific world, of my own creation! In order, it’d be the unnamed one, Interwoven, then TGS, then AGGTRG!)

Interwoven - lovingly tagged as #sea’s story 1 status: hiatus as I figure out more Plot — outlining Genre: Fantasy Themes: family, friendship, grief, loyalty, power, justice, belonging

[will fill out soon]

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A Golem’s Guide to Regaining Goodness - lovingly tagged as #sea’s story 2 status: brainstorming and shitposting Genre: Post Apocalyptic Fantasy Themes: Identity, belonging, morality, family

A former war golem, Arbor, and his young dragon companion Fiamma, travel the now war torn continent of Ardenia. Join them as they meet new people, explore the realm, and search for the answer to a single question: “What makes someone good?”

———

The Guiding Star - lovingly tagged as #sea’s story 3 status: brainstorming only because I don’t have enough Plot to shitpost Genre: Steampunk Pirate Fantasy Themes: (idk yet) Masterpost (Very Undone)

(will fill this out more later)

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[Title Pending.] - will be lovingly tagged as #sea’s story 4 Status: just an idea Genre: Fantasy (structured like a field guide) Themes: (idk yet)

A field guide of Ardenia, written a long time ago.

———

and now the WIP that isn’t a part of Ardenia:

[Title Also Pending] - will be lovingly tagged as #sea’s story 5

Either way, it’s a whump story surrounding a healer and a crownchain knight, both of which are trapped in a fighting ring against their will!

It’s set in the Crownchain universe, which was created by @whumpdreaming and I HIGHLY recommend their content ok peak whump right there!

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Now that the yapping’s outta the way… I’d like to take a moment and say…

to all my lovely lovely moots and followers: I love yall sm <3

stay funky, and have a wonderful day!

[heylittleriotact]

WIP Wednesday (except it’s not)

I was tagged by @emmg

I’m having weird writer’s block and am struggling reaaaally hard with concentrating on things for any length of time right now. I blame the state of the world. I dunno. I would like it to go away so I can go back to hyperfixating on sexualizing an old necromancer in horny peace.

I’m still getting over strep and can’t organize myself to tag people, so if you want to share your current WIP please do, and tag me! I want to see!!

Anyway, here’s my WIP of Chapter 4 of my Emmrook vampire AU. Amina wakes up the morning after dying, snuggled up cozily in bed with Emmrich, and feeling relatively fine - she’s just really fucking hungry.

The optimistic trill of a blackbird roused her, eyes snapping open at the sound that pulled her from her slumber: had Emmrich left the window open and some poor bird had found itself trapped in the room?

It sang again, effervescent and bright, greeting the dawn eagerly.

Amina craned her neck: the thick curtains were drawn shut, blocking out the dim sunlight that outlined them - there was no breeze or movement to indicate a window had been left open.

The blackbird’s song continued as though it was perched on the headboard of their bed.

Grunting sleepily, she let her head fall back to the pillow and snuggled back into Emmrich again, returning to the comfort of a dozy, early morning heap of warm limbs and messy hair.

He was still soundly asleep, snoring softly, deep breaths falling from his slightly open mouth. She hugged his arms to her and kissed the back of his hand as he slumbered, turning over thoughts of a terrible nightmare in her mind.

It had to have been a nightmare, right?

Her stomach rumbled in the dark, scraping its talons against the lining of her stomach beseechingly.

Ignoring it, she flipped over and draped her leg over Emmrich’s thigh, nuzzling into his neck and the warmth there. Inhaling deeply, she made a low noise in the back of her throat: he smelled divine. Had he always smelled this good? Of course he used expensive soaps and boasted an exquisite collection of fragrances and colognes: she’d never known Emmrich to smell anything but deliberately nice, but…

She swallowed the saliva that pooled in her mouth, and placed her nose against the side of his neck again, inhaling deeply.

Ohhhh…

Arousal flickered to life between her thighs, warming her further when his scent ripped through her again - olfactory decadence that coaxed a questioning whimper from her: aniseed and wet leather, something clean but complex not unlike petrichor but different - darker; and a salty, coppery tang that brought to mind echoes of vanilla and sex that made her mouth water even more.

He was hard, his cock pressing against her lower belly. Washe dreaming of her? Dreaming of fucking her passionately, uttering filthy words and vulgar poetry into her ears as he so often loved to do?

The blackbird’s morning song became a distant annoyance as the sound of blood rushing filled her ears instead, and she undulated gently against her beloved, revelling in the feeling of his familiar bare skin against hers.

She filled herself with his scent again, feeling somewhat ashamed of how utterly aroused she was by it. Not understanding why.

The urge to wake him was difficult to resist: they could make sweet gentle love, quiet and languid as they twined under the sheets, limbs curling around one another and spreading like graceful tendrils of ivy as it grew over stone, silent but for their shared breath and sleepy gasps of pleasure…

Her lips found smooth, heated skin and the hypnotizing pulse that dwelled there - she felt it pulsating against her tender kiss, and she moaned softly when her tongue flicked against him, her mouth filling with moisture again as she tasted that same enchanting aroma on her tongue.

She sat back on her knees for a moment to shift her hair over her shoulder before returning to his neck, fully intending to kiss her fiancé awake before treating him to a warm, cozy orgasm to start his day.

Her tongue darted past her lips to moisten them absent-mindedly and she flinched, letting out a small cry and lifting her hand reflexively to the sharp pain radiating from her mouth. She felt the familiar sensation of blood beading and dripping down her fingers, over the back of her hand, and heard it pattering against the bedspread.

Drip, drip, drip…

“Ow… fuck…”

She frowned into the darkness, and sucked her lower lip into her mouth, drawing away the blood oozing from the reasonably deep laceration that had appeared there.

“Darling?”

Emmrich had woken, and he stirred tiredly beside her, a large, comforting hand skimming up her thigh and her abdomen until it found her wrist. “Are you all right?”

“I… yes. I just… I think my lip is bleeding…”

She could make out the shift of his features in the dark; brow furrowing as he slid up onto an elbow and the candles on the bedside table blinked to life with a gesture.

