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dottores · 1 year

Text

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, dottore's past includes webtoon mindset.

notes: okay y'all i know I gave u a choice over what u want to see int he next chapter but free choice is only an illusion & mother knows best & I took ur wants into consideration & decided against it bc I had a rlly great idea that can only be implemented in this chapter bc there would be no other opportunities for it later on. but im rlly happy w how some of these scenes came out so hopefully u guys are too.

RISE OF A KING, FALL OF A QUEEN

This again.

You wanted to frown as you found yourself in a large room akin to a chamber with a tall, dome-like ceiling and marble pillars that stretched the height of the room. You were sat in a chair, wooden and creaky, and you could feel the cold shackles wrapped around your ankles without even looking down to see them for yourself.

There were six figures sitting before you, each on large seats that reminded you of Chief Justice Neuvillette’s back in the Fontaine courthouse. Even the air was similar--damp and heavy, it made your skin crawl.

He was on trial, you put together quickly, but for what? And… where?

There wasn’t much in your line of sight besides the six people sitting in front of you. No, that’s not right. You could see a few more figures from the corner of your eye--they were armed with swords and polearms, tense and ready to act. They wore uniforms of some kind but you couldn’t make out what they were from, you didn’t recognize them.

“Three hundred years,” one of the men in the six seats spat out. “It’s been three hundred years since the sages have had to gather for a situation like this. This should have been handled before it escalated to this, Sayid. He no longer brings shame just on the Kshahrewar Darshan, now he brings it upon all of us. This has gone too far.”

Sages, Darshan, this was the Akademiya. These were the Great Sages. The people lining the wall were the Matra.

“Attempting the forbidden, interfering with natural evolution, delving beyond the universe--three sins that he has committed and somehow this is still a discussion,” another voice--a woman this time--added on.

You thought that he should have felt anxious, upset, or even offended by the accusations but you could feel nothing. No tug at your heart, no feeling of your stomach dropping, just a cold and empty void where there should have been emotions.

“It is a discussion because there’s not yet any proof of the sins having been committed,” a tight, male voice rebutted. “What say you, Zandik? Will you defend yourself or just sit there silently?”

Zandik. That was his name--only now you could remember, though it felt as if you had never even forgotten it.

Your lips moved as he responded, voice apathetic and dismissive: “There’s nothing to say… as you said, there is no proof of sins that I have to defend myself from.” His lips pulled up into a thin smile as he spoke, one that unnerved you and you couldn’t even see it. From the expressions on some of the people sitting in front of you, they were just as unnerved as you were.

“He doesn’t even care, Sayid,” the first man hissed. “He won’t even address the accusations laid against him.”

“Sins are not the issue at hand,” a new voice spoke up, voice low and heavy. “We are here to discuss what happened to my Dastur in the Apam Woods.”

Finally, a reaction from Zandik. He raised his chin in response to their words, a feigned attempt at confidence but you could feel the discomfort that began to stir within him--the unease. Somehow you knew that whatever he had been told he was called here for, this had not been it. They had caught him off guard.

“What is there to discuss about that?” Zandik asked. His voice sounded the same as it did before--indifferent, perfunctory--but you could feel the way his heart was beating just a fraction faster than it had been before, you could feel the way his shoulders had stiffened. “It was an unfortunate encounter with a group of Rishboland Tigers. Tragic and should have been avoidable but one of the other trainees had forgotten to set up incense to ward them off.”

“Yes,” one of the men agreed with him, “so the official report says.”

You felt restless as if you wanted to bolt from the room and hide… or he did, for the most part, but some of it was your own. You had attended enough court sessions at Fontaine’s court to know exactly what your soulmate was being accused of… and you had seen enough guilty defendants to know that the accusations were likely not far off from correct.

Did he…?

“Yes,” Zandik agreed slowly, “because that is what happened.”

“Is it?” The man who initially changed the topic questioned. “The coroner has released to us the official report of Dastur Sohreh’s death. There were multiple trauma wounds… lacerations and contusions on internal organs… hemorrhage… but the fatal injury was a wound on the throat--a fractured hyoid bone caused by strangulation. You were the last person seen with Dastur Sohreh, were you not, trainee?”

“Sharnama,” a woman’s voice warned but the man only held up his hand, silencing her, waiting for Zandik to respond.

Zandik did not respond. You could feel the way he was scrambling for an answer, an explanation. You could feel how his heart was racing, how his body was tense. You could feel his anxiety and the realization dawning on him and it all made you sick to your stomach.

What did you do? You wanted to scream at him. Why did you do it?

As if they could hear your questions, the man continued. “Dastur Sohreh reported to me several acts of insubordination while you were under her tutelage--three times in which you acted without her authorization and brought risks upon the investigation team and an encounter with a ruin hunter in which you insisted on bringing the machinery back to the Akademiya to be disassembled and reverse-engineered, which I personally had to reprimand you for and had you removed from the author list of the investigation’s research paper. When did that happen in regard to Dastur Sohreh’s death, trainee?”

“A week,” the words were frigid and biting as Zandik finally spoke up. “It happened a week before her death.”

“Yes,” he drawled, “that was it.”

“I had nothing to do with her death,” Zandik said.

You thought you had gotten good at being able to tell whether or not people were lying. You spent three days a week in the court audience watching trials but you were in your soulmate’s body and you could not tell whether he was lying or telling the truth about murdering someone. His heart was racing and there was a twitch in the corner of his lip--the telltale signs of a lie but they could just as easily be a result of the anxiety stemming from being accused of murder.

(You wondered, distantly, if you were just making excuses so you didn’t have to face the reality that had so suddenly been thrown at you. You had enough experience in court to differentiate the guilty from the innocent.)

“I suppose we have no way of proving that… so you are not at threat of imprisonment,” was his only response but Zandik was not at ease by those words, as if he knew exactly what was coming next. “But with reasonable suspicion of your involvement on top of the allegations regarding your research violating three sins provides grounds for expulsion… assuming it is a unanimous decision.”

It was a question cast to the other five seated in front of Zandik. You noted how Zandik seemed more anxious at the prospect of expulsion than he did at being accused of murder and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

“Sharnama,” the only woman amongst the six spoke again, “you mean to make us the first council of sages to expel a student in centuries. The last time-”

“He murdered my Dastur, Anisa,” Sharnama snapped in response.

“I did not-” Zandik’s voice rose, harsh in defense of himself but he was cut off sharply.

“Enough from you, you had your chance to defend yourself,” Sharnama said, tone laced with venom.

“Sharnama is harsh but… the trainee has had a reputation since his time as a student,” one of the other men agreed after a few moments of silence. “His methods and theories… his interest in Khaenri’ahn machinery… It makes people uncomfortable.”

“Discomfort is not grounds for expulsion, Isami, but regardless, we cannot just dismiss all of these allegations. Should any of them prove to be true and it comes out that we knew and did nothing about it…”

“It would tarnish the integrity of the Akademiya,” the woman, Anisa, agreed quietly. “Sayid, Khalil?”

“This should have been handled when the accusations of him infringing upon the laws and rules our predecessors set up first came about,” one of the men said and you could feel Zandik’s throat spasm as he swallowed, panic beginning to set in.

“... Sayid?” Anisa pressed after a few moments of silence.

And you could feel it. You could feel that small, minuscule bud of hope begin to bloom deep in Zandik’s chest as he shifted a wild gaze over to the sage called Sayid. You had a decent understanding of the structure of Sumeru’s Akademiya after having looked into it because of your suspicions about your soulmate, you supposed this man was the sage of whatever Darshan Zandik was a part of--Kshahrewar, you remembered one of the other men mentioning before.

Zandik trusted Sayid to defend him, you could feel it and you could feel the way his face fell and the way his stomach dropped when Sayid looked away from him, as good an answer as damning him aloud as Sharnama took his silence as agreement, waving his hand for the matra to take him.

You didn’t think Zandik even registered what had happened until rough hands were forcing him to his feet, starting to drag him from the room, and then, finally, the rage hit--bitter and deep, overwhelming.

“Over rumors and false allegations,” Zandik spat out, hatred dripping from every word. “You’ll expel me for that?”

He got no response besides the harsh words of one of the matra urging him along but he struggled against them with every step, even with fingers digging deep into his biceps, bruising his skin, he was undeterred.

“You sages can’t even fall in line with the very virtues you set out to preserve,” he seethed, “and the sins that you deem so treacherous are just an excuse to chain anyone whose convictions do not fit your standards because you fear that a change in our way of thinking will displace your power.”

You had never felt anything like this before. This feral fury that had your blood on fire and your brain melting of coherent thought--uncontrollable and unquenchable, a type of bloodlust that shook you to your core and scared you because you could feel yourself angry too and you weren’t sure if it were remnants of Zandik’s rage spilling to you or not and you hated how you were being so influenced by his emotions that you couldn’t tell what was his and what was yours anymore.

“You’re going to regret this,” Zandik shouted as the matra pulled him through the doors of the chamber. His words, the sages’ words, they all echoed in your head over and over again--all of the accusations, his reactions, and you wondered what it meant and how much of it was true and you wondered who he was not for the first time and certainly not the last. “You’re going to regret this!”

He didn’t even bother to try the tricks he attempted last time--searching for something to read, yelling, blinking, he knew none of it would work and he wasn’t the type of person to make the same mistake twice.

The room he was in--she was in--was large and enclosed with an overwhelmingly sweet and sickly flowery scent that made his stomach churn. He had always hated floral scents and this was beyond anything he had ever smelt before.

And there were too many people. There were too many goddamn people. They were packed in seats before where his soulmate was sitting, they were lined up around the room as if they were waiting to do something, there were so many that the line was even pushed out two double doors, flowing into the hall.

What was going on?

Dottore couldn’t tell. His soulmate was facing the crowd of people--there was something behind her, he could tell that much. He couldn’t see any flowers so he assumed that whatever that scent was, was coming from behind her.

There was a man standing next to her--an older one with a cold, unfriendly expression and thick build. He watched as a woman approached the older man, disgust curling in his gut at the snot-faced expression painting her face, wide teary eyes and trembling lips as she reached for the man’s hand. Dottore wanted to step away, draw back and leave before the woman could set her eyes on him but alas, he was not in control of his body--her body--again.

The more he thought about it, the more odd this was. The last time he had witnessed her past through dreams, her emotions had been loud and intense, deafening. It had him spiraling because he couldn’t understand what he was feeling and he couldn’t tell if he was feeling it or if it was her.

