#hate hatred malice hatred (i absolutely love it)

[ghostnorm]

just finished EP 64 of Riptide and oh my godddd chips nightmare curse actually makes me so upset, I feel so bad for him ugh :(( but I really cannot be that sad for him considering that it is ALL HIS FAULT. bro was hidden the best he can be from a SCARY BIG TIGER MAN, and all he thought was fluffy.. kity.,, I hate this man so much (affectionate)

[bietrofastimoff23]

I think most people exaggerate when they say that Aegon and Aemond hate each other. like yes, Aegon is jealous of Aemond because he gets the love of the family and is their pride, and is also someone he himself can never be, and Aemond is angry at Aegon, who does not act in accordance with his status as the firstborn and neglects his duties. but we also see how they actually interact, which cannot be said about any of them with Helaena.

when something happens, these two always look at each other to gauge the reaction. we see the brothers having a conversation before dinner without any tension, during which they play jokes on each other without malice and in which Aemond openly admits to Aegon that he absolutely does not approve of Viserys' idea of bringing the whole family together. Aemond always defends Aegon, and it doesn't matter to him whether his brother was the instigator of the conflict or not. At the same time, Aegon supports Aemond's speech without hesitation and instantly gets up from his seat when he sees Luke approaching his brother. damn, even in episode 9, their fight is not real, although it was the perfect opportunity to vent their anger at each other through blows.

in general, yes, their relationship is complicated, there is a place for envy, anger and contempt, but it was never about real hatred.

[litnerdwrites]

Feyre betrayed Nesta in the worst way...

It's a common stance that many people, regardless of if they love or hate Nesta/Rhys/the IC, seem to have, but I don't think it is. Was Nesta complacent in keeping it from her since she found out? Yes. Was that wrong of her? Yes again. Was blurting it out the way that she did also not ideal, to put it mildly? Absolutely yes. But was it out of malice? No.

And Nesta didn't care. Couldn't think around the roaring. 'Have any of them told you, their respected High lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?' Amren barked, 'Shut your mouth!' But her order was confirmation enough. Face paling, Feyre whispered again, 'What do you mean?' 'The wings,' Nesta seethed. 'The boy's Illyrian wings will get stuck in your Fae body during the labour, and it will kill you both.'

The idea that this was all said in malice just never sat right to me, and after scrolling through some comments on a video discussing the matter, the pieces finally clicked into place. First, let's talk about the hike, though.

Her breakdown after that hike wasn't a moment of catharsis and letting walls down. It was a weeks worth of exhaustion, dehydration and depression that resulted in Nesta giving in to the torture she was put through just to end it. It was a pivotal moment in the IC's efforts to break and then reconstruct her to their liking, or rather, to Feyre's liking. However, a vital stepping stone in reaching this point would be for them to gaslight and isolate her until she truly had no one. I mentioned before that I didn't think anyone in the NC would chose Nesta, and this is an example of why I believe that.

Nesta snarled, but Feyre stepped between them, hands raised. 'This conversation ends now. Nesta, go back to the House. Amren, you...' She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of ordering Amren around. Feyre finished carefully, 'You stay here.'

Nesta is clearly upset and hurting and Feyre disregards that entierly, not even offering to discuss or find out why Nesta is hurt or feeling the way she is. Feyre didn't bother to try and understand Nesta before and she isn't bothering now. Either Feyre assumes she knows what Nesta is thinking/ feeling, or she just doesn't care. She dismisses her, telling her to go back to her prison, disregarding Nesta's choices, autonomy and opinions again.

If I recall right, it was Amren who informed Nesta that she was free to go where she wanted if she made it down the ten thousand steps. Feyre wouldn't order Amren, even to stand up for her sister, but happily go against Amren's own words to punish Nesta? Hypocrisy at it's finest.

All of this leads to one outcome: Nesta feeling trapped. Cornered and without a single ally in the whorld who would defend her properly. Isolated from anyone who'd be willing to treat her with decency, while believing she doesn't even deserve the basics of kindness. It leaves Nesta more prone to actually going through with committing suicide, since the behaviour of these people, mixed with her own self hatred, sets a precedent for how Nesta believe she'd be treated.

We see this when Nesta first meets Emerie, thinking to herself that 'the invitations would stop' when Emerie learned what nesta was really like. Or at least what Nesta perceived herself to be like.

Even though Nesta has Emerie and Gwyn, she has no reason to think, based on what brainwashing the IC has already done coupled with her self deprecating mindset, that they wouldn't side with the IC. This isn't to say Emerie and Gwyn are like the IC by any means. I think they're great friends to Nesta, and if that changes or not later on is more so up to SJM and her writing, rather than their characterisation. It's the reality that the IC have created for Nesta through abuse, gaslighting and borderline torture that's wound up feeding in to Nesta's already existing trauma and self worth that has lead to her becoming isolated this way.

And Nesta didn't care. Couldn't think around the roaring. 'Have any of them told you, their respected High lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?'

The comment on the video I saw explained that, while Nesta was angry when saying this, she wasn't trying to hurt Feyre or take her anger out on anyone. Nesta was angry because she wasn't told that she made a new trove. She was angry that these people had the audacity to vote on her life, and take bodily autonomy from her. She was angry that Feyre wasn't acknowledging or even trying to understand how Nesta was feeling. She was angry that she was treated like the bad guy- or more like a petulant child in this scene, I suppose- and had her feelings dismissed again.

Dismissed the way her mother/grandmother used to when she was trained. The way her father did when he refused to hunt. The way the Mortal Queens did when Nesta merely asked them to save her people. The way Feyre did when she asked for Nesta's help again, and again, and again during the war, only for it to never be enough in the eyes of other. The way that Elain did when she got upset at Nesta time and time again for how she handled her trauma or how she wasn't over her trauma or how Nesta tried to protect her. The way Cassian dismissed her feelings when he got mad at her for having an opinion of Rhysand.

Nesta was angry. She had every right to be angry. Most people would be angry, and alone, and if they already had suicidal thoughts like Nesta, having been abandoned by everybody while gaslit into thinking it was fine, and then only called upon to be used for the benefit of others while the snickered behind her back and dismissed her again.

As the commenter put it; She was trying to find someone who would relate to her anger. Nesta wanted an ally, someone who wouldn't leave her alone. Someone to be by her side and, perhaps subconsciously, thought that Feyre, who'd hunted for them and helped look after them for years, would chose Nesta's side.