“Let me see…” he muttered, voice still thick and raspy with sleep.

She leaned closer as he sat up, bathing her face in the dim orange candlelight so Emmrich could examine the hurt. “See?” She prompted, opening her mouth as his hands drew near so he could get a clear view of the injury.

Emmrich let out a yelp and yanked his hands away, the fear in his eyes piercing Amina’s soul deeper than any weapon ever could as he recoiled from her.

“What?!” She demanded, panic finding her. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer right away, but managed to collect himself enough to sit forward again, his thumb meeting her upper lip as slid it up over her teeth on one side of her mouth, then the other.

He swore softly - a reaction that did absolutely nothing to calm Amina.

“Emmrich!” She snapped.

“Er… hmm…” His eyes darted from side to side rapidly as he seemed to decide the best course of action. Then he grabbed her hand and maneuvered her index finger, guiding it towards her mouth.

The soft fleshy tip of it landed against the smooth, hard surface of her cuspid. Still looking baffled and uneasy, Emmrich slowly and carefully moved the finger down the tooth - far further than it would normally go - and then very delicately prodded the pad of her finger against the point, which felt razor sharp against Amina’s flesh - honed and deadly, and very unlike the shape that particular tooth had been for the entirety of her life until this point.

She let out a clipped scream and brought her other hand up to her mouth, feeling the other tooth - it was similarly distorted under her touch, bizarrely long and just as pointed as the other.

No, no, no… last night was a dream. A nightmare. And besides, my teeth were fine when I’d gone to sleep…

Bolting from the bed, Amina tore out of their room and down the hallway to the bathroom, her feet slapping through puddles of water that lingered. She hurtled into the still humid room and turned left to face the extravagant vanity built into the wall on that side of the room, and screamed again: a blood curdling shriek that reverberated off the walls.

Emmrich appeared at the threshold, sliding into the bathroom, redirecting his momentum with a hand on the doorframe and embracing her as she stared into the large mirror, mouth agape, confused tears flooding her eyes.

“I - I don’t… I d-don’t—” She raised a shaking hand and waved at herself in the mirror. Her face crumpled in anguish and she looked to Emmrich pleadingly with her eerie eyes and fanged mouth. “Emmrich, wh-why can’t I see myself in the m-mirror?”

He did a double take as he glanced from her to the looking glass, then back again, evidently seeing the same thing as she: only himself, naked and at an utter loss for words.

Amina sank to her knees, suddenly aware of the cold that was rapidly stealing back into her bones. Hugging herself as she cried, rocking back and forth, she tried desperately to make sense of what was happening to her: dead was one thing, but fangs where her teeth used to be, and the unexpected departure of her own reflection was too much. She could only bear so much…

Perhaps it was for the best that she couldn’t see herself - she surely looked like a monster if her teeth were as long and sharp as they felt…

Emmrich had seen fit not to waste his breath trying to assure her it was all going to be all right. Instead, he pulled his dressing gown from a hook on the wall and draped it around her naked form, securing it in place before picking her up again.

He carried her back down the hall as she wept, silent and grim.

Their soft feather bed met her back when he placed her down, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, sitting beside her and looking into her eyes, her hand in his.

“I know that this is very frightening for you, darling,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now, but we’re going to suss this out together, yes? Now take a deep breath - you can do it.”

“Why the fuck would I need to breathe, Emmrich? I’m dead!”

The sentiment was delivered with the same air of desperate and indignant mortification that ruled her currently. Her world was one of sheer confusion, and the inability to comprehend.

“There’s no need for such language, darling!” Emmrich blustered, looking affronted. “I’m only trying to help!”

“How can you help?!” She bleated. “You don’t even know what’s happening to me! Fangs, Emmrich - I have fangs!! I’m an aberration! I’m… I’m transforming into that… that thing!” She tried to sit up but Emmrich pushed her back down on the bed. She needed to run. Needed to get away from the Necropolis - away from everyone. She went to sit up again, only to be forcibly returned to the surface of the bed. “Emmrich, please!” Tears crashed down her face: why didn’t he understand?!

“Amina. Stop.”

He gripped her tightly by the upper arms, his elbows braced on either side of her to keep her from scarpering. His nose was inches from hers, and his eyes were intense and grave. The dark shadow of the dusting of morning stubble over his jaw added to his intensity and emphasized the serious set of his mouth as his eyes burned into hers.

“You need to calm yourself,” he instructed. “This is undeniably a mess, and I’m terrified as well, but we won’t get anywhere by panicking and falling apart, will we? You are not alone in this, dear. Now do as I say, and take a deep breath.”

Eyes shut tight, she obeyed - forcing a clattering breath into her hollow lungs, fighting against every instinct she had to flee. Her stomach protested its emptiness again, painfully contorting on itself.

“I’m so hungry, Emmrich,” she groused, sounding annoying and whiny to her own ears, but it couldn’t be ignored any longer: she was beginning to feel faint.

“Stay here - I will bring you something.”

The tone it was delivered in made it clear there would be no negotiating.

He vanished from her side and she sagged into the mattress.

[camcat1320]

TLOK is ATLA Book 4 Remixed

TLOK is chopped up and repackaged ATLA Book 4. Since Bryke are mediocre writers, they remixed elements of ATLA Book 4 without fully understanding the context of it all.

I believe Amon was supposed to be Ozai as a cult leader, mixed with a little bit of Unalaq. But Bryke decided to chop up Book 4 Ozai into multiple villains for the purpose of TLOK. Because of this, they had to give Amon and Unalaq different reasoning for their villainy which, in my opinion, are weak. I could go on but I want to keep this somewhat concise.

In "Original Airbenders", a few key words and ideas raised a red flag to me. As I have been studying cults, these words were eerily similar to cult practices. Take a look.

The Legend of Korra, B3: Original Airbenders

Korra: And what about Bumi? He was a naval commander. Maybe he has some ideas.

Tenzin: Bumi? He's my worst student!

Korra: Yeah, but he loves to organize people. If you ask him for help, you can trick him into taking more responsibility by making him think the whole thing was his idea.