Now, it was empty. There was no joy, no anxiety, no fear or sadness; just a cool void, reminiscent of how the past week and a half of silence from her had felt. Dottore wondered if that was why Celestia was forcing him to sit through another sequence of dreams--punishment for trying to push her away.

Succeeding in pushing her away, he corrected silently, there was an odd pit in his stomach at the thought. He should be happy, he had been worried that not even a direct strike against her persistence would deter her but he had found success in the first attempt.

It was what he wanted. He no longer had to deal with the frequent tugs on the thread. He no longer had to deal with the fluctuating emotions. He no longer had to deal with the good mornings and goodnights and the incessant questions.

The past week had been the most peaceful and productive he’s had ever since that damned string appeared and yet somehow, he was not happy.

It was what he wanted, he repeated but a part of him felt as if he might be trying to convince himself of it.

Around him, people were talking. He could see their lips moving and he could hear the words leaving their lips but they were unintelligible and garbled, it sounded as if they were underwater and only speaking half a word at a time, combining them to create words that didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t read their lips, no matter how hard he tried, it just looked as if they were speaking a foreign language.

The woman who had been talking to the older man now turned to his soulmate. Instantly, dread was rocketing through him--he knew what was about to happen and there was simply nothing that he could do about it.

Thin arms wrapped around her, tighter than he thought it would be and he wondered, hatefully, if his soulmate was some agent of Celestia sent to make his life a living hell. Three times now, he was forced to experience something through her that made his skin crawl. First, he was tossed around through that winter storm because she made stupid decisions. Then he was slapped. And now, there was a woman clinging to him, sobbing and speaking words that he couldn’t even understand and all he could do was stand there and let it happen because that’s what she was doing.

It took far too long for another woman to come along and drag her off. Dottore was livid, if he looked to the side, he was sure he would see snot on his soulmate’s shoulder and he could still feel bony arms digging into her sides.

He wasn’t sure how long she stood there. It felt like an eternity and only a few seconds somehow at the same time. People were passing by her in slow motion but they were gone in an instant. Dottore was distinctly unsettled, it felt like someone was fucking with his head, forcing him to perceive things wrongly.

Eventually, his soulmate was approached by someone new--a younger man with dark hair and purple-red eyes. He ignored the older man to her side, everyone else had stopped at him first and then moved to her but he had beelined right to her.

Something didn’t sit right in his stomach about that.

Dottore braced himself as best as he could as the other man reached out to grab his soulmate but instead of pulling her into a hug, he only grabbed her forearms, leaning his head down to say something that Dottore couldn’t understand again.

He was undeterred by her lack of reaction, trying again and again and again. Dottore had half a mind to bash his head in and tell him to leave, fed up by this whole situation. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't seem to escape this. When he thought he finally succeeded, he was dragged right back in by Celestia and their fucked up games.

Then, at last, Dottore could hear again. His soulmate was snapped out of whatever daze she had been in and noise exploded around him: scraping of chairs against the ground, mindless chatter, a violin muted in the background, slow and mournful.

A funeral.

For who?

It had to be someone close to his soulmate from how they were all approaching her and suddenly, he was reminded of that night all of those years ago during the event where Pantalone was being officially promoted to Harbinger. Father, branded right on his forearm. He had yet to get a look at his soulmate through a reflection--he wondered if this was the funeral.

Most of the chatter was sympathetic, talking about the deceased and reminiscing old times… but not all of it was. He could hear whispers of men talking about what this could mean for the stability of the court, eyeing up the new opportunities that came with this death, some sounded excited rather than melancholic, like hyenas feasting on one of their own.

“There you are,” the young man in front of her said with a small smile that made Dottore frown. “Ignore all of them, they did the same thing when my grandfather died. Came to the funeral under the guise of mourning just so they could see if there was any instability for them to leech on. There wasn’t then and there isn’t now.”

“There isn’t?” his soulmate spoke for the first time--her voice was hoarse and empty, the only sort of emotion was a dull sense of doubt. “All they talk about is how I’m too weak to take over for my grandfather. They say a woman is unfit to be warden.”

“If they saw the way you could work your family’s-” he began loudly.

“Wriothesley,” the older man standing next to his soulmate said, a warning written all over his face.

“Sorry,” Wriothesley said, looking away.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” his soulmate said after a few moments of silence, voice quiet. “The instability is right in front of everyone’s faces. They can all see that they’re not here, Wrio.”

Wrio, Dottore thought to himself spitefully once he heard the nickname.

Wriothesley looked irritated at her words, glancing once at the older man again before speaking back up, “They didn’t show up at all? Your mother? Siblings? To your father’s funeral?”

There it was. Finally, a bit of emotion from her. She was hurt at his words, he could feel something pinching at his chest, a dark and unwelcome feeling but for some reason, it made him feel a bit more at ease after the past week of silence.

“They were busy,” she said quietly but Dottore could tell that she didn’t even believe the words herself. Neither did Wriothesley, if the expression on his face had anything to say about it. “They were, Wrio.”

Dottore wanted to roll his eyes once he heard the nickname again but instead, he distracted himself with what she had said. He thought back to the previous dreams he had of her past--being left behind by her mother and stepfather while they went to town, the argument with her mother and the slap… somehow, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had chosen not to go.

Wriothesley scoffed loudly, loud enough to draw the attention of some of the other attendees. “They’re despicable,” he spat out. “Especially that skeevy, rat-faced-”

“Come, Wriothesley,” a middle-aged man who looked just like the younger man said sharply, interrupting him before he could finish his sentence. “This is not the place for this topic. You can speak to your betrothed another time.”

Dottore blanched.

Betrothed?

Blood.

That was the first thing you noticed. The thick, nasty scent of iron was all around you--around him, whatever. It was disgusting, overwhelming. You wanted to throw up, you thought that if you were in your own body, you might’ve passed out but you were in his, Zandik’s, and he was totally unbothered by the smell.

Something was wrong with your eyes--that was the second thing you noticed. You had no peripheral vision, the only thing you could see was his hands resting on the lab table in front of you, fresh and dry blood staining his skin, dripping to the floor below.

He was angry, the third thing you noticed. You could feel the rage curling in his gut; his nails digging into the table, grinding against the metal. You couldn’t figure out what he was angry about and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know because you had a distinct feeling that it had something to do with the blood on his hands and the lab table.

Zandik finally moved, an awful scraping sound meeting your ears as his nails dragged against the metal when he pushed off the table. He paced up and down the length of the room, muttering to himself.

“Everything was right.”

“What went wrong?”

“-was supposed to work, don’t under-”

As he turned, you could see something--some sort of machine laying across the lab table that hadn’t been in your line of sight before. You wondered if these were ruin guards that he talked about so much. There was something pooling around it; from the distance you were at, you thought it might be oil but Zandik turned on his heel to move closer to it and a sinking feeling formed in your stomach when you realized that it was not oil, instead it was a massive puddle of blood surrounding the machine.

What the fuck? You thought to yourself as Zandik stood in front of the machine, taking one of its arms in his hand. The metal somehow felt cool and hot at the same time, uncomfortable to the touch. You wanted to let go of it, there was blood coating the metal and staining his hands even more, but Zandik’s grip was tight around it.

Why was a machine bleeding? You were sick at the thought, hoards of horrible possibilities running through your head but you didn’t get a chance to dwell on any of them.

Zandik sighed, annoyed, jerking away from the machine again to pace. His head shook back and forth in a rough manner that started to give you a headache, he did it over and over and over again and you wanted to scream at him to stop.

“This was supposed to work, Grand Sage,” he said, clicking his tongue sharply once, then twice, and then a third time. “This was supposed to work. I did everything right. Why aren’t you working?”

Is he talking to-

Zandik marched right back toward the machine, much to your displeasure. The longer he stared at the automaton, the more uncomfortable you felt. You could tell that it had been modified in several places, disassembled and put back together but it almost looked as if… he had put something inside it?

“Why aren’t you working, Grand Sage?” he repeated, humming to himself irritably as he tapped his fingers against the metal. “I even went out to fetch you a new core, you’ve always been so damn ungrateful, haven’t you? Everything I did for your Darshan and you still turned your back on me. Ungrateful, even when I’m trying to make you greater than man.”

-to the machine?

You wanted to wake up, you didn’t want to see whatever this dream was showing you. You wondered if it was some cruel joke the gods were playing on you by showing you this. Or maybe they were trying to help you, you considered. He had made his opinion on you clear and yet every day you were still tempted to reach out to him, maybe they were trying to help you move past him.

“Is this what you plan to do with yourself?” a low, unfamiliar voice spoke up suddenly from the opposite end of the room.

Zandik was startled, heart racing and head whipping to the side as he snapped his fingers together. Instantly, there was a loud whirring machine coming from behind him, metal scraping against metal--the sound of an automaton coming to life. His gaze focused on a figure stepping out from the shadows of the corner of the room, tall with graying hair and a mask that covered the entire right half of his face.

“Who are you?” Zandik demanded harshly and finally, you caught sight of him through the reflection of a metal cabinet. Red eyes stared back at you through a mask that covered three-quarters of his face and short silvery blue hair that had blood dripping from the tips of his curls. “Who are you?”

“So much potential wasting away in this poor excuse of a lab,” the man continued, undeterred by Zandik’s hostility. An eerie feeling swept over you--you weren’t sure if it was you or Zandik becoming unnerved by the man, maybe it was both of you. “Don’t you want something more?”

“What are you talking about?” Zandik asked sharply, a scalpel clutched tight in his fist--somehow, you knew that it was no match for the man standing before him and you had a feeling that he knew that too. “Did the Akademiya send you? Who are you?”

“I came after hearing rumors of an expelled student performing heretical acts… So far I’m unimpressed.”

The anger that spread through him was like wildfire, consuming all rationality and any other emotion he might’ve felt. In an instant, the automaton that had awakened behind him was moving, launching across the room at a pace that had you reeling, blades slashing outward but then at once, it stopped. A cold silence took over the room, Zandik’s brows furrowed and his lips turned down as the automaton came to a stop, shutting down right before his eyes.

“Interesting enhancements… but unchanged at its core, meant to be operated by those that created them, not a follower of the gods.”

“I am not a follower of the gods,” Zandik spat out violently, stepping forward before he paused as if reconsidering the man’s statement. “Meant to be operated… you?”