The parallels between Nesta and Feyre's situation here are clear, and I think Nesta understood that when she said what she said. I think that Feyre believing Nesta said it to hurt her was a gross misunderstanding on her part, but it's not like she ever asked Nesta how she felt. Now that I think about it, for all that Feyre talks about Nesta feeling too much, and taking everything to heart, she never once confirms with Nesta. Never asks how Nesta feels.

Since coming to the Night Court, Nesta's feelings and traumas have been twisted and spoken about only in relation to how Feyre feels.

'Do you know how embarrassed I was when we got the bill this morning and my friends-my family- had to hear all about it?'

The intervention began, not because of Nesta doing something to risk hurting herself, but because Feyre was embarrassed and started crying into her breakfast.

'All of it pains me… It pains me that Nesta has become… this. It pains me that she and Feyre are always at each other’s throats. It pains me that Feyre hurts over it, and I know Nesta does, too.'

Cassian is pained, not because Nesta is suffering so greatly that she isolated herself for her own sisters (who didn't really act like sisters between the end of ACOWAR to... well now, so it's understandable), or because Nesta felt her only reprieve from her pain was in sex and alcohol, but because Feyre hurts over it. He knows Nesta does (but he doesn't know she hates fire? Or is uncomfortable at their social gatherings, since in ACOFS he somehow hoped she wouldn't take the bribe money and say she enjoyed their solstice party??? Because...Why?) But, of course, it's Feyre's feelings on the matter that are prioritised.

'Nesta is Nesta. She does what she wants, even if it kills her sister.'

Rhysand, not that I expect much from him, honestly, is utpse, not because he can't find a way to help Nesta. Not because his court is actively cruel to Nesta, hell, he joins in. Not because Nesta is in pain, in no small part because of him and his court. Not even because Nesta is spending his money. Because she's upsetting Feyre. Because, god forbid, Nesta have trauma and handle it in a way that doesn't make his wife happy.

Feyre tells others how she thinks Nesta feels, the others go with it, or just come to their own conclusions, not sure which is worse, but nobody stops to consider how she feels. Feyre feeling like Nesta said it to hurt her, I think, is simply proof that she doesn't understand Nesta.

Let me ask you, if you found out you were lied to in a way that affects your ability to make informed decisions regarding your own body, by someone you were supposed to trust, and who should've had your back, and that your own sibling has been betrayed by the same people in a very similar, if not identical way, and yet you're the one being turned into the bad guy, and dismissed, would that not make you feel isolated and frustrated?

It's understandable that Nesta tried, either consciously or subconsciously, feel less alone by appealing to common ground to find an ally. Nesta mentions at the end of ACOSF that she believes Feyre loved her from the start, and after those years in the cabin, I think Nesta sees Feyre as someone reliable.

This scene doesn't feels like Nesta trying to hurt Feyre. It feels like Nesta trying to reach out to the one person she could rely on; Feyre. Her mother was abusive, her father was a deadbeat, Elain was her ward, and the IC hate her.

'Nesta studied me for a long moment. And then she said with equal quiet, though we could all hear, “I can’t get into a bathtub, anymore. I have to use buckets.” I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging water…'

Amren tells Cassian to keep reaching out his hand, even though Nesta has reached out her own time and time again. Esspecially to Feyre, as she was the one Nesta relied on before. Possibly even the only person Nesta has ever relied on, and Fyre was the one she was trying to rely on now.

Nesta relied on Feyre, and needed to rely on her again. To have strength together, in a situation where they both lost their choices and autonomy to Rhysand and his (cause don't pretend it's even slightly Feyre's) IC.

It may have been wrong to say it in that way, at that time, under those circumstances, but this, to me, feels like Nesta's way of reaching out her own hand only to be misunderstood, punished, and dismissed again. And again. And again.

In a way, I think Feyre might have, unintentionally, betrayed Nesta in a worse way than Elain ever has. Elain was a ward. Almost like a child, to Nesta. They were never on equal footing. Moreover, Nesta was never punished if she upset Elain, no that she should be, or if Elain misunderstood her. Nesta never relied on Elain the way she relied on Feyre. She never trusted or had faith in Elain, the way she clearly trusted Feyre. She had thought she'd found an ally, with similar pain, in Feyre, in the moments she spilled the secret, but Feyre didn't care.

When I was reading the scene where Cassian told Feyre his idea to take Nesta on a punishment hike, she sounded all too gleeful when telling him how miserable Nesta would be. That, in my opinion, is the worst betrayal of all.

[nilsavatar]

DAY 2 - EATING OUT

Parings: Ao'nung x Fem!human

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI, no use of Y/N, SMUT in the end, fingering, praising, size difference, soft-dom Ao'nung, fluff Ao'nung, oral (f receiving), slow-burn, ANGST, mention of KirixSpider. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: After Kiri's seizure, against all odds Jake convinces Ronal and Tonowari to agree to the temporary setup of a human camp at Awa'atlu. Ao'nung is against it, but meeting Spider's twin sister will change his mind about the aliens. Or at least about her.

Word Count: 6,6k

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In the eyes of any Na'vi, human beings knew nothing but destruction. They killed, they plundered, they looted, they stole.

Ao'nung was no exception, despite never having had a chance to meet one. His opinions were based on tales — far from flattering —, testimonies from the not-too-distant past, and the tulkun carcasses moored offshore. A single precise hole pierced their palate to the brain. Too precise to be an accidental wound. Therefore, when his parents agreed for a temporary lab to be set up near Awa'atlu following Kiri's seizure, Ao'nung fiercely opposed it. Never had he leveraged his title as he did that day.

"I appreciate your stance, ma‘itan (son), but you are not yet olo'eyktan. Until then, you will do as you are told."

He might have done as he was ordered, but that did not imply that he would become familiar with the ketuwong (aliens). Or so he believed. One thing about humans still eluded him. Something that would systematically dismantle all his beliefs.

Their immense complexity. Capable of atrocious cruelties, harbored in them also an incredible goodness. A combination of oxymorons made up the intricate human nature. Malice and kindness. Destructiveness and creativity. Cowardice and tenacity. Ignorance and intelligence.

Hatred and love.