Tenzin: [to Bumi] What would you do if you were in charge? Help me be like you.

Bumi: You've got to use military discipline to whip these troops into shape. The only way to deal with new recruits is to break them down, so you can build them back up. Rule with an iron fist. Show them who the master is.

How to Become a Cult Leader [Netflix]

"Make him feel important. Say his name a lot because everyone likes that. Even if you disagree, never tell someone they're wrong. Just ask questions, and always make them think that your idea is really their own."

"... A good cult leader knows the value of a sturdy education. It's an indoctrination process that's molding you into being the person the cult wants you to be."

"Cults crush people's individuality through visual appearance. If everyone has to wear the same kind of dress, if everyone has to shave their head or wear their hair the same way, it truly is just another way to turn off critical thinking and to make us not question anything."

Ozai as the Cult Leader, Amon

Needing to exact his revenge, Ozai would adopt an alias and a mask to regain control. He would bastardize spirituality to serve him and his goals. He would take advantage of the lost and disgruntled citizens of the Fire Nation, similar to Hitler's rise to power and cult of personality.

To make himself seem like he was chosen by the spirits, he would have learned to reverse engineer energy bending (I'll be calling this chi bending), gaining the ability to take people's bending away. The bending he takes from his devout followers would not just vanish, but he'd take it for himself, growing in power the more he takes. Though this is never disclosed to his followers.

He tells his followers that he is a nonbender and how bending has been at the root of every war in history. He says that the only way to bring peace to the world is with the extinction of all bending and he alone has the ability to bring forth this new world.

To test his followers devotion to him and his goals, he would make his followers shave their heads. He would say it is a way to humble and free themselves from earthly attachments. Now shaving the head is completely optional, however, there's a catch. To those who are reluctant, Amon would say, "then perhaps you're not serious about obtaining enlightenment." This is similar to threatening someone with excommunication. And when the followers are deep enough in the indoctrination, they would see no other choice but to do so. Then as more people shaved their heads, more would follow due to group thinking.

When Aang learns about this spiritual movement, he is intrigued as they are following many of the airbenders teachings. However, this is all a trap as Amon's plan is to take the Avatar's bending for himself. This then opens the door for the "Dark Avatar" (horrible name by the way Bryke) to rise to power.

Narrative and Lesson

The narrative of this arc is to show the dangers of cults. Cults are often religious in nature and portray themselves as doing good in the world. However, cults, particularly destructive cults, have insidious ulterior motives. These cults are focused around a single person, often a narcissist and/or egomaniac, looking to gain power and control. If one is not careful, anyone can fall victim to a cult, no matter their educational background or socioeconomic status.

[honey-crypt]

NEED ELLIOTT SUCKING FARMER COCK N OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

a/n: the winner of my 69 followers contest sjfhdsjf - i expended on it cuz it was openended but i hope you enjoy cuz i sure did LMAO.... MINORS DNI PLEASEEEEEE

word count: 2.7k

summary: elliott thinks you're a rude ass who must've been raised by wolves with your swearing and lack of manners while you think he's a pretenious, self-absorbed piece of shit who's the reincarnation of narcissus himself. yet, after a fight ensues at the luau, you find yourself trapped between a rock and a hard place, both of which being your accidental boner.

warnings: hatefucking, enemies to friends with benefits maybe??, degradation, dom/sub dynamics. top!farmer, bottom!elliott, dacryphilia, farmer is amab but no gendered langauge, mild cum eating, semi-public sex (fucking in elliott's cabin during the luau), too many instances of bee writing the word cock in this fic, use of slut/pretty boy/dumb bitch/fucktoy, hair pulling, mild pain kink, mild dumbification???, facefucking

★ shut your mouth - elliott x farmer ★

You found Elliott to be somewhat pretentious. He annoyed you with his eloquent and over the top words, as if he was transported to the present from Victorian England. You hated how he held himself, always so high and might like everyone around him was less than. Oh, and his hair! His fucking hair! It was stupidly shiny and perfect, you just found it utterly repulsive. No one needed to be that obsessed with their appearance.

At least, the feeling of resentment was mutual. Elliott despised your crude language and sailor-like tendency to swear every other sentence. He hated the way how impatient you were, such as the time he witnessed your never-ending foot tapping while you both were stuck in line at Pierre's. And your smile? Ugh, it was too bright and big, almost like a wolf's grin before its next kill

Nonetheless, the two of you made an effort to avoid one another in public, only exchanging pleasantries in front of other townies or the unfortunate physical run-ins that would result in a sneer from you and a scoff from him. Yet, there were days that neither of you could avoid the other and today happened to be one of those days.

The Luau wasn't one of your favorite festivals, the communal soup was usually a hit or miss but Linus always cooked a delicious brisket. On the day of the festival, you entered the beach around noon after feeding your farm animals and made a beeline to the slow-roasting brisket, "Linus!" you greeted Pelican Town's local wild man, "Good to see you with the rest of town!"

"Ah, (Y/N)," he greeted you with a soft smile while rotating the brisket, "It's nice to see you, as well. The brisket will be done in just a minute, you can have first taste."

"Did you know that you're my favorite person in whole wide world?" you laughed, earning a chuckle from Linus. His timing was extremely accurate, as a minute or so passed before Linus extinguished the fire below the brisket, "All ready for eatin', enjoy."

You give him a side hug and held out your plate, "Thanks again, Linus! You're the best," you thanked the nature lover and pulled a large chunk of brisket off the roasted chicken. You passed by the assembly of condiments and poured enough BBQ sauce to drown your brisket in a sea of tangy brown liquid. With a relieved sigh, you dug into your brisket like you've been starved for years, So fucking good... you thought to yourself, BBQ sauce splattering on your face and clothes.

"Were you truly raised by wolves, Farmer?"

Not good anymore. Elliott stood before you with his arms crossed and brow furrowed. You set your brisket back on your plate and took a fistful of napkins, haphazardly wiping the sauce of your face and clothes. The uptight writer let out a huff, "That seems to answer my question," to which you glared daggers with him, "Are we really gonna do this? At the Luau, pretty boy?" the nickname rolled off your tongue with venom.