“Yes,” he responded, ignoring Zandik’s entire change of demeanor at his words. You thought you might feel even more unnerved now, at the excited feeling bubbling inside Zandik as he stared at the man, waiting for him to continue. “What are your goals, outcast?”

Zandik frowned. “That’s not my name-” he began but was interrupted.

“If I cared for your name, I would have learned it. If you prove yourself useful, you will be given a new identity anyway,” he told Zandik. “Now answer me, outcast, what are your goals?”

Zandik didn’t answer for a moment, staring at him, but then he glanced back at the automaton still laying on the lab table, the pool of blood beneath it now larger. Luckily, his gaze didn’t linger on it for long.

“I’m going to enhance humans so that we can rival gods,” Zandik said, raising his chin to focus his eyes back on the man. “What do you mean? Prove yourself useful? To whom? You?”

“Lofty goals,” was all he received as a response. Zandik bristled. “How do you plan to do that? With what resources?”

Zandik opened his mouth to respond but no words left his lips. Finally, he pushed out, “I’m making progress just fine.”

“Yes,” the man said dryly, his visible eye drifting over to the mess behind Zandik. “I can see that…”

You didn’t think you liked where this was heading. Zandik was still suspicious but now he was intrigued, ready to listen to this man and whatever he had to say, and you had a feeling that this man would bring nothing good.

“I can provide you with resources,” he offered. “Funding, rare materials… new test subjects. All of the finest and as much as you need.”

“What do you want in return?” Zandik asked.

“There is a war coming,” he responded cryptically, “and you are going to help prepare us for it.”

“A war?” Zandik asked, baffled. “A war against who?”

But you knew.

You knew.

It was the same war that had the Hydro Archon’s paranoia escalating. The war that forced you to hide your soulmark and thread your entire life, that had you looked down on and whispered about because you had to tell people you had no soulmate. The war led by the same organization that had sent your stepfather to Fontaine as an infiltrator, the man who had killed your father and ruined your life.

At once, all of your nightmares and all of your worst fears came true.

“A war against the gods.”

Betrothed?

Dottore was appalled, reeling at the knowledge that was just forced onto him. The scene shifted, Dottore was now in a smaller room kneeling in front of a woman that he recognized from the first dream he had of his soulmate but he couldn’t even focus on the situation at hand.

Betrothed??

Since when had she been betrothed? Dottore thought that would have been one of things that she mentioned when she was rambling on about her days at night. He thought it might’ve been something that was at least hinted at when she couldn’t control what words were being sent to him.

“I have to leave, mother,” Dottore’s lips were moving as she spoke but quite frankly, he didn’t give a shit about whatever conversation she was having with her mother. The lack of emotions she was feeling left a vacuum that allowed his feelings to spiral and he was having trouble trying to keep control of them.

He couldn’t even tell what the emotions rattling him were. He thought that he had become better at pinpointing emotions ever since he was forced to deal with hers but this was foreign--green and ugly, beyond just anger or sadness, stronger than anything he’s felt in centuries.

“You do not have to leave, you’re choosing to.”

Dottore thought he might feel insulted--disrespected, even, being given a soulmate only for them to be married off to someone else. Another cruel joke played by the gods to spite him, a cruel joke played by her to spite him. He wondered if this was her getting back at him for never responding to those goodnight tugs she always used to do: talking to him, trying to get him to fall for her trap and respond, only for her to be with someone else.

“I do, I have to go. There’s something I have to do.”

He shouldn’t feel insulted, or disrespected. He shouldn’t care at all whether or not his soulmate was betrothed to someone else. He never planned on speaking to her. He never planned on meeting her. And he absolutely never planned to do anything about the bond forced on him by Celestia. In fact, this should make him feel better. It meant that there was less of a chance for her to reach out to him again if she was in a relationship with someone else.

It freed him of her. This should be a good thing for him, so why was he so angry?

“You won’t even tell me where you’re going,” her mother snapped. “Best not be to the north, there’s only so much more I can defend you from peoples’ suspicions. They’re starting to ask questions.”

But it was not a matter of whether or not he should or shouldn’t care. It was the sheer audacity she had to keep reaching out to him when she was set to marry, or even has married someone else at this point. She was trying to play games with him and if there was one thing that Dottore couldn’t stand, it was someone trying to play games with him--be it the gods, other Harbingers, or some random girl that Celestia decided to tie him to.

“It doesn’t matter where-”

“Of course, it matters,” the mother said, fingers digging into his soulmate’s forearms. “What am I to tell Her Excellency when she asks about where you went off to? The last thing our family needs is the speculation that would come along with people thinking you went off to Snezhnaya.”

Finally, he felt something from her--something sharp and jagged tugging at her chest that drew him from his thoughts, an emotion he had become acquainted with through her intimately over the past few years: sadness, disappointment.

“Wow,” she said dryly, “that’s what you’re worried about. Suspicions against your family. Not whether or not I might be going somewhere dangerous.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” her mother said, livid. “Of course, I care about whether or not you’re going somewhere dangerous. I’m your mother.”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” his soulmate said after a moment, rising to her feet and pulling her arms from her mother’s grip. “You can tell the Hydro Archon I’ve left for Mondstadt.”

“Is that where you’re actually going?” her mother rose to her feet after her, taking a step forward, but his soulmate did not respond. Her mother’s face fell. “You’re going north, aren’t you?”

Dottore finally focused on the situation at hand. North? But the only thing north of Fontaine was-

“Aren’t you?” her mother demanded. “You’re going to Snezhnaya? Why are you going there? To find him?”

Him. She must be referring to Dottore. But why would his soulmate come looking for him if she had…?

“I didn’t say that,” his soulmate shook her head, looking away out toward the window. It was a dreary day, dark clouds hanging low and rain sprinkling down to the streets below. “I told you to tell the Hydro Archon I’m going to Mondstadt.”

“Why are you going there? Why? Answer me,” her mother’s voice rose, eyes tearing up as she stepped closer to his soulmate. She stepped back, freezing her mother in place.

“Have you ever communicated with your soulmate through thoughts? The words that show up on your forearm?” she finally asked, tone harsh and accusing, a sudden change of subject.

Dottore paused, trying to put together what this might be about now. This was another reason why he hated these damn dreams, he never had any context behind what was happening and Dottore hated not knowing things.

“What sort of question is that?” her mother hissed, taken aback. “Of course-”

Her mother cut herself off suddenly, brows furrowing and lips twisting into a deep frown. Dottore could feel his soulmate swallow thickly, watching the reaction to her question. She had been expecting this and he wasn’t sure if it was dread or satisfaction pooling in her stomach--maybe both.

“Have you ever thought about why you don’t communicate through it? Have you ever tried and he just doesn’t respond? Do you try flicking your thread? Does he flick it back?” his soulmate let loose a barrage of questions and a creeping suspicion began to arise, wondering if she was implying what he thought she was.

“What are you trying to say?” her mother shook her head, stepping away. “Enough.”

“I’m not trying to say anything,” his soulmate responded, turning on her heel to leave the room. “But maybe you should think about it.”

She didn’t say anything else as she left the room and finally, Dottore could think.

She was accusing her stepfather of faking the bond with her mother, Dottore realized. But how would he do that? He knew people were capable of faking bonds through old magics but as far as he was aware that type of magic was all but lost… Dottore’s mind was suddenly racing, remembering all of the things he had forgotten in the last dream he had of her past: what he had figured out about the spy in the upper ranks of the Fatui and they had a spy in Fontaine, one of Arlecchino’s spiders and Arlecchino was capable of the old magic, and his soulmate was coming north to Snezhnaya so obviously she must have reason to believe that it had something to do with the Fatui, could it be-

Dottore felt a headache coming on.

He had a feeling that this was going to be very, very bad.

You woke up with a sharp, shaky breath. Your hand flew to your chest as you sat up straight, reeling from what you had just experienced. Blood, anger, betrayal, hope--what could you remember? What could you remember?

You scrambled to the small table at your bedside immediately, grabbing your notebook and panicking to find the pen that had fallen to the floor. You dropped to your hands and knees, fumbling around in the dark until you found it beneath your bed. You didn’t even bother rising to your feet again as you made yourself comfortable on the floor so you could start jotting down everything you remembered.

A cold, empty room. Six people. Exile? Sins and virtues. Lots of blood. An automaton. Uncontrollable, sickening rage. An unfamiliar figure. War.

War.

But what was the context? Your head was pounding as you tried to remember, you wondered if Celestia was warning you against trying to push too hard for information you’re not meant to remember yet. You didn’t care. You had to know.

War. The rebellion stirring in the north. But what about it? What was the damn context?

You glanced down at your forearm, frustration pricking at you as the window above you rattled against the Snezhnayan winter storm. You could feel the freezing air even from inside the warm room with the fireplace burning on the opposite wall--it was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, the cold storms at the estate that you thought were the end of the world paled in comparison to this.

You wanted to yell at him, demand to know who he was and what he had done, beg him for the answers that you should’ve received by now… but you remembered the words scrawled across your forearm, the cruel words that cut deeper than any of the nasty words that had been spat at you by people throughout your life.

He did not care about you, you reminded yourself, you have more self-respect than this. Do not reach out to him.

You sighed heavily, arm dropping to your side as you stared back up at the window, watching a branch scrape against the glass over and over and over again. You were only on the Snezhnayan border but already you were feeling anxious--you had half a mind to turn back but the only thing stopping you was the memory of your father, the lust for justice, vengeance. You couldn’t turn back, not until you had all of the information you needed, not until you were sure you could return to Fontaine and have your stepfather imprisoned in the Black Cells.

There was a heavy feeling in your heart as you pushed yourself back off the floor, putting the notebook away and taking a seat back on the thin mattress of the inn you were staying at, the wood of the bed frame creaking beneath you.

You had a distinct feeling that your journey to find proof against your stepfather would lead you to him as well.

He sat upright, eyes wild as he tried to figure out where he was. His heart was racing, anger was still flooding his blood, he breathed in and out deeply as he tried to regain control of himself. He was back in his lab--not dealing with any more of those god forsaken dreams. He wanted to spit out a string of vile curses up toward the gods but he refrained, trying to piece together what he could remember before the vague memories faded.

He flipped over the parchment he had been taking notes on before he had fallen asleep, rubbing the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed his pen to the paper and noted down all of the hazy details.

Flowers. Wrio? Betrothed?? Mother. Leaving. Snezhnaya.