Even the lowliest creature, as that who’d usurped and appropriated his world as if they had the authority, had beauty. He saw it in how they dealt with Kiri and the kind smiles they looked at Lo’ak from afar. They seemed to empathize with his discomfort and the feeling of being different, as they were just as out of place as he was on Eywa'eveng (Pandora). Even in the sympathetic or unaffected strains with which they accepted the coldness and suspicion of the natives. Neytiri included.

When contemplating the woman, the boy frequently pondered the reason for the intense hostility; after all, her husband was formally one of them. He knew their story though, as everyone on Pandora. His father himself was a constant reminder of it by the almost inexplicable condescension he reserved for the Sullys.  The legendary Toruk Makto and Palulukan Makto. The chosen ones who led the clans to victory against the Sky People. The same ones who now walked among the reef people with their tails between their legs. Quite literally.

He experienced firsthand the feeling of being a letdown and living in the constant shadow of a flawless sibling.

Tsireya. His sweet little sister, the family's ray of sunshine, was both loved and hated by him. At times, he found comfort in the idea that, if she did not exist, perhaps their parents would be less strict with him.

Na'vi and Terrestrials weren’t so different after all. The same conflicting feelings coexisted in their hearts. The same inconsistency. Like loving an alien in an artificial body, but abhorring his origins. And now that he had a way to deal with them every day, even if from a distance, he realized more and more how much they had in common. At first glance, they might have seemed absolutely diverse. Humans were so small in comparison, so vulnerable. A simple, well-aimed kick could have shattered their fragile bones. They looked delicate, their skin velvety soft. Women at least, from what little he had deduced observing the only human girl on the island. 

Celeste Socorro.

Besides her small size and complete unsuitability to survive on the satellite, her colors were all wrong and seemed to lack uniformity with other specimens of her species. A commonality, it appeared. Their hair varied between disparate shades, their complexions tended to be warm and earthy, and there was no trace of blue excluding the irises of some of them. Celeste wasn’t one of those, though. Her eyes were black; a sun-dried bark brown color made it challenging to distinguish the pupil unless carefully scrutinized. Straw-blond strands, often gathered in a loose ponytail, ran halfway down her back. A few unruly wisps fell to the edges of her mask. Like other humans, she had a sense of modesty that he couldn’t get. Her body was almost entirely veiled by clothing, which didn’t compliment her frame.

Another reason for calling her odd was he couldn't explain why he was interested in her. He should have felt disgust, or at least indifference, but instead, none of this seemed to shake him when his eyes rested on her petite figure. Indeed, he had even found himself looking for her in the crowd. It usually took place at times of maximum distraction. When none of his duties could occupy his day and he loitered around the village. Thoughts wandered, confused until they took the form of the girl. He was frequently bombarded by reality itself. As if to shout in his face that he could not elude her.

Today was no exception. Irritated as never by Celeste's visage intruding on his mind to pay attention to where his heavy legs were taking him, her voice infiltrated his ears. Looking around, Ao'nung realized he was right near the Sullys’ marui. Inside, Kiri was styling Celeste’s hair, while the girl held in her small hands a monitor depicting a scan of Kiri's brain — something he had learned in that brief time in contact with the aliens. From the way the halfbreed rolled her eyes, she was familiar with her friend’s rather authoritative recommendations. 

He had a certain fascination with tawtute (human) contraptions, despite having a fictional feel to native eyes. They were the preserve of a technological development aimed at minimizing the fate of their physical weakness.  He somehow admired their perseverance, their intellectual flare, their nearly utopian idea of progress, but at the expense of what? They had lost any kind of attachment to their intimate and spiritual sphere, chasing answers that did nothing but create new questions and new quests. That same progress that had been born with good intentions to improve their conditions, to help, to save, had repeatedly set them against each other. Because, apparently, the instinct of prevarication and the lure of power were stronger than anything else. Devoid of unified purpose, they were nothing more than a dull shell of flesh.

An incredibly cute wrapper if they had asked his opinion about the human girl without an avatar.

“Even though I know he isn’t our father, he has his memory. He’s built on his genetic code. I can’t help but wonder if a side of him loves us. If he loved our mother.” The silence that had fallen was suffocating when she spoke again. “It seemed like it when he recognized us. The way he looked at us. He wasn’t just surprised; his eyes were the same Jake has for you. He had the eyes of a father, even if it lasted only for a moment. Spider and his mouth,” she mumbled in a bitter laugh. “That’s the only way I can keep my wits, knowing that my brother is in his hands.” 

Brother, he didn’t know she had a brother. But thinking about it, he made a brief connection to the human boy the Sully siblings often mentioned, and everything became tremendously obvious. Ao'nung wondered about the number of others who shared their situation. Terrestrial children born on Pandora. Normally, that would have made his skin crawl, but not today. Not as he eyed Celeste.

“We'll set him free," Kiri said with the sweetest of smiles adorning her face in a purple blush. Her gaze lost in emptiness as expert fingers danced over the fragile scalp of the girl sitting in front of her, intent on sorting the top section of her hair into soft braids and joining them in a single one. The remaining locks fell in graceful waves over her shoulders and around the small of her waist. Celeste snorted sourly, "When? When will your father decide to stop burying his head in the sand?" Her friend’s hands froze as she winced at the viciousness of those words, at the suffering that flowed from the rigidity of her posture. Her expression, once infused with tender hopefulness, now radiated immense sadness. Kiri knew deep in her heart that her parents would do nothing to take Spider back. Neytiri despised them as humans and Jake… Well, Jake felt pity for the Socorro twins, he saw himself in them. Having them around was like reliving the half-life he had before he became Omatikaya. A feeling for which he would give anything to never have to face it again, to bury it along with his past. Because, in a way, he felt like he had stolen the serenity he now had. From Tsu'tey. From Grace.

From Tommy.

They’d all lost their life for him to gain something instead. He’d gained a home, a mate, a family. Enough for him to no longer be invulnerable. If once he had nothing to lose, now he had everything to lose. He would do anything, make any gesture to safeguard what was his greatest strength, but above all, his greatest weakness.

Even sacrifice an innocent kid.