"Are you going to continue to insult everyone with your lack of manners and dining etiquette?" retorted Elliott with a sneer. You leapt to your feet, hands slamming against the table. Some festival attendees turned their heads towards you at the sound, but shortly dismissed it and returned to their prior activities.

"You know, you're a real asshole," you growled quietly, not wanting to cause a scene in front of the whole town. Elliott let out a laugh, a cocky but classy laugh, "And you lack the fundamentals of being a decent individual with your cursing and attitude."

Your blood turned icy at his words and before you could stop yourself, you slapped Elliott across the face. The echo of the slap vibrated across the beach and alerted the other residents of Pelican Town. Mayor Lewis excused himself from the governor and approached the two of you, "Oh, what a careless mistake!" he exclaimed to the town, "You must be more careful with your hands, (Y/N), haha!" the rest of town relaxed and resumed their festival enjoying. Mayor Lewis eyed you and Elliott with exasperation, "If you're going to throw hands, do it somewhere else."

"Gladly," you grumbled, picking up your brisket and a soda before exiting the beach. From the beach, you only made it to the small bridge that connected it to the town when you felt someone grab your wrist, "Hey!" you yacked your wrist free, "What the fuck?"

"Do you not have any control over your emotions?" the wrist grabber, Elliott, questioned. You huffed once more and placed your meal down on the bridge, "You wanna be slapped again?" you wringed out your hands, "How about I punch your face? Won't be pretty anymore, which would be a shame because it's the only thing you got going for you."

Elliott opened his mouth to fire back, but promptly shut it. You cackled, "Aw, did I leave Mr. Ernest Hemingway speechless?" It's a relief to hear you silent for once.

"You truly think I'm pretty?" What the actual fuck? You blinked, it was your turn to be speechless. However, that speechlessness only lasted for a moment when you answered, "Everyone in this Yoba damn town thinks so. Are you trying to fish for something?"

"No, no, I just-" the writer ran his hands through his hair and tugged on its locks, "Yoba, you're insufferable, (Y/N)," a snort escaped your nose, "Do you get pleasure from driving me insane?" he asked.

"The only pleasure I get from you is when you zip your lips," you hummed, "You talk and talk and talk but do you ever listen? Do you ever make an effort to listen to when others speak? Or are you truly the high and might piece of shit you present yourself as?"

A frown graced Elliott's lips, a deviance from his usual scowl towards you, "Do you really believe that? Do you really think I'm a bad person, (Y/N)?" he almost looked... heartbroken.

"I mean," you lowered your fighter stance, "I mean, the times I've seen you call Gus 'bartender' instead of his name?"

"It's a small joke between me and him," explained the writer, "I did it the first time I visited the saloon and he found it funny so on occassion, we exchange 'bartender' and 'sir' with one another."

"Okay," you sighed, "How about the fact that you only seem to talk about yourself? You're self-absorbed!" you spat out self-absorbed like a sword to his heart. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, "Oh... I'm sorry..." he sniffled. Your eyes widened at the sight of his tears and oddly enough, so did your cock.

"Don't fucking cry," you shook your head. Yet, that didn't stop the tears, as they rolled down his sharp cheeks and jaw. Fuck, you winced at the sensation of your dick against your boxers and jeans, "I said," you grabbed him by the cheeks and yacked him towards your face, your body pressed against his "Don't fucking cry."

More tears flowed down from Elliott's watery emerald eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck! you unintentionally fucked yourself over, as your boner made contact with his pelvis. Elliott's face morphed to a shade of tomato red, "D- Do- Did you just get a b- boner?" he stammered.

"Motherfucker," you freed his face from your falcon-like grasp and instead grabbed him by the hand. You scouted the festival zone for any onlookers and swiftly dragged Elliott to his cabin, "Open it," you commanded him. Without word, he inserted his key and unlocked the door, he then followed you into the cabin.

"Ugh, what a mess," you scoffed, as you examined the cabin's musty and cobweb infested state. Elliott wiped away his tears and asked you, "Why are we in my cabin?"

"Because," you pointed to your boner, "You're gonna fix the mess you made," which earned a dumbstruck look from the writer. Fuck, not him looking like the idiot he is! you felt your cock twitch at the sight, "So you gonna take care of it? Or am I gonna tell how much of a stupid crybaby you are?"

"I-" Elliott blinked back any remaining tears, "You're into people crying... what's stopping me from telling everyone that?" you rolled your eyes, "Won't you be a creep for telling everyone my kink, huh? For such a fancy schmancy writer like you claim to be, you sure are one hell of a dumbass."

More tears ensued, but you noticed something surprising; Elliott had a boner, too. You twisted your lips into a taunting smile, "You're into degradation, huh?"

Elliott quickly concealed his boner, "Wh- What, no, no, no I-" you cut him off with a finger against his lips, "I bet you jerked off every time we ran into one another, hm?"

"No," he answered, clamping down on his bottom lip.

"I know I'm an asshole and a freak, but you, Elliott?" in one swift motion, you had him pinned against the wall and your lips near his ear, "You're a dirty slut."

Elliott let out a groan and you felt his cock poke against yours, "Good boy," you chuckled and released your hold on him, "Now, either we leave now and risk public humiliation or we take care of our issues."

Elliott remained silent and gestured to his bed. You plopped down on it and sat still. The writer approached you and placed a surprisingly gentle hand on your cheek, "If we're going to do this," his forehead almost touched yours with how close he was, "Can you at least pretend to like me?"

"That can be arranged," you replied, replacing your smirk with a small smile, "I'll even throw in some kisses for you, how does that sound?"

Elliott nodded, "That's fine," he lowered his eyes to your lips, timid.

"Oh my Yoba, do I have to do everything?" you groaned and smushed your lips against Elliott's, kissing him feverishly. His moaning was muffled by the kissing, as you practically shoved your tongue down his throat. You kissed him like fire and ice, the cold indifference combined with the hot passion of the act itself.

"I gotta give it to you," you broke the kiss, much to Elliott's disappointment, "You taste good," the writer's cheeks flushed a deeper red, "I do?"