Dottore exhaled, gaze zeroing in on the third word of his list--betrothed. He glanced down at the thread connected to his thumb, inhaling deeply as an unfamiliar emotion began to churn inside of him. Before it could take hold, Dottore diverted his attention to the last two words.

Leaving. Snezhnaya.

What did that mean? What was the context? He couldn’t remember. Was she coming to Snezhnaya? Was she in Snezhnaya and leaving? Or did the two words not have any connection?

No, they had to be connected. It was something important, he knew that much at least, but what? The answer was on the tip of his tongue and again that temper of his began to thin, what was the answer? What was the goddamn answer? Why was she coming to Snezhnaya?

Should he ask?

The option rang damning through his head as he looked down at his forearm. She could be in danger if she came to Snezhnaya--the nation was becoming more and more antagonistic to outsiders, especially outsiders from Fontaine and Natlan and especially because of the masked hostile that was running through Fatui camps and slaughtering their underlings. No matter how much Pulcinella and Pantalone demanded that they take caution with outsiders, there was no telling what a heat of the moment reaction could lead to if there was a possible threat and Arlecchino had made clear that Fontaine was on the verge of becoming a threat to the Fatui.

As he contemplated his choices, Dottore suddenly paused, another realization hitting him suddenly: if he had dreamt of her past then…

Then she dreamed of his past.

Dottore waited, staring at his forearm--waiting for the questions, the disgust, the horror. It was inevitable, he knew it. Last time, he assumed they dreamed of similar time periods of their life. Hers was when she was young, five to twelve years old between both dreams, he assumed; and the word he received from her was cursed, which was directed at him from when he was a child up until he was chased from the village at ten. And if the time periods were similar… that left his Akademiya and post-Akademiya era up as options for what she could have dreamt about, and neither of those periods of his life were particularly pleasant.

He waited and he waited and he waited… but nothing showed up on his forearm, not a question nor an accusation, no emotion spread through him that he thought might’ve been hers--just emptiness, just like it had been for the past week and a half.

Dottore exhaled heavily, leaning back against his seat and staring up at the ceiling above him, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with this and how he was supposed to make sure she didn’t get herself killed traveling through Snezhnaya.

The week and a half of peace was over and he realized, quickly, that it had only been the calm before the storm.

rbs appreciated!

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #dottore x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you

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k-dokja · 1 year

Note

Kayden break x reader please🥹🙏🙏

I have no idea what’s going on in the webtoon because I haven’t read it in months. Please have whatever this is.

“God fucking damnit!”

Kayden knew this was inevitable. He knew the moment he opened up to you and let your smile shake his world, you’d break his heart. It was an outcome he expected from the beginning, but for a time, he believed everything would be okay. Because he was strong, nothing would happen to you.

Then everything happened.

He was there, kneeling on the floor. Your body is limp in his arms. Red of blood warmed his hands. There was too much, too much that was outside of you and not inside. Your eyes are open and empty. They gaze towards the sky and take in nothing above. He was too familiar with this stare, familiar enough that it made him sick in the stomach to see it from you.

“No, not now,” not ever. Not like this.

He can save you, somehow. He can—No, he should’ve prevented this from happening to begin with. He should’ve been stronger. Maybe then, he would’ve been able to do something to make the pain stop.

God, anything to make the pain stop.

“Hey, you’ve been quiet for a while.”

Kartein’s statement is nothing more than a mere mention of his current stupor, but it annoys Kayden to have his peace disturbed all the same. Kayden clicks his tongue and returns to staring out of the window. The two of them have traveled far from Jiwoo’s home to attend to the Frame businesses. However, he had not expected to end up in this city again.

To say it brings up a few bad memories is an understatement, but Kayden digresses. This is a problem of his alone, Kartein shouldn’t be privy to it and Jiwoo has enough to deal with at the moment. Besides, if Kayden couldn’t tackle this problem alone, he would never get over it.

Seeing Kayden’s lack of response, Kartein doesn’t press. He only comes up to the window and admires the view outside. At this late hour of the night, no soul except for the desperate dwells the streets. It is comforting, in a sense, for Kayden to look down on these from a distance. It puts a space between him and the memories he wants to forget.

“Beautiful city, isn’t it?” Kartein says. “If I remember correctly, you were first known around these areas…”

“Yeah.” Kayden replies conversationally.

“Back then, you weren’t running alone,” Kartein’s remark makes Kayden flinch, but he doesn’t notice it, “what was that girl you were with…?”

Kayden frowns, “It doesn’t matter. She’s not here anymore.”

He can feel Kartein’s stare on him. It’s perturbing and unwanted. He never talked about this to anyone and if his luck was willing, he will go down to his grave with this.

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry won’t bring her back. Kayden bites down on his tongue to prevent his bad mood from taking control of his better senses. “Yeah.” It was a problem of his own. No one else should stick their neck out to help him deal with it. You, of all people, should have never done that.

If you did, then you’d be here now, with him. The thought put a bitter taste in his mouth. Cursed city and all the troubles it brings him. And the worse of it might be the fact that even after he got stronger and made all those who inflicted this pain suffered tenfold, no matter he begged and pleaded back then, the pain never stopped hurting.

Not now, not ever.

#Kayden break #Kayden break x reader #eleceed #fics #eleceed x reader

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taeyongsvodka · 30 days

Text

Fins, Grins, and School Shenanigans

Scenario: Choi Beomgyu had always been a thorn in your side. His relentless teasing and bullying made every school day feel like a battle. But everything changed during a class trip to the lake.

Pairing: Beomgyu x female reader

Genre: fluff, crack

Warnings: harmless bickering between friends? Cannibalism if you think deeply

Word Count: 2500+

A/N: Inspired by that aussie mermaid show,, h2o smth and webtoon “diving into love”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Every school day starts with a familiar scene: you walk into the building, and there’s Choi Beomgyu, ready to unleash his daily dose of torment. You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but somehow, he always finds new ways to keep you on your toes.

When you first arrived at the school, your initial impression of Beomgyu was that he was the prettiest guy you've ever seen, even prettier than girls.

So when he approached you with a relaxed and friendly demeanour, you felt a sense of comfort ease and gratitude for the unexpected warmth and kindness he showed you.

You relax a little as the conversation flows easily. Beomgyu is funny and engaging, and you’re surprised by how quickly he makes you feel comfortable. He asks you about your interests and your favourite subjects and even cracks a few jokes that make you laugh. You’re glad to have made a friend so quickly, and Beomgyu goes out of his way to hang out with you for the next few days. You start to think maybe this school won’t be so bad after all.

…Until that one day when you brought your favourite meal of all time— the one and only sushi for lunch. You unpack your bento box filled with neatly arranged rolls and start eating, enjoying the quiet moment.

As you’re eating, Beomgyu walks up with his usual cheerful demeanour. “Heyo, what’s up—” He stops mid-sentence as his eyes drift down to your lunch. His smile freezes when he sees the sushi neatly packed in your bento box.

“Sushi, huh?” he says, his tone still light, but there’s an edge to it now.

You nod enthusiastically, oblivious to the sudden shift. “Yeah, I love sushi! It’s my favourite food.”

Beomgyu’s smile tightens, but he forces it to stay on his face. “That so? You must really like fish then.”

“Totally,” you reply, grinning. “I could eat it every day.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Beomgyu’s expression changes subtly—his smile fades, and something cold flickers in his eyes. He doesn’t say much after that. He quickly excuses himself, claiming he just remembered something he needs to do and walks away. You don’t think much of it, chalking it up to him being busy.

However, after that day, things start to change. Beomgyu becomes distant. He stops seeking you out during breaks, no longer invites you to sit with him, and even seems to go out of his way to avoid you. When you do run into him, his greetings are short, his smile no longer reaching his eyes.

You were confused and a bit hurt. What just happened? Why did he suddenly turn cold? You replay your last conversation in your mind, trying to figure out what went wrong, but nothing makes sense. All you know is that the friendly guy who sat down with you is not the same person who walked away.

A few days later, it gets worse. You’re at your locker when you suddenly feel a cold splash on your back. You spin around to find Beomgyu standing there, holding an empty water bottle, a smirk on his face.

“Oops,” he says, voice dripping with fake concern. “Didn’t see you there. Maybe you should have stayed in the water where you belong, Fish face.”

You’re stunned, unsure how to react. The once-friendly guy who was so nice to you is suddenly mocking you in front of everyone. From that moment on, Beomgyu’s attitude takes a complete 180. He starts calling you “Fish face” whenever he sees you, making snide comments about your lunch choices, and even getting others to join in on the teasing.

One day, he “accidentally” bumps into you in the hallway, knocking your books to the ground. As you scramble to pick them up, he leans down, his voice low so only you can hear. “Maybe you should lay off the fish. It’s making you slow.”

Another time, you find your locker filled with sardines. The stench is unbearable, and you know it’s Beomgyu, but you can’t prove it. When you glare at him across the room, he just raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his lips.

…And you realise Beomgyu isn’t just joking around—he’s trying to get under your skin.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

During a class trip to the lake, you were enjoying the sun and trying to avoid Beomgyu’s latest torment. But as you soaked in the sun, you noticed Beomgyu sitting alone at the far end of the lake, looking more isolated than usual.

A mischievous plan began to form.

You’d had enough of his bullying and figured this was your chance to get a little revenge. With a mix of nerves and determination, you decided to approach him. Quietly, you tiptoed toward Beomgyu, who was sitting with his back turned, completely unaware of your approach.

You took a deep breath, steeled yourself, and with a swift motion, gave him a playful shove. “Oops!” you exclaimed as he toppled forward, arms flailing. Beomgyu fell into the lake with an undignified splash. The lake wasn’t very deep, so you knew he wouldn’t drown, but you still watched with a bit of satisfaction.

However, what happened next was anything but expected. As soon as Beomgyu hit the water, something incredible occurred. Instead of flailing to stay afloat, his body started shimmering, and before your very eyes, he transformed into a crappie fish—a small, silvery fish with big, surprised eyes. Within moments, he was no longer a boy but a fish, darting away into the depths. The fish flopped around in the shallow water, looking utterly bewildered.

You blinked, rubbing your eyes, thinking you must be seeing things. But no, there he was, your school bully, transformed into a fish.

Your mouth hung open in shock. “What… just happened?” you whispered to yourself.