"Cel-" “No, don’t make up excuses for them. Don't insult me by saying they're waiting for the perfect moment to rescue him. They ain't gonna do that. As long as Quaritch doesn’t pull enough strings to force your parents out, no one will do anything.” Celeste’s eyes burned like glowing embers as she stared into Kiri’s liquid amber ones. Sorry to bring this up. I hoped our reunion would be better. The joy of seeing you again, my BFF, my sis, lingered with me. But… you bailed on us and left us to face the RDA alone.  The Omatikaya are standing up to defend the rainforest. The Timpani are their allies now, and the Tawkami are helping with the injured. All this while you were here checking out the sights, learning the way of a new clan. But, as soon as you needed us, you remembered the ones you left to die.” Kiri knew her friend was right to be resentful, to feel wronged, that her heart was bleeding in terror over her brother’s plight, but now she was being unfair. ”Did you think we asked for this? Hiding among strangers? We lost everything. Our home, our people, our status. We don’t belong anywhere, we just have ourselves.”

However distorted by the mask, Celeste’s expression was all too eloquent. She knew way too well what it felt like to be at the extremes of a stray cat. “It’s always about you, huh? But we're talking about Spider here. Quit whining about how much you miss him, moony-eyed whenever you talk about him. When Neytiri decided to leave him behind, you didn’t fight back. You didn't protest when Jake said it was too risky to go back for him.” “Why did you?” “With Neteyam holding me back! A fully grown male Na’vi clutching a small human girl as if I were a viperwolf puppy? What could I have done? Tell me.” Kiri couldn’t answer. “Exactly. Nothing. I am powerless before you.” The tawtute woman stood up toward the entrance furiously, but just as she was about to cross the threshold, she turned one last time to implant her shining, weeping eyes on her dear friend. It's scary to think what they're doing to him. They’re probably brainwashing him with nonsense. The more he stays with them, the more they drive him away from us. Spider's heart is tough, but we Sky People can be corrupted in a jiffy. Especially when they know how to get under our skin and give us a sense of belonging. When on the other side, they have our father.” “Nash and Mary are your parents. Norm, Max. We are your family!” “This is right if you leverage on logic. But let's be real, when has logic ever worked?” A heavy sigh lightened her lungs. “Sorry if I’m dumping it all on you. You have nothin’ to do with it, you have no fault except lovin’ him as much as I do.”

Maybe even more.

“It’s just—.” The tremor in her voice prevented her from finishing the sentence, but the meaning was painfully clear. Celeste was worried about Spider. She was terrified. “We lost him. Even if he manages to come back to us, he will never be what he used to be.”

Perhaps following her hadn't been the smartest choice. They hardly knew each other, and this sudden concern of his was undoubtedly misplaced. Why would she, a human, want to open up to him, of all people? The Metkayina prince, who had never had the courtesy to hide his dislike for her people. Who had never reserved a kind word for the Sullys, let alone for an abandoned little human girl like her.

There was the risk she would misinterpret his intentions — Lo’ak had warned her about him. At worst, she would take him for a creep. But he just couldn't help himself. The way she had come out of the marui, the scowl on her face, plain to see despite the stark reflection of the sun on her mask, and her hunched shoulders. Everything about her, whether it was her warm smile as she played with Tuk, the dedication with which she analyzed every new thing that came her way. Even the misery that filled those intense dark eyes, now flickering with tears, drew him in.

Celeste sat on the seashore. The heavy combat boots, which seemed to have seen better days, had been tossed to her right side as now the waves' soothing motion caressed her feet. Her toes fiddled with the sand while her gaze wandered to the horizon. The gentle breeze from the ocean tousled her half-leaved braids, dragging with it the distant calls of animals.

Ao’nung stood dumbfounded behind a palm tree, trying to gather the courage to approach her. What could he have said to her? It’s not like he could just show up and sit next to her, engaging in who knows what sort of conversation. Up to that point, they had hardly spoken to each other, leaving out forms of convenience. The guy wasn’t Lo’ak or Neteyam. He wasn’t someone familiar enough to even just sit beside her in silence, for his presence would be comforting to her. Nor did he own that innate coolness and likability Rotxo had. Maybe it would be the girl herself who would come to him.

“Don't bother taunting me now that there's no audience. I'm not in the mood for your immaturity.”

Well, roughly. At least it could be considered an icebreaker.

“I don’t plan on messing with you.” "Stalking must be a habit of yours, then.” That had taken him by surprise. He was convinced she hadn't noticed, but the girl had read right through him. She was more receptive and aware of her surroundings than he imagined. And to say that Ao'nung had even been careful to cover his tracks. “I remind you I grew up in the middle of the forest. It’s called mere survival,” she stated as if she had read his mind. “You’re just an open book,” confusion painted on his face (he didn’t know what a book was), “You’re very expressive, it’s easy to catch what you’re thinking.”  “Is that so?” commented in a whisper as he took a seat to her left. “It explains a lot of things.” “If you’re not here to torment me, what brings you here?”. “We started off on the wrong foot.” “That’s an understatement.” “I expected Lo’ak to tell you about how I behaved when they arrived. About the incident at Three Brother Rocks.” “Another euphemism. Anyway, I didn’t need to be updated on the hard time he had here with all of you. I was prepared for what was going to happen. I don’t blame you, you know? Probably if the roles were reversed, we humans would have done the same thing. It’s only natural to fear the difference, especially when they have done little to show their good side. But if you’re trying to apologize, it’s not me you have to ask.” “If it’s all right with you, I would simply like to sit here. We don’t have to talk.” She sketched a smile. “Something tells me that even if I told you I’d rather be alone, you’d still stay.” Ao’nung seemed to weigh his next words, although an eloquent smirk was making its way onto his lips already. “This is still my island. No one can tell me to leave.” “The island of your clan.” “Indeed.” “The Metkayina have so many islands, I’m sure the next chief can go wherever he wishes.” “I suppose so, but this future chief wishes to be here,” he deftly twisted her words, a hint of sarcasm dirtying his voice. “Of all the territories of my people, this beach is my favorite. It’s secluded, hardly anyone ever comes here. It’s not a suitable spot for fishing, perfect if you’re looking for solitude and a place to empty your mind.” “It’s your safe haven, then. My bad if I took it from you, I didn’t mean to.” She made to leave, but Ao’nung stopped her. The grip on her hand was incredibly light, cautious, almost caring. “I don’t mind sharing it with you.”