"Don't make me repeat myself," you spat. Elliott nodded dumbly, hands hovering above your thighs. You rose from the bed and pointed to your pants, "Take them off for me, pretty boy. I'm sure a dumb bitch like you is at least capable of that."

Elliott gulped and shifted towards your pelvis, knees on the ground and hands shaking while he unbelted and pulled down your pants. He stared at your cock, confined by your striped boxers. Annoyed by his delay, you snatched a fist full of Elliott's hair and tugged on it hard, "You know that I'm impatient."

Elliott's tears resumed at the sensation of his precious hair being pulled on so roughly, but he had to admit that the pain was a bit of a turn on. He pulled down your boxers, not wanting to make you more upset, and your cock sprung free from its prison, whacking Elliott in the face. Elliott recentered his focus and gawked at the sight of your exposed dick, his mouth watering.

"Yoba, are you really that desperate for my cock?" you teased, giving Elliott's hair another tug, "You're practically drooling for it like a bitch in heat," you playfully smacked your dick against Elliott's lips, "Open up, slut."

He opened his mouth, tongue out and eyes glossed over like the obedient man he was, "Good boy," you blew him a kiss and stuffed your cock inside, making him gag. A moan rattled through your vocal chords, "Shit, you got a great mouth," you cooed, "And Yoba, it's just a fucking blessing to see you- the next Ernest Hemingway, Pelican Town's beloved writer- in your right place, on your knees with a mouth full of filthy cock."

Elliott moaned shamelessly against your cock, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull from the vibrations. Soon, he began to suck it, his head slowly bobbing back and forth, as Elliott allowed more tears to escape his eyes. He felt your dick harden in his mouth when he started crying and resumed sucking.

Despite your hatred towards him, Elliott didn't really hate you back. In all honesty, he had a bit of crush on you. Sure, your cursing and impatience was a turn off, but the way you did the smallest acts of kindness like get Jas's jump rope out of a tree and relocating a spider to the outside from the saloon? Yoba, your soft side melted his heart.

Yet, here he was, mouth packed to the brim with his crush's cock and his own yearning for a release of its own. As Elliott slurped and gagged, he unzipped his pants and pulled his bottoms down enough to access his dick. He wrapped his hand around it and started stroking it, desperate for satisfaction.

"I bet you didn't think this would happen, huh?" you chuckled between moans, "I bet you're the kinda guy who only fucks after a nice candlelight dinner and sprinkles rose petals on your bed," Elliott tried to speak up, but his mind was too intoxicated from the lust and sensation of sloppy dick to say anything, "No need for that with me, though. I just want you as my personal fucktoy."

Elliott abruptly moaned, cum squirting from his cock and spraying the floor in white. A bit of cum got on your shoes and you removed Elliott's mouth from your cock, "You got cum on my fucking shoes!" you hissed to Elliott, "Clean it up."

Elliott reached to wipe it off with his shirt when you stopped him and held up your shoe to him, "With your mouth," his cock twitched at the command. With quivering lips, the writer stuck out his tongue and lapped the cum off your shoe, "I- I'm sorry," he apologized, "I didn't mean to..."

"Oh, I know," you gave him a reassuring pat on the cheek, "But I can't get enough of how good of a listener you really are, you should do this more often.

Elliott pouted and you grinned, "We're not done yet, finish what you started," the writer nodded and continued giving you a blowjob. As he sucked, almost deepthroating you at this point, Elliott looked up at you with almost doe-like, innocent eyes. You covered your eyes with one hand and placed the other on the wall behind you to stabilize yourself, Don't be cute, stupid.

Your dick twitched in Elliott's mouth and your mind went blank, only the need to climax present. You grabbed the back of Elliott's head and thrusted into his mouth. Drool spilled from the writer's lips, as you fucked his face without care, his mind overwhelmed with thoughts, feelings, and sensations of you.

"Fuck!" you tried your best to remain quiet, as you shot your load down Elliott's throat. The writer let out a choked moan and swallowed your cum. Now flaccid, you removed your cock from his mouth and let out a satisfied sigh. Elliott collapsed on the ground and laid there, his face stained with tears and cum.

You dressed yourself and joined him on the floor, "That was actually fun," you stated, much to Elliott's surprise. You kissed him lightly on the lips, "You better clean yourself before you go back outside but," you wiped off some cum and tears from his face, "Maybe we can do this again."

Elliott raised his eyebrows and despite being fucked out of his mind, he couldn't help but ask you, "Again?" his heart fluttered at the possibility of a second... outing.

"Yeah," you paused, "Maybe you're not as bad as I thought you were," you left Elliott with those final words before exiting the cabin, leaving a semi-nude Elliott drooling alone.

[lemonhemlock]

this is me airing out my thoughts regarding daemon and rhaenyra bc there could have been potential for actually make their relationship interesting. so, obviously they are supposed to be the ultimate targ love story (even though everything is the exact opposite) and that's how most people swallow it but the writers could have used s2 to show that it was just them acting. rhaenyra and daemon could never have a healthy relationship (in any way in my opinion), rhaenyra yelling about how she can't trust him seemed like a good thing for me until ep8. we could have had them both struggling to go back to their behaviour in s1ep1, this dreamy lovey dovey thing. daemon struggling with a older rhaenyra who knows what a somewhat healthy relationship should look like (i don't think harwin was 100% healthy but it still stands). now, rhaenyra is in a abusive marriage and has kids that threaten her older ones, it would have been great to see that internal conflict. how her life now is in a way a twisted one of her former best friend and the women around her. using daemon x rhaenyra to show how despite being heir and her uncle apparently doing anything for her she is just a woman in westeros. how even if on the outside she portrays herself as this perfect girlboss revolutionary, she will always be a pawn trapped by the man she spent years fantasizing about. i don't like daemon but his theme of never being able to change and always reverting back to his old selfish ways could have been amazing in s2 if it was even a thought. tb has no drama (any hint of it is destroyed to save rhaenyra) but daemyra could have had some at least and it would have been enough (since nettles and daemon leaving rhaenyra won't be a thing). there a multiple reasons for them to have such a messed up dynamic but they aren't allowed. now daemon and rhaenyra are in the exact same spot with eachother, perfect, loyal (rhaenyra cheater but i doubt anything will happen from that, the writers will probs have daemon think it's how or something), pure and badass.

also rhaenyra mentioned how daemon left herr during her Stillbirth but ig that's totally cool for everyone involved.