You crouched down, staring at the fish with wide eyes. “Beomgyu?” you asked tentatively. The crappie fish gave you an indignant flip of its tail, as if to say, Yes, it’s me, you idiot!

You blinked, convinced you were experiencing some weird heatstroke from the sun.

“What the—?” you gasped, doing a double take. Beomgyu was now a fish, and he was swimming in circles like he was auditioning for a role in a nature documentary.

You stood there, stunned, unable to contain a burst of laughter. “Oh. My. God,” you managed between giggles. “Beomgyu, you’re a fish!”

The crappie fish flopped its tail helplessly as if trying to say, “This is not what I had in mind for a day at the lake!”

As the panic subsided, you realized you had stumbled upon the most ridiculous secret ever: your bully was a half-fish-man. You couldn’t help but chuckle. All those times he’d used his “superior” swimming skills to mock you, and here he was, flopping around like a fish out of water—literally.

After a few moments, Beomgyu managed to wriggle his way back to the shore, and with a dramatic splash, he transformed back into his human form, dripping wet and looking both embarrassed and annoyed.

“Not a word,” he hissed, glaring at you with a mix of embarrassment and anger. You just nodded, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “I didn’t know you were… well, a fish!”

Beomgyu gave you a look that could only be described as a mix of frustration and resignation. “Yeah, well, now you know,” he muttered, drenched and slightly fishy-smelling.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“So, here’s the deal,” Beomgyu said, his voice low and menacing. “You keep quiet about my little… fishy situation, and I’ll keep quiet about yours.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed. “I’m talking about that… thing you’ve been hiding. The one where you, um, almost embarrass yourself in public. That cringe love letter thing”

Your face turned crimson as the memory hit you. The “love letter” in question was actually an incredibly awkward and deeply personal letter you had written to your childhood crush, but you had mistakenly sent it to the entire student body. The entire school knew about your embarrassing crush and your heartfelt if somewhat clumsy, declarations of love.

You tried to play dumb. “What thing? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Beomgyu smirked. “Oh, come on. The one where you—”

“Alright, alright!” you interrupted, throwing up your hands in surrender. “Just keep quiet about it. I’ll keep your secret, no problem.”

Beomgyu’s expression softened just a fraction. “Glad we could come to an understanding. And hey, thanks for not making this a bigger deal. I wouldn’t want to be a fish in a tank of gossip.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

After returning home, your mind was buzzing with a whirlwind of thoughts. The incident with Beomgyu had been both shocking and strangely comedic, and you were still trying to process everything that had happened.

You sat down in your room, replaying the events of the day in your mind. The image of Beomgyu transforming into a crappie fish kept flashing before your eyes, making you laugh and shake your head. Did I really just see my bully turn into a fish? you wondered, as you drifted off to sleep, struggling to reconcile the bizarre reality with your ordinary life.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The next day at school, you were bracing yourself for the inevitable encounter with Beomgyu. The buzz about the lake incident was still fresh, and you knew he’d be on high alert.

You walked into school, spotting Beomgyu leaning against the lockers, chatting with his friends. Without missing a beat, you approached him, a grin already forming. “Morning, Nemo! Any plans to visit the reef today?”

Beomgyu shot you a mock glare and whispered to you. “You’re not seriously going to keep this up, are you?”

You shrugged. “As long as you keep giving me material, Fish Face.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re relentless.”

In class, you sat a few seats away from Beomgyu, but the banter didn’t stop. Every time the teacher mentioned something remotely related to water, you’d glance over at him with a knowing smirk. At one point, the teacher brought up the topic of marine biology, and you leaned over to whisper, “Should I take notes for you, Mr. Aquatic Expert?”

Beomgyu shot you a look of faux exasperation. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“More than you know,” you replied, stifling a laugh.

Lunchtime was your favourite part of the day. You grabbed your tray and headed to your usual spot, only to see Beomgyu already sitting there, munching on his food. You couldn’t resist. “You didn’t order sushi, did you? I hear it’s risky for your kind.”

He nearly choked on his sandwich, giving you a look that was half amusement, half annoyance. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you said cheerfully, taking a seat across from him. “But hey, at least I’m not telling the whole school about your secret.”

Beomgyu smirked. “Touché. But don’t forget, I’ve got dirt on you too.”

You nodded, acknowledging the truce. “Fair enough. We’ll call it even—for now.”

Then sudden realization hits you.

“Wait….Beomgyu?’

‘What”

“Is that why…you bullied me??”

“That wasn’t bullying you know-”

“You don’t call this bullying?? Wanna experience the same?”

“H-hey- um, fine. I’m sorry. You loved eating my kind so what do you expect from me?”

“But I didn't-”

“Well, now you know. Stop eating my family in front of me”

And you were left utterly lost for words.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

In between classes, you’d pass Beomgyu in the hall and toss out random fish puns just to keep him on his toes. “Don’t flounder on your way to math class!” you’d say, or, “Better swim fast, you might be late!”

Beomgyu groaned every time but couldn’t suppress his laughter. “You really need new material,” he joked.

“Maybe, but these work just fine,” you shot back with a grin.

Over the next few days, your interactions with Beomgyu settled into a rhythm that was both strange and unexpectedly fun. The tense bullying that had once defined your relationship had evolved into something resembling a weird, but entertaining, rivalry.

Every morning, you and Beomgyu would exchange jabs as if it were a regular routine. The fish jokes had become a staple, with you coming up with increasingly creative ways to tease him about his aquatic secret. Beomgyu, to his credit, started firing back with his own playful insults, and soon, your exchanges were the talk of the school.

Other students noticed that something had changed, but no one could quite figure out why the former bully and his favourite target were now acting like they were in some kind of odd comedy duo.

“Nice shoes,” you’d say, passing him in the hallway. “Do they come with flippers?”

“Only if yours come with a life vest,” he’d retort without missing a beat.

In gym class, the teacher announced a surprise dodgeball tournament, and by some twist of fate, you and Beomgyu ended up on the same team.

Initially, you both tried to ignore each other, but it quickly became clear that you made a surprisingly good team. When you weren’t busy tossing sarcastic remarks at each other, you were actually coordinating plays like pros.

“Think you can handle this?” you asked, tossing Beomgyu the ball.

“Just watch and learn, Shark Bait,” he shot back, hurling the ball with a precision that left the other team scrambling.

By the end of the game, you were both grinning and high-fiving like old friends. The rest of the class looked on, confused by the sudden camaraderie.

Despite your growing rapport, the unspoken agreement to keep each other’s secrets remained intact. You both knew that one wrong move could lead to some major embarrassment, so neither of you pushed too hard. However, there were still moments when you’d catch each other’s eye and share a knowing smirk, a silent acknowledgment of the ridiculousness that had brought you together.

“Just remember,” Beomgyu would whisper whenever the topic of swimming came up, “you still owe me for that lake incident.”

“And you still owe me for that letter,” you’d reply with a wink.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

As the days passed, the tension between you and Beomgyu faded more and more. While you still teased each other mercilessly, there was a growing sense of mutual respect. Beomgyu even started helping you out with homework from time to time, and you found yourself looking forward to your daily banter.

It was as if the bizarre secret had forged a bond between you, one that neither of you had anticipated.

One afternoon, as you were both hanging out by the bleachers after school, Beomgyu surprised you by asking, “So… what’s the deal with us now? Are we still enemies, or are we… something else?”

You thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess we’re frenemies with benefits.”

“Benefits?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know—like, you get to keep your fishy secret, and I get to keep my love life disaster under wraps.”

Beomgyu laughed. “Fair enough. Frenemies it is.”

There was a comfortable silence for a moment, a far cry from the animosity that used to define your interactions.

“Hey,” Beomgyu said, breaking the silence. “Thanks for not being… you know, a complete jerk about everything.”

You chuckled. “Same to you, Fish Face. Maybe this whole ‘frenemies’ thing isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, genuinely this time. “Yeah, maybe it’s not.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

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66sharkteeth · 9 months

Text

more thoughts (positive for a change)

sorry to keep treating this like a personal journal when most of you are here for CoB content but it remains the 1 place where i feel semi-safe talking about things w/o blasting them to 10k+ people while also having more than 0 people listening

but just feeling a little hopeful for once! i got invited to speak on my 2nd ever panel today. it looks like it's a small convention and it's far too early to know if it'll actually pan out (not even responding today bc im trying to be more strict about giving myself wednesdays off), but it's still just...really cool that i'm actually being recognized as a professional and invited to things.

i still think so much about how when i was like.....12....or something, we had to do one of those like...dream life assignments. and i remember exactly what i said- i wanted to be a mangaka in japan with a studio apartment (yes, i was a very cringy kid. i called my friends -chan and -kun too). then i got older and more realistic. realized i could do art, but never my own project, and yeah, that's what i did for a long time.

yet... here i am now?!! granted, i never moved to japan (which i'm fine w/ lol) and it turns out studio apartments kinda suck and i much prefer a 1 bedroom...but i'm making a living off of that comic i came up w/ in middle school when had 0 concept of reality and how unlikely the chance to do that would be. and... i dunno! for a kind of rare moment, i feel like i can keep doing it (knock on wood)? if it's not obvious by now, i can get kinda doom and gloom about my future (and i wont even think about the industry as a whole w/ AI becoming more of a problem every day), but just for this moment i feel kinda optimistic?

i still have no idea what my future holds with webtoon. I have no idea when I'll have something ready to pitch again or if they'll even take it, but for once I feel like that uncertainty doesn't mean all or nothing. I kinda feel confident for once that even once CoB concludes on Webtoon, I can keep doing this to some capacity, whether that's through another series, physically printing CoB, somehow continuing CoB, I dunno yet. like i dunno. i think i'm just finally having this dawning realization that i am a professional? and other people see me as such? ik, probably a dumb thing to just now be realizing but blah blah, imposter syndrome or something, etc etc.

not sure where i'm going with this but just thank you guys for your support. if you're one of the like 100 people who actually follow me here, tbh you're probably one of my more dedicated readers, so thanks for being part of making this quite literal childhood fantasy dream come true. and shout out to the people actually inviting me to stuff on the super slight chance they actually follow me here. it seriously gave me kind of a reminder that oh yeah, i am a professional and good at this