“Despite growing up among you, I am always surprised how different the concept of personal space is between humans and Na’vi.” “Are we intrusive?” he chuckled. “You touch quite a bit! Especially the hair,” she gave him an elusive smile. “To braid each other’s hair is a way of strengthening bonds. We take care of one other.” “On Earth, we call it grooming. it’s a socialization technique.” “What I said.” Celeste was careful to add that specialists used this term to describe behaviors observed in the animal kingdom. Although they also fall under it, people dislike to be compared to animals, and the Na’vi were no exception.

Styling her hair had become a routine since they had established that uncanny friendship. If it could be called that. Celeste wouldn’t have been sure where to place it, really. So many were the unspoken things between them. Talks that couldn’t be addressed without prodding the touchy attitude of one or the other. She felt a strange sensation in her stomach from the occasional intense glances. As if her insides were all of a sudden twisting around, tearing her breath away.

Although they had not put up posters, it was pretty obvious that Celeste was getting close to someone local. People began asking questions. 

As if catching them together frequently wasn’t already a blatant response.

So many minor details that make up a bigger picture. Starting with the very braids and nacre pearls that adorned the girl’s hair, in a style that differed altogether from Omatikaya customs. And ending with the perpetual jubilation that seemed to have taken the place of severity over Ao’nung’s face. This one aspect clearly demonstrated that something was happening between them.  The attitudinal shift was way too remarkable. He was no longer so grumpy or difficult to deal with. He now seemed to have grown accustomed to the human presence in the village, even paying daily visits to the lab, driven by curiosity and eagerness to learn. His interactions with Sky People were nearly quotidian, so much so that he had adopted some English terms into his linguistic repertoire. A language he was picking up incredibly fast and had become common ground with the Sully siblings. They had yet to reach a point where they could call each other friends, but it was a step in the right direction. Who knew it would take the influence of a tawtute girl for them to establish a truce.

In any case, this had not been enough for Neteyam and Lo’ak to stop keeping an eye on her, still weirded out by that unexpected connection with such an asshole — somebody who seemed to show his genuine side only to her. They didn’t trust him fully, although he had shown he respected her and was the sole one able to bring a sincere smile back to her beautiful face.

They were her brothers after all. Their duty was to protect her.

As the man traced an intricate weave of braids starting at the crown of her head and extending a little further back anchored by bright blue beads from Nom’s Delight, Celeste didn’t miss the opportunity to tease him. “You’re better than I thought at this,” she said, observing the effort he was putting into it through a hand mirror. “When you have a sister, you are forced to learn.” “You’re the one who makes her look so fabulous with those hairstyles. I thought was your mother doing.” “She would like to, but she’s got no time. So...” “You act like it bugs you, but deep down you love doing it for her.” No response other than a resounding snort and an eye roll that did not escape the mirror. “it’s nice. It’s your way of showing her your love.” “I guess we all end up succumbing to our sisters in one way or another.” She chuckled, “I assume so.” A sudden veil of sadness darkened her eyes, although the shadow of an affectionate smile lingered on her rosy lips.

“And... how are things? Got used to the reef yet? You have met no one like us before.” The sudden change of subject served as a clear distraction from thinking about Spider. But, however poorly, it succeeded as an attempt, Celeste was still grateful to him. “To be honest, I saw pictures of you. I already had an idea of what you looked like. Yet seeing you in person is a whole other thing.” She was staring at him. “May I?” she asked, extending her hand toward the stake on his arm. Celeste was surprised at the hard but flexible texture. She had imagined it cartilaginous, but there was clearly a muscular structure underneath the fin-like membrane. She traced the entire outline of the excrescence. From the elbow to the wrist and then along the back of the hand where the pinky finger started, which appeared far more robust than the Na’vi of the forests. Like the rest of their frame. Taking advantage of her own petite figure, the girl wedged herself under his arm so she could analyze his back muscles. Defined and prominent, they followed the line of a chunkier ribcage.  If the Omatikaya sternum had always seemed pronounced, the Metkayina’s was bulky.

Ao’nung trembled under the imperceptible touch of her fingers as they came down to graze the base of his solid tail, and he blushed. A violet-pinkish tint colored his nose and cheekbones, making the azure of his eyes even more vivid. He had to hold his breath as he turned just enough to hide his face.  In vain. “I’m sorry. I went too far. It’s a susceptible spot, isn’t it?” "It's all good," he shrugged and shook his head. "Hey, fun fact, humans used to have tails," she said with a chuckle and a hint of guilt. As if it were an attempt to make it up to him. “Well, it wasn’t really a “tail” per se. It was more of an appendage. 25 million years ago, this mutation happened. It left only a handful of caudal vertebrae to form the coccyx.” Ao’nung stared at her raptly. Although he didn’t understand a significant part of what she said (too many specific English terms were mixed in with the Na’vi), it fascinated him to hear her talk about such distant and complicated topics. “Believe it or not, we have a small tail when we're embryos that eventually merges with our spine.” “I can’t picture you with a tail.” ”Me neither. A human with a tail,” she laughed. “I’ve heard of rare cases of babies being born with a tiny stump, but it is removed.” The boy scratched his throat, another slight blush clouding his cheeks. “Which one do you like best?” “Hmm?” The way she tilted her head doubtfully was tremendously adorable. “Which kind of tail do you prefer? Ours or the forest people’s?” The girl took her chin between her teeny tiny fingers. “Actually, never crossed my mind. I didn’t really consider how it looks, just how well it adapts to the environment. You Na’vi are built differently than us humans, with a physical differentiation that we do not have. Nor do other species that lived on Earth, as far as I know, with rare exceptions.”

Like dogs, she restrained herself from saying that. Celeste supposed he wouldn’t like being compared to a pet, in scientific terms or not. "But if I had to pick, I guess yours is more unique. To the forest natives I am used to, though, so���” The answer he received did not meet his expectations, yet it sufficed for Ao'nung's pride. In its own way, it was equivalent to being told he was better looking than Lo’ak or Neteyam. Or whatever other male there was in the Omatikaya clan.