I'll be honest, anon - I think one of the main problems is that the writers probably think they've done a stellar job portraying the >conflict< between Daemyra and don't really understand the criticism.

Because at the end I think the INTENTION was to show that Rhaenyra isn't completely trusting of Daemon after his stunts, so they're not 100% back to how they were - she has a line akin to "don't ever betray me again" and looks a little apprehensive but is putting on a show for the Harrenhal audience. So, their reasoning was probably that it was enough to portray appropriate "punishment" - a loss of trust.

But this "consequence" seems ridiculous in context, because the greens fall apart much more dramatically and are treated like unfeeling monsters over less egregious shit. So it ends up looking cowardly that they let Daemon get away with the proverbial slap on the wrist.

[littlegaybean1]

Another Life is actually driving me insane.

It's been FOUR DAYS since I watched it and every time I think about it (so like, every half an hour) I think of more things that make it such an incredible episode!!!

Firstly it's Buck in a coma. Obviously I'm going to love it. He's almost dead! He was dead, for three minutes and seventeen seconds at least. Therefore, naturally, this episode automatically became one of my favourites.

Then there's the tiny morsels of Buddie content. It's not prevalent here, which I actually like because it focuses on another relationship that I've also been waiting for for so long. However, in his approximately two minutes of screen time, Eddie does manage to give me just enough content for my ship obsessed mind to work with. I mean, come on. Responding with "Do more!" to "we'll do our best" is absolutely going to make me go slightly feral. He has about four lines and that's one of them. It could easily have been any of them, especially Bobby considering where the episode goes, but it was Eddie. No notes, chef's kiss.

Also the section with Christopher? MY HEART. He's already lost so much for someone so young, and Buck is basically family at this point. I'm also reminded of some parallels between Buck and Chris. They are very similar, but you don't really see it all that often. But if you compare young Buck to Christopher, you start to see quite a few connections. They're both unfailingly positive, but Buck's is more of a façade. They also have matching abandonment issues! In an earlier episode that I cannot recall the name of, Chris starts having nightmares and talks about how everyone leaves. Then, in this episode, Christopher is desperate to talk to Buck, to the point where they (probably illegally) sneak him into the room. And the thing that he is so desperate to say is "You have to come back". HELLO!? Did any of the writers ONCE consider that I am entitled to MONETARY COMPENSATION for all the EMOTIONAL PAIN they caused me. Ow!

I love mental construct Chimney and Hen. They're so chill with it, just like "I guess this is happening" and get on with it. They just accepted it, which honestly I think is somewhat accurate. They're definitely the most relaxed characters (with near death experiences of their loved ones notwithstanding).

Mental construct Bobby is the funniest thing, whilst also being somewhat emotionally devastating. He's off the rails. He's dead. He's a ghost. He's giving the deepest life advice ever. Buck's mind is honestly so weird and I love him for it.

Then there's the bit I hated (it was really clever and so good). Doug.

Oh my god. The reaction I had to seeing that evil creature. Honestly well done to the writers and the actor for making me immediately hate him so much after not seeing him for like four seasons. It was actually horrifying, the implications that if Daniel had lived, if their family had stayed together, Maddie would have had nowhere to run to. It's almost bittersweet, knowing that in another life the Buckley parents were caring and attentive, but with it came something so awful. I hope Doug Kendall is rotting in hell <3

And here's something I only noticed about a day after watching: the biggest negative impacts were on the people that Buck loves the most. Because this was all in his mind, designed to trap him there. Something that has been established is that Buck is, as I think Bobby(?) said, "the guy who wants to fix things". Buck could never be content somewhere that he was idle. In this life he isn't a firefighter, so he needs problems to occupy him. Therefore, the four people that he loves most are the ones that have the biggest problems.

First - Maddie.

Buck and Maddie's relationship is shown throughout the seasons, especially in Buck Begins and the build up to that. They have always been incredibly close, because they didn't have anyone else to rely on. So in the tempting, coma world, Maddie is still with Doug. She never escaped from her abusive marriage, and in this one she even has a child to add to the situation. Buck's first instinct as to what to do to get out of here is to find something to fix. The first thing he thinks of is Maddie and Doug.

Second - Eddie and Christopher.

Even though neither of them have actually said it yet (which is criminal) Buck and Eddie are very obviously best friends. Their relationship is incredibly strong, as is Buck's relationship with Christopher. He's almost like Buck's own child, or at least a nephew. I think most people can also see romantic chemistry between Buck and Eddie. Therefore, it makes a lot of sense to have something go terribly wrong in the coma world. A large part of Eddie's character is his love for Christopher, and how he's trying so hard to be the best father he can be whilst balancing his dangerous job and the problems that he inherited from his parents and his broken marriage. So in this mental world, they have been separated. Buck needs to fix Eddie and Christopher, because Eddie cannot be the Eddie that Buck loves without Chris, and Christopher cannot be the kid Buck loves without his father.

Third - Bobby.

Oh my gosh. Even though I knew that it was only in Buck's mind, it still hurt so much. Bobby died without Buck there. He died!!! Without Buck there to take care of, annoy him and generally love him and be loved by him, Bobby never built the bonds he did with the 118. You can see right from the start the very paternal relationship that Bobby has with Buck, which this episode only confirms. I wouldn't say that Buck lost his parents, because you can't really lose what you never had. He never had parents (I am ignoring their redemption arc because I disagree with it. Sue me.). Bobby lost his children, but he never stopped being a father. He became someone's father again with May and Harry, but before that he became Buck's father. It makes so much sense for him to die. Because in the coma world, Buck has parents. Parents who have always loved and cared for him. So in this reality, Buck would never have needed another father. Buck can still remember his relationship with Bobby, and would never be able to replicate it in the coma world. It would be a push factor, something taunting him - there's a man out there, whom you love like a parent, who never even knew you. So Bobby dies. He's nothing but a ghost, nothing physical that can drive Buck out of this paradise reality.