#rambles #not cob

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versadies · 2 years

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been a while since ive posted brainrots but imagine genshin sagau (the one with creator!reader) except it’s sort of like surviving romance from webtoon 😍😍😍⁉️⁉️⁉️

content // blood, violence, religious themes, grammar errors

basically, you wake up in genshin one day — how awesome right? except, it’s not awesome when the first thing that happened to you when you stepped foot into mondstadt are two knights accusing you for “copying the divine creator” before killing you straight away without letting you speak.

what’s weirder is how just when you thought you’ll wake up to your world from your weird dream, you wake up in the same spot in genshin. it took another death for you to put two together that every time you die, time somehow rewinds back to when you first wake up in genshin.

so like any other person, you decided to try and not to die while thinking of a way to go back to your home.

one detail about this strange situation is how every time you go back in time, no one seems to remember the events that occurred, making it somewhat easier for you to not do the same mistakes you did.

it should’ve been easy — especially in a game like genshin impact — but it’s not easy when every single characters in the game, including the ones you loved so much when they were just fictional characters, are after your head for the same reason as your first two killers: for copying the divine creator with no shame!

it was during your fourth life when you found out about this divine creator that made life hard for you. apparently, there’s someone out there who has the same face as you and is the “god” of teyvat that everyone worships, and you’re unfortunately considered an imposter in this world who must be wiped out.

another thing about your situation is that somehow, all other living beings — be it hilichurls, slimes, and even ruin guards — are nice to you, helping you get away from the cruel npcs and characters who want nothing but your head.

take note, that’s not the strangest thing in this weird world.

after a near-death experience thanks to the darknight hero, you found out that your blood is the color of gold—

and every time a character sees it, it seems as if they woke up from a brainwash (plot twist, the imposter brainwashed the acolytes into thinking they’re the real one thanks to dottore’s inventions or an ability of theirs).

to make things angsty; if you somehow managed to made everyone convinced that you’re actually the creator that they oh so worshipped and praised, the real imposter will immediately kill you out of desperation, causing you go back to square one and on the verge to just give up.

but what if, somehow, when you go back to square one after that, some characters actually remembered the past event?

and how can they help you?

#— ( head empty just brainrots 😋 )#i could srs make a short series ab this tbh #SO MANY IDEAS #genshin impact x reader #genshin sagau #genshin x reader #sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau cult au #sagau idea #genshin x gn reader #imposter sagau #genshin cult au #genshin impact sagau

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pruneunfair · 29 days

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My feelings on cry or better yet beg and the utter wasted potential for a psychological tragedy of the imbalance of relationships between noblemen and their mistresses

First off, if I was told I could only kill off one male lead, it'd be him

Lot of people rn especially on tik-tok probably would flame me for this with the "at least he loves Layla! He's so protective of her!"

"it's a dark romance! It won't be sunshine and rainbows you snowflake!"

"He just doesnt know how to express his emotions because he's so sheltered!"

No, just no, I don't care how "hot" he is, I don't care if he's your protective little bad boy. I don't care about his supposed character development, That's a straight up abuser who started off killing birds knowing it would damage to Layla to straight up assaulting her. (I don't know if that will stay in the webtoon, but it was in the novel) no character development can make me like a fucking rapist

Like how in the hell is Claudine considered worse than Mathhias, sure she isn't so peachy herself but goddammit to think of the fiance who if anything would be supported had she been the main protagonist, yes she's pretty demeaning, a bit shallow, and only views Matthias as the perfect Duke, but at least she's not going around mentally torturing a boy who can't do anything against her. I haven't gotten to her ending yet but from what I hear, it isn't a good one. She such a wasted opportunity since she is such a perfect example of a woman prepped and groomed to just be a Dukes wife would come out feeling that her worth only comes her husband.

Justice for Claudine, I just know there's a fanfic out there where you get with Riette, grow as your own person, and live a pleasant life.

You wanna know what really hurts me about this manhwa though? The fact that's it's so unintentionally accurate to how horrible it truly is to be a mistress in an era where women, especially women with no royal titles or status, were often treated by rich and powerful men. They would mostly have no right to say no to a man who decides he wants her, Layla romanticizing her abuse is not just heartbreaking but also unfortunately realistic as it's a coping mechanism for those who had endured nothing but abuse their whole life so they tend to shove their feelings in a box and pretend everything is okay (obviously this isn't the same for all victims of abuse, it's one of the many coping mechanisms people could develop)

In a lot of historical manhwa, there's usually the obligatory mistress character designed to be a dumb trashy bimbo to uplift the lead. Most of the time, the mistress in question is either a daughter of minor nobility that was chosen by a Emperor, crown prince, or Duke, or the mistress lived her life as a poor farm girl and in some situations lived a life where no one cared about her and was likely abused, the latter is often rare for these mistress characters since authors of those stories only want you sympathizing with the leads but in rare cases, the mistress did have a hard life but it ends up being undermined to further damage the mistress as torture/revenge porn or in Laylas case: used as an explanation to give a disturbing reason to why she ends up falling in love with Matthias which wouldn't be wrong if the story was written in a way that was a tragic one, not a romantic one.

you would think this kind of glamorouzation of abuse would only exist in the authors mindset and the degeneracy that is a junior high girls mind, but no, the ides that Layla is somehow the one in the wrong for her own abuse and reluctance of Matthias and there is even an Instagram post claiming she has BPD for being too "difficult" they sound like those 1950s doctors that find any reason to lobotomize a patient.

Laylas character does open the truths of what it's truly like to be practically owned by a nobleman, she's not like Rashta or Aisha from divorcing my tyrant husband where she's portrayed as a silly and cute strumpet with ulterior motives, she is genuinely upset but she can't do anything about it so all she can do is convince herself that Matthias loves her so she can keep her sanity, but where it goes wrong is that instead of portraying this as an unhealthy yet sole coping mechanism for an abusive relationship, the story just chalks it down to "silly Layla! You'll see that he's just misunderstood and you really do love him deep down!" Its frankly atrocious that the one time a story has a realistic pair of the typical women in this trope, the first wife who is classy and refined and the mistress who is young and free spirited ends ultimately destroyed yet again with a case black and white writting. One woman must be good and the other woman must be bad.

Frankly these characters are well written for the most part and until I realized I supposed to see Matthias as the love interest and not Kyle, I was fine with who Matthias was since he was presented more so as a villain, the art is also one of the prettiest cottagecore artstyles I've ever seen to the point where the 3D models look really good since it blends in perfectly, it's just sad that cry or better yet beg is a sick twisted tale equivalent to the average Colleen Hoover book.

#cry or better yet beg #Layla Llewellyn #anti matthias #Claudine von Brandt

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hellishboots · 2 years

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top ten reasons why you should vote for the ramshackle trio in the @obscure-skirmish showdown

sponsored by my huuge special interest and infodumping tendencies

pls read it i put a lotta effort and time into it 👉👈 (but ig the tl;dr is im incredibly autistic abt zeddy and her work and i really want them to win)

first off, who are these guys? skipp (the blonde-ish happy one), stone (the skrunkly emo boi), and vinnie (the pirate gremlin) are three hobos who do whatever they can to survive on the streets. pickpocketing, other kinds of theivery, murder, and general mischief. anything goes! the world theyre in is old-timey (@zeddyzi, the creator, has described it as walking into an antique shop). it was originally a comic on webtoon/tumblr, and now its getting an animated pilot sometimes! isnt that cool!?

so, do you like hobo children? the found family trope? little guys? amazing, unique art? funny characters? ramshackle has all of that and more!! so much more!

onto the actual list :3

reason #1: the comedy. ive already said this but lemme elaborate on it a bit more here. if you like comedy w heart, ramshackle might be the thing for you. the trio is just some dummies (endearing) doing dumb things together and they love each other and just waahhhh look at themm

reason #2: the art. just,

look

at it. zeddy mostly uses what i like to call a dirt color pallete. im just using more colorful examples bc i can. fun fact, my art style is heavily influenced by hers, and she also inspired me to draw a lot more. you should vote for that right?

reason #3: im really autistic abt ramshackle 🥺 and, and if you dont vote for it 🥺🥺youre being ableist🥺🥺🥺 /j (obviously vote for who you want to lmoo)

reason #4: uhh, i think im talking abt zeddy more than the actual ramshackle trio, so ehm, skipp! a happy-go-lucky air mandolin-playing apple enjoyer

he eats apples whole, core and all :0 also since he has no money he plays the air mandolin (and keep in mind this isnt rlly recent info so maybe its not canon anymore hehe, i dont rly see timestamps on posts). hes so dumb and sweet, youd vote for him right?

reason #5: stone. where do i start? hes a sopping wet pathetic emo whos addicted to monster energy, ciggies, and the weird goo leaking outta the old shack downtown (ok that one may not be... confirmed. yet). he also somehow has most of the fandom simping for him

reason #6: vinnie! the money gremlin! whos also vaguely pirate themed! and may or may not have stabbed someone in the dick (theres a post abt this but i cannot find it 😭)

if you dont vote for her, she might stab *you* in the dick. just sayin.

fuck. reason #7: i put a lot of effort into this propaganda post

🥺👉👈

reason #8: do you honestly need any more reasons for that? i just feel like if this much propaganda wont sway you, nothing will

reason #9: are any of these technically reasons? or just me seeing an opportunity to infodump abt my favorite thing and swooping in?

reason #10:

please.

#monke.maks #i am zeddys biggest fan <-(has a huge special interest on her and her work)#ramshackle #propaganda #ramshackle sweep!!!#long post #polls #tumblr polls #2023

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whyreyousoobsessedwithme · 10 months

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An itty bitty rant(ish)

I low-key don't trust ppl who hate Mira, like she's the sweetest character and has done nothing wrong and somehow fans find a reason to hate her. Like her not being a favorite is one thing, but hating her for being "useless" is another. There are so many side characters that don't play massive roles, but no one hates them. She's cries a lot, but she's probably one of the most mentally strong characters in this webtoon after all that she’s been through. Also, how weird is it that Zack fans are hating her for being his love interest.

just saw some weird ass mira hate comments and it ruined my mood a bit 😤

Anyways my mommy bought me a cute dress so I'm not too irritated. Just wild af to see fans get jealous over fictional characters

#lookism #lookism mira #mira kim #lookism rant

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pudding-pompurin · 10 months

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Hello 🤗 can I pls request headcanons for Adam Bahri, where he genuinely falls in love (becomes obsessed 🙄) with a female reader who was initially his target. How do you think he will confess to her, what it will be like to date him and what he would be like when he's jealous?