“Want to check out anything else? Dunno, the stripes or the nictitating membrane. But I gotta submerge my head for that one or it won’t come out.” He said the last sentence in a pensive tone. “There is one thing I would like to look at. That's not really a physical trait, it's more of a cultural thing.” “What is it?” “Your tattoo.”  Not waiting for an answer, she took his arm between both hands, running her gaze over the elaborate tribal pattern that dyed much of his arm black. From the wrist to the deltoid, and a small portion of the trapezius and pectoral. Segments, waves, and stick figures that showed achievement, status, and social position. Each addition was a rite of passage, a goal attained, and his role in the clan. The art of tattooing was a widespread practice. All tattoos were considered a gift from both Eywa and the clan. They were unique and told the story of the individual’s life. In particular, arm tattoos represented the more exposed protective shield of the seawall, meant to protect the Metkayina from dangerous wildlife lurking within their oceans. Thus a hunter, a warrior, somebody strong who could provide for the clan. "This one's more pigmented," Celeste noted. “It’s recent. It symbolizes the secure embrace of the central island. Someday, I'm gonna be the olo'eyktan. I'll be responsible for looking after my people, both inside and out, keeping them safe and leading them.” Absentmindedly, she traced the outlines of the design imprinted at hip level and outlining the pelvis, causing him a shiver that she pretended to ignore.

“You know, how I learned about Metkayina is kinda funny.” The sentence sounded totally random, but it still aroused his interest. The Socorro twins weren’t the sole human children born on Pandora; others had preceded them during the first colonization attempt. They were the fruit of unlikely loves and irrepressible passions that took place on sleepless nights at headquarters. Where the risk of accidental death and the fear that they had not really lived took over, silencing all appropriate doubts. All those children were grown up enough to survive cryo, unlike Spider and Celeste. But although they had left Pandora, a trace of them remained.; a legacy from when the base still communicated regularly with planet Earth. Cartoons. Of them all, the little girl’s favorite was the Little Mermaid. A veritable obsession, Spider and Lo’ak would complain, earning a tugged smile from Neteyam and a frown from the child herself, for, from that moment on, legends about mermaids became her main interest.

“It is uncertain they exist, but here on Pandora there is a sea folk who are close to them.”

"As foolish as it may sounds, when I was growing up I wanted to find one.” Ao'nung let out an amused snort. “Silly, isn't it? They are an Earth legend, it's impossible to find them here on Pandora. Yet, the thing I wanted most in the world was to see one. Even if only from a distance. When Jake would take us to play near the coast, I would always stare out to sea, hoping to catch a glint of the sun bouncing off the scales. After all, what could have been more extraordinary than a fish-tailed human who could breathe underwater. It gave me an inexplicable sense of freedom, hope. I guess I wanted to be one of them to escape the reality of being born in the most inhospitable place possible for my species. A child who belonged to nothing and no one, confined behind a mask. You know, it was right around that time that I first heard about you. From Norm." "Norm?" "The scientist I came here with." The boy's lips drew a silent O. "Norm showed me documents about you, explaining your communion with the sea. How your bodies had adapted to swimming and apnea.”

"Like mermaids!" She commented ecstatically, with childlike wonder in her big brown eyes. Norm laughed, "Something like that.”

"I think you are the closest thing to a siren. Or a sea monster." He attempted with a sly expression to which the man replied with a smile and a quick shake of his head."From the way you describe them, there are female specimens." "On no, there are also tritons, their male counterparts. They just aren't mentioned often in fairy tales. In the past on Earth, role diversification was very pronounced between men and women. The latter were discriminated against to the point that they weren’t allowed so many things, including traveling by sea. Women aboard ships were said to bring bad luck." Ao'nung's disgusted expression said a lot about his opinion on the subject, Humans really are that stupid. Yet, he didn’t utter a word, preferring to keep listening. "Since legend has it that the people of the sea feed on human flesh-and the only seafaring people at that time were men-they were described as women of rare beauty and a bewitching voice. By singing they hypnotized sailors who, dragged underwater, drowned."

"You tawtute have interesting stories," he said dangerously close to her face in a melodious voice. "Sorry to disappoint you, but my legs do not turn into fishtails in the water, and my voice has no such power," he smiled cunningly, and Celeste was tempted to deny that last statement. "I do confirm, though, that I have a taste for human flesh. I could eat you in one mouthful."

Her heart lost a beat. The allussiveness at the bottom of his eyes made them a very dark shade, of the usual vibrant blue there was hardly a trace left. Ao'nung wanted her. Here and now. On that same beach that 

had been more often than she could count witness to their growing closeness. More than she wanted to admit. She would be lying if she claimed not to have noticed how the Na'vi looked at her, with a fondeness she was not used to. How his hands rested that extra moment on her. Perfect reflections of the behavior she also displayed toward him, unable to restrain herself. That candor was disarming though, totally unsuspected.

They weren’t just friends, that was evident by now.

But as she searched for something to say that was not unintelligible babble, he did something even more surprising. Gently he pulled Celeste onto his lap, with one hand encircling her back, and the other tilting her neck back just enough to bring her face close to his. And slowly, without ever looking away, he rested his forehead against the glass of the mask. He closed his eyes, inhaled and finally placed his lips against the surface. Parochial in the face, at first the girl did not know what to do, yet a little encouragement — Ao'nung's fingers pressing a little more on the nape of her neck — was enough to induce her to approach the glass. It was weird to describe what she felt. Despite the barrier, on the other side she felt the pressure of Ao'nung's kiss, his lips molding against the smooth surface.

Their first kiss. Just as strange as them.

She sensed him smiling against her lips as he returned the kiss. He sank his face into her neck and, for a long moment, the two just breathed, reveling in each other's warmth. After the gentle start, her fingers slid over his ankle and up his calf, then over the knee that brushed against his pelvis. Certain that no one would find them there, what was left of Celeste's clothes scattered across the sand. Believe it or not, Ao’nung was the sweetest man in the world in bed, cuddling her by whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Their bodies rocked together as they listened to the creaking of palm trees and the rustle of the sea sliding against the shoreline. And she melted in his strong arms, malleable as clay. There was something indescribable in the mischief that shone through his eyes, soon replaced by impatience as he laid her on the ground. Celeste shivered as he positioned himself between her legs. The coils of her stomach tensed as he brought her shins to the sides of his head and anchored himself to her thighs. It was very tender and affectionate the way he caressed her, "Don't hide from me." Slowly she opened her legs, allowing a glimpse of the folds, wet and glistening. She yearned so much for him to touch her, but even without speaking Ao'nung had already noticed, staring at her through impossibly black eyelashes. He slipped two fingers into his mouth, smeared them with saliva, and brought them back down to slide over her clitoris. Without warning he peeled back the fabric and pushed them inside, swirling them upward, and she gasped. He removed his fingers only to put them back in her mouth and swirled his tongue around to taste some of her flavors. He kept his eyes on her as he emitted a little mumbling around his phalanges, his 