Philip and Margaret Buckley. WHEN I CATCH YOU PHILIP AND MARGARET BUCKLEY.

Buck considered staying. He considered staying in the coma world, knowing that he would die. He stayed for the chance of having loving parents. All Buck ever wanted was to be part of a family that loved him. In 'reality', the 118 became this family, because his biological family was too broken to count as such. But in the coma, it isn't. His parents are loving and free with their affection, he doesn't have to nearly get himself killed for it. He has the older brother that he never knew, and still has the strong bond with his sister.

And then, we finally got it. There are two things that I have been waiting so long for. One has, unfortunately, still not occurred. But finally, in this episode, they gave us the other!!!

He admitted it!

He confirmed it!

There's no taking it back now!

I am proud to be able to say, with full canon support, that Robert Wade Nash is the adoring father of Evan Buck Buckley.

I'VE WANTED THIS FOR SO LONGGGGG

It's been so obvious from the first goddamn episode. I thank you May Grant for finally getting Bobby to admit that Buck is his son. The familial dynamics in the show might be my favourites, with the entire main cast feeling like a family. However, the most obvious of these has always been Bobby and Buck's father-son relationship. It's beautiful really, how close they are and how Bobby is finally able to admit to everyone, including himself, how deep their relationship is.

There's so much more that I could say, but this has already been so long so I'm going to try and wrap it up with one last thing. My rambles always seem to get away from me lol.

I absolutely loved the conclusion. It being the construct of Bobby to tell Buck how to get out is consistent with the focus of the episode, and shows the regard that Buck has for Bobby. Even in a prison constructed by his own mind to hold him there, Buck still has Bobby to rely on. It's one of the most heartwarming moments in the episode.

And then there's the confrontation or, as I mentally called it, the final boss fight. Daniel. The price of leaving is the loss of his brother, because Daniel only lives in the minds of his family. But that's not who the true enemy is. The enemy was just using his image, a mask to hide behind. I cannot honestly say I was surprised when he was revealed, but it was such a powerful moment when Daniel turned into Buck. Because everything happening inside the coma is Buck. It's all in his mind; the pain, the torment, the loathing. Buck's worst enemy, time and time again, is himself. His self worth issues, his abandonment issues, his self doubt. The final enemy to overcome is the voice in the back of his head, given form and prominence in his comatose state. And it almost wins. But there, on the other side, is everyone who actually loves Buck. The real love, not the kind that his mind imagined. Bobby with his rosary, Christopher sneaking in, Maddie and Chimney, Eddie, Hen, even his parents. They're all there because they love him. Because nobody, nobody at all, can defeat the voice in their mind without help.

Also Buck pulling an axe from absolutely nowhere was just peak escaping. Like yes, go get out of this coma by smashing a window with an axe that you just have because you're a firefighter. You get An Axe.

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

Watching the fireworks and all I can think about is:

“But upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky” — LDR, Ride Monologue

A year ago, I was still in medschool. Already ill, but still studying 12 hours a day for my board exam while I was at my fiancée’s. It was the first NYE in years that I didn’t feel alone. I was with the woman I loved and her beautiful children and lovely family. It was the happiest winter I’ve had in a long, long time, despite all that was going on.

I wanted to be a doctor. A better one than those that had taken a year to diagnose what I already knew I had only to then tell me “there’s nothing more we can do for you.”

Now I stand before the debris of everything that I was. I barely recognise myself. I barely believe that I still exist.

A couple of years ago, I had started medschool, and I was doing well there, I was passionate and it was where I belonged. Spent days in the biochem lab or the dissecting hall and came home late to write my silly fanfiction. I’d even sometimes write them at medschool between lectures or on the train. I did my art, played instruments, sang, edited, filmed silly thirst traps and so on. Then I met my girlfriend and I was happy. It was the peak of my life, I’d thought.

And then, thanks to the negligence of my former doctor and genetics, the illnesses that I’d unknowingly had all my life, got so much worse and ultimately left me bedridden and with barely any quality of life. I had to quit medschool/request a break due to illness, which was approved.

I can’t stand for more than 5 minutes without threatening to pass out. Can’t sit for more than an hour and stay focused, lose my train of thought when I stand up. Need an hour in the morning before I can halfway safely get up, three before I can function. I need help washing my hair, doing chores and cooking and can’t really leave my house. My joints subluxate multiple times a day and I get awful nerve pain when in a flare. I can’t take a bath or shower without ending up on the floor as soon as I get out with a pulse of 150 bpm. It all makes me feel incredibly unattractive. I’m pale, my skin is dry and flaky, my eyes have dark circles, my lips are chapped, and I’m using a cane.

I feel ugly.

My writing has slowed down dramatically but it’s the only thing I can still do somewhat decently and I’m being evaluated for disability. My brain, that has been the only thing I could rely on all my life, is forsaking me. It’s demanding to be fed like it used to when it was still a sponge, but when I feed it, it gets too much. And so I’m perpetually bored and overwhelmed at the same time.

I wanted to be a doctor and a writer.

And even though I’m still aiming to try publishing, I’m not sure I have enough energy to do it. I was supposed to get married in 2025. Now I have to attend my best friend’s wedding on my own. And I know it’s my fault, because I got bitter and most of all, because I lost hope. And at the same time, it’s not my fault.

The truth is, I don’t know how many more years I can live on 10% of what I used to be and I don’t want anyone to have to go through this with me. I’m not going to do anything stupid anytime soon. But I can’t do this forever if there is no treatment or hope for improvement on the horizon.

And as always when my life goes to shit, I got attached to another actress more than twice my age. And Patti is keeping me afloat right now. She’s so full of life that I can’t help but feel a little alive as well.

“But upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky” — LDR, Ride Monologue

Happy New Year.

[sambhavami]

Obligatory note: It's been a long time since I read the actual text...and this was originally written for me to hash out some character relationships stuff for my fictional works. :)

Now, welcome to my personal conspiracy-headcanon mashup. To understand Arjun/Bheem's reactions we need to understand Yudi first, right?