Thank you ❤️❤️

Obsessed ll Adam Bahri ll The guy upstairs

Headcannons of where Adam Bahri from the guy upstairs becomes obsessed with his original target.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, Mentions of being a yandere, Swearing, Slight stalking.

Omg, thank you so much for this request. This webtoon is one that I really want to experiment with writing with, especially since this is such a good idea! I hope you enjoy these headcanons (Even as they turned into a more yandere-story) 💗 💗

-You were originally "chosen" by Adam as his next murder victim because of his physical attraction towards you. (And also because of convenience, as you lived next door).

-Everything about your eyes, smile, presence, and face made him instantly drawn in.

-Later when he began to know you better, he liked how you immediately saw more to him than his appearance.

-Once you become one of the more prioritized people on his list, suddenly, he would appear everywhere around you.

-Bookstores, cafes, museums, etc. Even in school zones, such as your university library.

-For instance, the first time he had actually approached you (outside of occasional glances while walking past each other, which seemed to increase drastically in the last few months, and with an ever-present smile) Was at an art exhibit.

-Groups of oil paintings brought to life with each stroke of a paintbrush, starting from darkest to lightest, with the final touches of highlights.

-You had been carefully examining a painting of a poised lady with one of those fancy hats accompanied by a white feather. She wasn't smiling or scowling, although the way the artist painted her skin was phenomenal as if her skin was created from porcelain.

-Awestruck by the painting, you barely noticed as a tall shadow had cast over you.

-The sudden presence had caused you to quickly spin around, seeing a man with dark hair and eyes who looked oddly familiar.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He said gently, smiling. "I live in the same apartment complex as you, on the same floor."

-At the time, you had recognized him and had thought nothing else of the matter.

-Once you both introduced yourself, he smoothly asked you to get coffee with him.

-That became the start of an eventual relationship, although it was probably not the healthiest one, as you know, one of them is a *cough cough* murderer.

-He had confessed unpredictably when he randomly asked you to hang out.

-While dating him, he would probably be a sweet person towards you (as shown by his previous relationships) while strategically thinking of when to kill you.

-Although, he would always pull back before he could actually commit the act.

-You were a sweet person, similar to previous victims, although you weren't as aloof as he presumed you would be. This would lead to meaningful conversations between you both, and eventually an obsession with you.

-He also couldn't figure out what was such a big factor leading to this, making him have an eventual yandere-like obsession.

-Because of this, whenever you talk to other people or whenever others show interest in you, they will somehow be found dead.

-Most of the murders of people around you would be because of his rooted jealousy.

Overall:

-I can't see Adam actually falling in love unless it's more like an obsession.

-Although, once he does, I doubt he would be able to turn back.

-If you want a more detailed oneshot of this topic, please feel free to request it again!

-I actually love this series sm, so thanks again for your idea.

#headcannons #slight yandere #The guy upstairs webtoon #Webtoon #The guy upstairs #Adam bahri #Adam bahri x reader #Requests open

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genericpuff · 11 months

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The Extended Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Finale Premiere

Alright, so I had mentioned leading up to the release of the newest LO episode that my feelings regarding LO returning were pretty "meh". Not hyped, but not completely back of mind either. Just sort of a weird calm before the storm type feeling that could go either way.

I'm glad I got to have that moment of calmness because good god, this episode was an absolute shitshow. And honestly, I'm not surprised, for several reasons:

Rachel has never been good at maintaining a buffer, even back at the start of the series she only ever had 2-3 episodes ready ahead of her schedule which is NOT an ideal buffer for an originals series.

Rachel has never been good at writing, she's very "draw first write later" and has stated as such in interviews that when she gets 'stuck' on what she's writing, she'll just start drawing and fit the pieces in later.

Four months is NOT enough time to both rest, attend massive conventions, and work on improving a project while also getting buffer episodes ready.

Because of the FP episodes remaining locked over the hiatus, technically Rachel only needed to have ONE episode ready upon return for the newest FP release, not multiple like she'd usually need like in the past during the S2 midseason hiatus or the season finale episodes which would unlock those FP releases like normal - so for all we know, she could have drawn this episode literally last week, especially when the promo material was so last minute. Frankly I think it was REALLY stupid for whoever it was who decided to keep these FP episodes locked (whether it was her or WT, it was more likely WT) but you can read all I have to say about that in my review of the midseason finale episodes.

All that's to say, no, there was never any guarantee Rachel was going to somehow "turn around" the ride we're currently on. I know that many of the critics were hoping for that to happen, but with the circumstances of the hiatus mixed with Rachel's bad habits of putting her best efforts into the procrastination projects that aren't her actual comic (ex. the few original pieces and LO sketches she put out during the hiatus) it just wasn't in the cards. This is where the comic is at and this is where it will remain until it's over.

I want to also point something out about this episode that was... really glaring to me.

As with all of these hiatus returns, LO got priority advertising in the first two banner slots and push notifications AND a popup ad within the app. This is unsurprising, Webtoons is still trying to milk this thing for what it's worth.

I know a lot of people are gonna focus on the art, or the fact that WT is continuing to shill LO, but I wanna point out the part that WT implemented specifically - "NEW SEASON".

This is literally just false. At best I'd like to think some intern just messed up and thought this was a new season, but it's literally not, the episode designation still says "S3". Note that the creators only design the banner art, the actual labels on top are put there by Webtoons.

But at worst, this feels like blatant lying to continue to hide the fact that LO is ending. Mind you, Rachel and Webtoons have still not put out official posts stating that this is the final arc. There is NOTHING from either of them to communicate to the audience that the comic is ending next year. It feels like they're trying to avoid the topic altogether out of fear of losing the fanbase they still have, rather than hyping up the comic's end for those who have stuck around to see how it all wraps up. And honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if this was the case, considering they're now trying to funnel the fanbase into Penguin/Inklore with new marketing deals and the whole Rachel Smythe Presents thing. They're trying to make this seem like the beginning of something "new" when it's really just a quiet shifting of management (Penguin House).

But all that aside, let's actually get into the episode. It's one episode after 4 months, which is not standard for LO's hiatuses, typically FP episodes release on schedule (meaning free readers start hiatuses 3 weeks after FP readers do), the only time this has been an exception has been with the 2 week breaks because the whole point of those was to build a buffer (which you can't do if you're going ahead and releasing the FP episodes anyways). For extended hiatuses like these, usually free readers still get their FP episodes, but that wasn't the case here. That means Rachel technically only needed one episode ready for the comic's return, and it shows. It really fucking shows.

FROM HERE ON OUT THERE WILL BE FASTPASS SPOILERS REGARDING EPISODE 254. DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED !!!

As per tradition, we get a title that means nothing at all. It just says what we already know.

Our collective husband Zeus is dying, no thanks to the poison cupcake fed to him by Apollo. For those who don't remember, Apollo had tricked Zeus into eating the cupcake by making him believe it was from Hebe. We are fully aware that it was Apollo who poisoned him. Remember that for later in this review.

Right off the bat we're off to a hilarious start, both with a cryptid appearance from Apollo in the background (lmao) who is, for some reason, ALREADY returning to the scene of the crime he just committed because... who knows at this point. Apollo and Psyche know it was Apollo at this point, I might add, but I have no clue why Apollo is actually returning to the scene of the crime when he has no idea Eros and Psyche know.

Moving on from that, can we talk about this hilarious dialogue?

"We have to call a doctor! Let's call Asclepius!"

"No, we can't trust him! Gosh darn it, why are we only bothering to think of ONE doctor in this universe where we've seen more than one doctor?? Guess Zeus is just gonna die! What a horribly contrived situation this is!"

And that's literally how I can best describe most of this episode. Contrived. There is a LOT of manufactured drama in this that makes ZERO sense even on a surface level.

And what do you mean exactly, Eros? "What a terrible system!" Is this supposed to be a joke? Lampshading? We've seen Persephone go to the gynecologist. There are non-god doctors who tend to gods all the time here.

Eros just doesn't seem to be that pressed over this, he sounds like Ned Flanders and that's NOT a good way to open up a scene like this... let alone an episode people have been waiting four months for.

Anyways, after a few pointless reaction panels (again remember I have to cut a lot of what I show here for Tumblr image limitations but I promise you, I'm keeping as much important stuff as I can in this, there's just THAT MUCH filler at this point), Eros and Psyche confront Apollo and he is... good god.

There is... so much to unpack here.

First of all, remember those theories about how Rachel was clearly trying to write Apollo as this "secret twist villain" the whole time but it doesn't work because Apollo is simultaneously written as both a 'conniving villain' and a massive dumbass at the same time?

Well, I finally have a more appropriate term for him. He's your average red pill redditor - someone who thinks he's smarter than everyone else when really all he does is sit on reddit all day using big words incorrectly in arguments he gets himself into with a bunch of equally-air-headed dumbasses.

"You can't possibly understand the nuances of the Olympian political system," Apollo said proudly, a man who had, ironically and obliviously, run for president in a monarchy. The union of kettle and pot is eternal.

He's the Slappable Jerk but instead of it being a painfully hilarious impression, it's just painful and hilarious for all the wrong reasons.

this is so stupid because it's 1.) Eros pointing out how obvious Apollo's plan was, despite Apollo acting smart two seconds ago with a goddess who, mind you, has been a goddess for ten years, and 2.) patricide isn't even intrinsically linked to politics, there's nothing 'political' about a guy trying to kill his dad except in, idk, a monarchy, which again, Apollo has spent ten years trying to rise to power in as a president which is a completely different form of government.

If I wanted to be really granular with this, I'd like to think Apollo is making some kind of point about the critics who call out LO's whack as fuck political system (especially in the trial arc) - as if he's saying "well you're just a stupid reader and this is fantasy where you don't understand exactly what political system we're using, so shut the fuck up you stupid twig" - but I don't think it's meant to be that deep. I think it's just Rachel trying to write a smart character and then failing at it because she, herself, is not a smart writer. And I'm really inclined to believe that more than the theory about this being some kind of meta-narrative about the critics because this entire plotline is contrived and stupid down to its core.

I did not cut anything out here, that's the pacing. Leto literally just appears out of nowhere and uh oh spaghettio's, she has Kassandra! Remember Leto? The character we were led to believe was truly "pulling the strings" until she disappeared from the story completely after she realized that Apollo and Persephone weren't a thing, even going so far as to call out her own son for being a fucking dumbass? Well, she's back and once again she's being involved as some kind of "double agent" in this whole thing, even though we literally haven't seen her since halfway through S2.