smile was salacious, "Tasty." She was about to say his name when he lifted that last flap of fiber between them and purred. A small smile pressed against his knee pleased by such surrender. He kissed him softly, languidly, but when he dragged. his lips over her inner thigh, his voice was dangerously excited, "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this." She was breathing heavily, absolutely humiliated to be there, with her legs spread apart and her vulva squished in the face of the raven-haired man who seemed so eager to have that perfect face splattered with her. On the beach to boot. Ao'nung leaned forward, arms firmly hooked at her knees to block her movements, "Let me know when you're about to come," for a handful of fleeting seconds she let her heavenly smile return. He watched her features, savoring every single expression as she turned into a disaster of sobs and gasps, "I want to eat you.” Jaws teasing the elastic skin, tongue titillating her clitoris, phalanges rhythmically violating her, reveling in the way her heels tapped on his massive shoulders, how her back arched in unnatural poses. As his fingers churned in circular motions to stimulate that much sought-after spongy pad, she felt mounting inside her the nagging sensation of having to go to the bathroom, just at that crucial moment. She tightened her pelvic muscles. "A-ao'nung... s-stop… I have to p—" "It's squirt," quivered the man's voice, one corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other, staring at her so haughtily, so victoriously, "Relax, let go," he hissed.

"N-no, please, I'm not comfortable." "Making people uncomfortable is what I do best." He wanted a show. That sentence seemed to cast a spell on her, because with another hit, she felt something thicken in her pit, she clung to the boy's hair, "I can't hold it anymore!" The man lifted his fingers and, before she could lament the loss, replaced them with the tip of his tongue. His wet fingertips held her widened opening, diving between her thighs to devour her in a way that made her gasp and tug at her dark locks, "God, Nung... I'm going to...," escaped her by closing her knees around his head. Ao'nung growled upon hearing that new nickname as he lapped at every crevice between her walls. The tip of his nose brushed against her spongy nub continually, but only when he moaned did he decide to gather it between his lips, sucking it greedily; the same with which he moistened them when the spray hit him. The final stimulation he needed to climax. "At last," he exclaimed panting as he ravenously cleansed her. She felt the viscosity of her own arousal sticking in her inner-thigh where Ao'nung's moist cheeks brushed against her. She was stunned, breathless and exhausted as he rolled onto his back and laid Celeste on his chest. A proud smile colored his face. He stroked her chin, relieved to look him straight in the eye, those sharp, criminal eyes, and haphazardly dusted the grains of sand from her hair and later from her body.

Blissing in the warmth of the sun, the tenderness of his embrace, and the comfort of his heart, Celeste snuggled against his chest, closed her eyelids, and dozed off. A soft smile adorned her lips.

In Ao'nung's arms, she was finally home.

For the tattoo description I took inspiration from this AMAZING picture, created by the indescribably talented @cinetrix

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

[sunboki]

— START TO FINISH a Han Jisung fiction

🧸 : Han Jisung x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. enemies to lovers, forced friendship, friends to lovers, angst, fluff

WORD COUNT. 6.2k ☆ 31 minute read

WARNINGS. lots of cursing, underage drinking(reader & han are 18, legal drinking age in korea is 19), making up, reader punches someone

AUG'S NOTES. i know i know, after so long the fic is finally here!(thank goodness) and i just remembered how @geneziesm was excited for this back in.. february?? so apologies for the wait sweetness, hope you don’t mind that i changed our love interest from changbin to jisung :’) btw, the cabin they’re staying in looks like this

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. From start to finish. That’s how you ended things with Han Jisung, starting with your fist balled up and ending with a slam right to his cheek. Or so you hoped. “I mean, they’re just kids, what could they do?” Was what both of your parents said as they spoke over the phone without you knowing. Without either of you knowing you learned later on, luggage in hand as you stared at the dangling road sign beside the cabin’s entrance. Gangwon Cabin, the place you’d be occupying with Han Jisung, your mortal enemy, for two months. It could be worse.. right? No. This was the worst it could be.

or alternatively :

Two months ago you were certain you’d hate Han Jisung forever, but what about now?

You’re. Fucking. Kidding me.

"You take one step into this room and I cut off every limb attached to your body, understood?" Is what you hissed at the boy who looked too smug standing in front of you.

"Awe, aren’t you just the sweetest?"

"Better yet, I could cut off your tongue."

"The more the merrier." He stuck out his tongue connivingly, earning a hard slam of the door right in the face.

You don’t care if you have to slam that door a billion more times to escape from him, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

Your only priority for these two months? Avoid Han Jisung at all costs.

Han Jisung is the boy that ate sand as a kid. You’re sure of it.

You’ve convinced yourself he somehow ate enough sand to where it creeped up into his brain and made him into a complete asshole for the rest of his life. A shame, really.

You didn’t know if that was true or not —though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was— but the theory served as a decent explanation of why he acted like an absolute piece of shit… For the most part.

Honestly, the hatred was sort of mutual. If you define mutual as in unspoken glares across the classroom and his malice-filled smile glittering right back at you, then yeah, mutual.

Starting from the moment you stepped into Mr. Jeong’s class and took your seat beside him, a blazing electric bolt strung itself between you two. And despite being unsure why, the bolt grew stronger without sign of stopping, alighting hatred and dislike.

Was it fair carrying the burning grudge? Not at all, but if Han Jisung kept egging you on like he always did, it would stay that way.

Except what was once anger noticed by only you quickly escalated into heated, gas-lit arguments the entire school heard—because Han Jisung found the perfect timing every time. Heavy on the sarcasm.

Best example? You had utterly bombed your chemistry midterm, one you tirelessly studied for as well when a shadow loomed over your desk belonging to none other than the Devil’s offspring himself (if you guessed anyone other than Han Jisung, you’re dead wrong).

"I wouldn’t recommend crying in class, but that grade is pretty shitty so if you need a shoulder, I've gotcha sweetheart." He cockily pats his shoulder while sending you a wink, and you couldn’t believe someone would so blatantly ask for a broken nose, yet here you are.

Trust that your list of reasons to plan a burial for the seat-mate goes on as long as you breathe.