During the Dyuta Sabha, the Ps had a lot of things going on. To blame what happened entirely on Yudi's gambling would probably not be fair. As others here have pointed out, they were cornered both physically and politically (especially with Krishna very perfectly, for the Ks, locked in a deadly war).

Many people think (me included, up until a few months back) that Yudi's a weaker character, controlled entirely by Krishna, and that he sort of falls apart when Krishna isn't around. But, that isn't entirely true. Yudhishthir is remarkably smart. His only problem in this regard is that he associates the greatest with Krishna, the record-smashing, powerhouse of a politician, who dwarfs everyone else simply by being in the room.

Hence, the only times we get to see Yudi's strategies playing out independently are during Varnavat, and Dyuta Sabha (Vana Parva shows his standalone intelligence, and Udyoga Parva features his farsightedness).

During Varnavat, when they are leaving...this is a small detail, but Yudhishthir creates a proper ruckus before they leave. He's crying and sobbing, he's falling on everyone's feet- solidly weirding out at least half of the extended family elders...as one writer so eloquently put it: like 'a bride on her bidai'.

Point is, Yudi smells out that something's wrong with this sudden all-expenses-paid trip, even before Vidur gets to him with his hints and stuff. What Yudi is doing here is that he is acting weird (and loud) to the point that even a commoner seeing their chariots from afar would notice something's fishy.

Yudi's style is always to play the long con. And he values the common man. Rather, he knows the value of public support. This is something even Dury values, but his method of securing said support is just to throw money at them mostly.

Yudi always wants to make a more permanent impact in this department.

You remember how in Varnavat, Kunti leaves a nishada mother and her 5 sons to die in the fire? I was thinking, did Yudi not inherit even 1% of that steadfast (cruel?) determination? (I mean Krishna is Kunti's suyogya nephew in this regard!). Yudi sure didn't object to his mother's plan then.

Then, after Draupadi's swayamvar, Yudi is the one to recognize the seeds of discord b/w the brothers, and nips it in the bud by using Kunti's words. Once Krishna is in the picture, we see Yudi kinda sorta let up, he lets Krishna make some executive decisions regarding Indraprastha, and the rajasuya. Obviously, he trusts Krishna fully, and even Krishna gets the time to really recognize Yudi's subtle undercurrent-ish strategies.

So, it's not totally weird that the younglings trust him so much. The dice game might have activated Yudi's gambling issues exacerbated by his somewhat compulsive desire to be polite at all costs, but he wasn't rendered completely senseless.

On IF I saw one member theorizing about how Yudhishthir is phrasing sentences when the guard is sent to Draupadi at first. It's like he's almost sending a message to Draupadi.

Combining the above, with my own little theory here...Yudi realised pretty much immediately that he is walking into a trap, and so walk he did. He had faith that even if his brothers (and wife) were furious with him, they would still not react, and let Yudi play it out first.

The seeds of Kurukshetra were sown generations back. If we want to push it, we can push the origins of this conflict to the very first Deva-Asur war itself!

Even in their generation they had Krishna and Jarasandha, Drupada and Drona, Kauravas and Panchalas, the growing intra-Yadav complications, the Kaurava family matter, and so many other such conflicts. The world was already barrelling towards the mega-war at record speed. With Krishna and Drupada aligning themselves with the Ps, and Duryodhana rapidly filling the vacuum left by Jarasandha, Yudhishthira would also have guess that the war would happen in their lifetime. And in this uber-polarized situation, situated right between Krishna and Duryodhana, Yudhishthira would definitely end up in the middle of all of it.

When Yudi found the war to be inevitable, he gave up trying to really stop it and instead focused on how they could come out of this smelling like roses. In case of war, Yudi was never getting Dury's loyal vassal kingdoms. Obviously! And Krishna had antagonized more that half of the subcontinent while fighting Jarasandha (none of whom would fight on the side of Krishna's friends!), so Yudi wasn't getting them either! Then, the only remaining option was to somehow drag the sort-of neutral kingdoms into this mess.

The neutral kingdoms all had remained neutral for a reason. These people never really got involved in anything. The only thing that would drag them in, would have to be something outrageous. Something, that no conscientious person/kingdom could ignore. Something like a royal woman being assaulted mid-sabha. Something that would hit two birds...force the neutral kingdoms to choose a side, and irrevocably tip the public opinion in the Pandavas' favour.

If Yudi pushed Draupadi into this intentionally, then he was also ensuring that the Kaurava soldiers would fight against, but with a broken heart all that time, just like the elders of the family (and consequently will be about half as effective).

Now obviously, this is just a theory, and I'd be a lot more afraid of Yudi if this were indeed true. However, it is still fun to imagine, and I can't resist that!

But then, when Draupadi asks Yudi directly if what he did was legal or not, he stays silent. See, normally, Yudi LOVES a good debate. If he had genuinely thought he was right (or at least legally in the clear) in doing what he did, he would argue with Draupadi to the end of the world, but he doesn't!

Again, Draupadi is a legal genius herself, there's no doubt about that. So, when Draupadi is asking that question, she isn't actually asking the question. Draupadi is only further appalled when nobody acknowledges that she's right in saying that Yudi had no right to stake her. A law after all, is only a law if the wider society agrees that it is. In Drau's case, no one had the guts (except Vidur and Vikarna) to stand with her and support the law that she cited.

Maybe, Yudi had anticipated this would happen? That the Ks would let their animalistic side win over the logical one, and dig themselves a hole they can't really climb out of? But then again, I would be very scared of the man, then.

Coming to the brothers' loyalty. Obviously, they've (and Draupadi) lived with the intelligent Yudi for a long time. Long enough to know how he plays his game, and even if they don't like his approaches, they know that it will still help them achieve their final goal, which is to obtain and then stay on the throne of Hastinapura (the staying part they can't do without solid public support in the long run).

As for how much they value Draupadi, I think the brothers have proven themselves several times after that. Bheem a little louder, Arjun a little quieter, but they have.