"Mm yes, you're so stupid, falling into my trap! Even though you had no reason to remember Kassandra anyways because she's literally a mortal woman you just met and you yourself have committed acts of violence against mortals without a shred of care! I'm so smart! My plan is all coming together!"

We've never seen Apollo do anything except cry and poop his pants, the closest he got to being "powerful" was his attempts to murder Daphne (who he seems to have forgotten about in this "master plan" of his) but ultimately he's literally just a piss ant baby and there's no reason to believe that he could somehow outmatch the God of Love who can literally manipulate people's emotions and states of mind with his arrows. But yeah sure go off, you're so powerful and smart.

The worst part is, I can't even buy this as the narrative trying to be like "see how manipulative and conniving he is?" because it's just silly. We've SEEN this man cry with his victim complex, we've seen him say and do the DUMBEST things that don't lend to any amount of "intelligence" he may have, it comes across less as him being "smart the whole time" and more as him trying to sound smart but ultimately sounding incredibly stupid. And I can't even immerse myself into it and buy that maybe that's the point, because it doesn't feel like the point, it just feels like inconsistent writing, he doesn't feel like a 'threat', he's just monologuing.

Bad art and Apollo literally just repeating what Leto already implied so this is a waste of the audience's time.

This is the funniest panel in the whole episode because I can't tell if Apollo is supposed to be in the background (for some reason, despite him literally being in front of Eros and Psyche two seconds ago) or if he's in the foreground and just REALLY small for some reason. This is so off-putting. And of course, it's just Apollo explaining what we're ALREADY SEEING ONSCREEN.

You see, in addition to this episode being contrived, it also talks down to its audience a LOT by explaining exactly what we're seeing onscreen. It's like Rachel saw the criticisms about her not including enough to depict what's actually going on in her head and so she thought the solution was to spoon feed information over pictures that are already doing the job of explaining what's going on. Rachel really doesn't know how to write and even when she tries to implement changes that reflect criticisms that have been made of her writing, she somehow makes things worse because she completely misses the point of what those criticisms are trying to get across.

Anyways, without even trying to resist (for some reason) Eros and Psyche get sentenced to horny jail.

They're now trapped in a basement that Leto somehow has in her home. How do we know that?

HAHAHA FUNNY LAMPSHADING SO FUNNNYYYYYYY

Leto claims that they shouldn't try to escape because the dungeon is "enchanted", but she doesn't even bother to explain what that means. So they literally don't bother trying. They don't try to call her bluff, they don't try to teleport out of there, they literally just go "well shoot", shrug their shoulders, and accept their fate. Just like with the whole "we can't trust the only doctor we bothered to think of" situation, Eros and Psyche are turning out to be some of the stupidest, lowest-effort characters in this comic who literally can't be bothered to try because that would require too much brain power.

Notice how much time we've spent on this and we haven't gotten back to where the cliffhanger of the last episode left off? Well buckle up because there's still more to cover.

So it turns out Hebe was still inside with her dad, in FULL VIEW of what was going on through glass which is somehow COMPLETELY soundproof, and when Apollo steps inside, she just has no idea what happened. She never bothered to even look outside to see what was going on with Eros and Psyche, she's just been sitting on the floor staring at Zeus' dead face for what was likely several minutes, unless Rachel is seriously trying to convince us that conversation and hostage negotiation from earlier only took 2 seconds. The timeline is such a mess at this point that characters basically freeze in place as soon as they're not the focus of the scene.

Apollo rushes inside, acting shocked over the situation, and when Hebe asks where Eros and Psyche are (again, she could have just looked out the window at any time), he's just like "dur idk they just left lol" which Hebe just... buys, I guess.

That's just Persephone but yellow. She's even missing her beauty mark.

See how Apollo put his hand on Zeus' chest/shoulder by the way?

Apparently, despite Mr. Smarter Than Everyone Else trying to pretend it wasn't him, he's able to discern that Zeus is dying from a toxic and rare poison just from touching him. He doesn't even really seem to use his powers, he just touches him and goes "welp he's dead i guess lol don't bother asking me how I know that".

But oh nooo remember that note from before? Well gasp Apollo's gonna use it to frame Hebe! In front of no one else at all!

Hebe of course says she didn't write it, but Apollo continues to try and frame her anyways, even though, again, there's no one else present here, and so it effectively just becomes the most absurd form of gaslighting I've ever seen.

Again, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE HERE IN THE SCENE. He's just trying to claim she did it to absolutely no one at all, in the hopes of... what exactly? That she'll just take the fall for something she knows she didn't do? That she'll somehow be convinced? It's not like Hebe has the same thing going on as Persephone where she has a 'wrathful dark side' he could pin it on, this is just a criminal who just robbed a building pointing at the first person they see and yelling "YOU DID IT!"

All I'm saying is that Apollo would be really bad at Among Us. He'd be the type of player to kill someone, hit the report button, then claim yellow did it which, even if he DID convince the rest of the team, would still get kicked anyways as soon as yellow was proven through the eject to not be the imp and everyone would go "okay cool so yellow wasn't the imp, that means obviously it's purple self-reporting." It's a trick that doesn't even work anymore because of how old it is. Hebe isn't a child here, she's an 18 year old woman who should be fully capable of raising an eyebrow and wondering why Apollo is this quick to accuse her - almost like he's trying to hide the fact that he did it.

But Hebe can't catch onto this, just like Eros and Psyche, she has to act stupid for the sake of the plot.

At first I thought maybe Rachel was trying to do some "whodunit" scenario, but that doesn't work here because we already know who did it. And while there are stories that exist like that that pull it off (ex. Knives Out) the problem with trying to do this the way Rachel did is that the person being framed has to have this thing called motive. The reason why Knives Out and Glass Onion work so well is because the person who was murdered (or conspired against) is someone who is being targeted by multiple people who could all be the murderer. It's quite literally called out in Glass Onion as a form of smart lampshading. "It's like putting a loaded gun on the table, and turning off the lights."

But it doesn't work here because Hebe does not have motive. If you're going to attempt to frame a murder on someone, it has to be someone who would have reasonable motive to commit that murder, even if they didn't actually commit it.

And who among Zeus' children has motive?

What about the war-mongering bloodthirsty god of war who has been regularly sentenced to time in the Mortal Realm to fight in wars in which he's been regularly injured?

What about the chaos-seeking wrathful goddess who would do it to get revenge on the parental figure who cast her aside, or even just for the fun of saying she did it?

Why try and pin it on Hebe, the doting daughter of Zeus who's only had a collective of maybe 20 panels in the entire comic?

But then I realized... it's not Knives Out, it's the fucking Lion King.

Which is just as contrived - if not more - than the assumption this was gonna be some attempt to frame Hebe. It's not. He's literally just trying to keep her from assuming it was him. He could have just as easily played dumb without calling attention to the note but he intentionally went out of his way to try and be Scar from The Lion King , while completely missing the point of why that scene worked in the original movie.

Scar wasn't trying to 'frame' Simba for Mufasa's murder. He was trying to hide the murder, while also attempting to get the only heir to the throne out of the picture, so he passed the guilt of the death onto Simba - a child who, unlike Hebe, wouldn't have the ability to rationalize or realize his uncle his a scumbag - who then ran away from home because he was too terrified to face his family for what happened, assuming that it was all his fault when it wasn't.

That's not how this is panning out here. Hebe is the now 18 year old daughter of Zeus, and not one of his only children. She doesn't even fit into the whole "sons overthrowing their fathers" prophecy like Aries would. Apollo is literally just being a big idiot here by saying "well I'm gonna give you a headstart to run away, because if you stay, I might hurt you" (which btw, should be MORE of a smoking gun that Apollo did it??)

And again, it's all so contrived so that the plot can move forward. "Well I'm going to frame you for this murder, but y'know, you should just leave, I'm not gonna try and press it further lmao"

Again, Apollo is a fucking idiot here, because he just attempted to frame someone who has NO MOTIVE to harm Zeus, to absolutely NO ONE at all who would side with him, only to let her go which would leave her to question why Apollo would try to accuse and harm her in the first place before considering other options. And through ALL this he claims he's the smart one, which I can't even be bothered to "love to hate" because it's written so poorly.

And really it all comes down to how everyone else behaves in relation to Apollo that makes it so stupid and unbelievable. Apollo, you're not smart just because all the characters around you are intentionally being written to be as stupid and non-confrontation as possible. If you can only write a smart villain by making everyone else stupid, you haven't written a smart villain, you've written a dumbass whose victory only happens due to contrived plot convenience. It's not even done well like in Glass Onion, it's just bad writing, full stop.

And who does he call to report this emergency? The satyr police? His son the doctor?

No.

The media. Literally just "hello, the media?? I need your best journalist here stat!"

I need you to understand, even if he were calling a tabloid magazine like The Weekly Nark, you don't just... call a journalist to report a murder. These are not the actions of someone who's trying to absolve himself of guilt, these are the actions of a complete dumbass trying to get news coverage of his trophy kill who would be better off just playing dumb instead of trying to play smart. Even Walter White wasn't this fucking stupid despite all the times he fell on his own sword, Apollo is literally just instigating suspicion towards himself for no reason at all. He's self-reporting so hard and worst of all, you can't even take any of this seriously because of how corny it is. There's no dramatic tension, no stakes, it's just a bunch of characters performing in a really bad stage play and reducing every conflict to "well I guess Zeus is just dead now because no one's bothering to make an effort to stop Apollo or ask questions lmao"

It's truly the epitome of "this plot wouldn't exist if characters would just talk to each other."

But finally, FINALLY we mention the thing this episode is named after, the transition point to Persephone.

Just like with the midseason finale episode, there's a lot to cover here, so I'm gonna get more into it in a part two post.

That said, you can see already this is the messiest, most contrived bullshit to ever wind up in LO. It's trying so hard to be smart and it just comes across as a bunch of toddlers in the world's worst stage play rendition of Clue. None of what was done here was in any way dramatic or tense, it's just a bunch of characters infodumping shit we already know, trying to set up new plot threads that don't make any sense, and allowing one another to get away with what they're doing because they don't bother to even try.

It's completely manufactured, contrived nonsense. It's not "smart", it's not "so dumb it's brilliant", it's just dumb.

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#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #this is the comic that bought two eisners #uh i mean *won* two eisners #... no wait i had it right the first time lmao

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