And apparently, whatever chemical reaction you’d fucked up during the exam turned out to be highly explosive on a Friday afternoon, unfortunately without the addition of Han’s broken nose. You were close though.

That day he picked. Picked and picked and picked enough that your fist found itself smashed against his jaw, the boy’s hand immediately coming up to shield the wound. Instantaneously, the classroom became noiseless apart from the sound of blood pumping in your ears and Jisung’s heavy breathing.

"Han Jisung, Ln Yn, go to the office. Now!" Mr. Jeong called from the doorway, noticeably out of breath from his brambled hair and glasses askew upon his nose.

The customary lecture about how you should "never resort to violence" was nothing new for the both of you, Counselor Kim’s furious tapping of her foot reflecting the glare she burned your way. From the other side of the room Han sat on the patient-bed, a bandage sized to his cheek covering where you’d unapologetically swung all your frustration. You had zero remorse and would continue to have zero remorse. Forever.

"For the love of god what are you two standing there for?! Apologize. This. Instant!" And with the final crack in her flaming attitude she stomped out the door, fanatically shaking her head with dismay.

Ravaging every advantage, you sauntered towards the boy, releasing a heavy sigh just to announce your 'sincerity' first and foremost. Now was prime time to sugar him up, and you’d be sure not to take it for granted.

Stepping forward, you lift your head to deliver a faux smile.

"I’m so sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you leading up to this, especially after punching you in a spot that won’t heal for a long time because you never deserved that and most definitely did nothing wrong." Delighted to finally be pushing his buttons just as he did yours, you plaster the most guilty expression you can manage, voice dripping with lies.

Jisung breathes a rather bored sigh.

"Nice try."

Geesh, he’s exasperating. Take a hit for once, why don’t you.

"You want me to pray for your forgiveness or what?" Managing to omit the derogatory nickname attached to your sentence, you spare a hasty glance at Ms. Choi, the nurse who every other male at the school had a crush on. She types into her laptop at an alarming pace—fortunately either ignoring or oblivious to your brewing cat-fight.

The boredom appears to leave him instantly for a reason you couldn’t guess. Regardless, you knew it meant bad news.

Exasperating. He is unbearably exasperating.

"'Didn’t think you were that in love with me, but no. I want you to give me a kiss," Using the hand he’d previously ran through his hair, he pointed to his cheek. "Right here."

Is no one else hearing this? He’s not serious .. right? And why are your hands sweaty?

"Bullshit."

Aha, there’s the usual Oxford graduate vocabulary. Let’s hope Ms. Choi didn’t hear anything.

"Sadly. Worth a try though." Jisung deflates, swinging his legs around aimlessly. He’s daring from a point you can’t figure out. His inability to piss you off is easy to discover, but there’s something else there—a word your finger keeps skipping over.

Then suddenly, in the midst of observing your lost-in-thought expression, he piques with realization. By the time you notice, all your earlier remorse voluntarily throws itself out the window. Not that there was any remorse anyway. Definitely.

"Wait- don’t tell me you’re actually going to apologize, hold on I need to record this—"

"SHUT UP! I’m leaving, have a good evening Ms. Choi." The poor woman jumped out of her skin, shakily bowing farewell as you stormed from the infirmary, seething rage billowing out both ears.

Your walk home lasted much longer than usual, probably because you didn’t even want to step foot on the property; wanted to savor every moment of fresh air before seeing your parents in their fury glittering glory.

Unbeknownst to you, they’d already gotten the call—four hours ago, to be exact. Though you didn’t realize that’s how long you’d been procrastinating, and neither did Han Jisung, who was doing the same thing.

Except while you walked around killing time, he occupied a swing at the old neighborhood playground, humming a tune to himself.

So as you turned the corner, the last person you expected to be there was there, seeming quite aloof as he gazed off into the distance.

"What’re you doing?"

You swore he leaped a solid foot into the air, hand frantically clutched to his chest as if you were the doctor telling him he wasn’t allowed to jack off anymore.

"Jesus! You scared me. I should ask you the same thing," Han grumbled, lips pulled into a taut pout.

This momentary peacefulness, or whatever isn’t hostility occupying the space between you is gross considering you’d socked him mere hours earlier, still able to make out the light bruising scattered along his jaw.

You kick off some of the mulch lingering atop your shoelaces. "Procrastinating going home, you?"

Laughing bitterly, Han settles back into the swing. "I guess that’s something we can agree on," He says, causing you to sort of falter.

Sadness lingers in his tone and you can’t decipher it, not when your average Han Jisung would be rearing to tease you. Instead, he remains quiet enough that when your phone buzzes in your pocket, you flinch.

"I’ve gotta go. This is the eighteenth time she’s called, I wish I was joking." You breathe through your nose, staring at your mom’s number flickering atop the screen.

Why you even dismissed yourself you don’t know. It was Han Jisung, why did you bother? You should’ve acted spiteful and left him at that. But you couldn’t. Not when he seemed so.. miserable. You staved down the gnawing guilt.

"What color do you want to wear in your casket, I’ll be sure to tell your parents."

Well there goes any chance of being nice.

"I hate you," You automatically snarl, spewing those words as if they had no weight anymore.

Looks like everything is back to normal, for now.

Currently standing at the doorstep, you thought back to all the excuses you’d used in the past and which one seemed suitable this time around. Which one would, hopefully, secure your life for another day.

There’s the truly heroic "he was insulting you guys! Saying you didn’t raise me right!" that would earn a bit of sympathy, or maybe you could even go bigger and say he was threatening to rob you and— the door opened. Shit.

"Come in! Tell me about your day at school." Your mother, strangely enough, smiled.

Okay. What the fuck is going on. Where’s the berating and disowning threat, seriously.

"Aren’t you mad?" You skittishly ask, only receiving a swift jerk of her head signaling for you to come in.

Hence, you tentatively, like an ax would strike you at any moment, obediently tip-toe into the living room, glancing around cautiously.

She finds her spot on the couch beside your dad and you nonchalantly shift a good distance from the two, just to be safe.

Who knows, perhaps they’d planned collaborative man-slaughter.

"Oh no, we’re livid, but we talked about it and have a fantastic idea that we’re sure will help!" Help what, you’re not sure. All you know is that this cannot possibly end well. 

Your ungodly hour wake up was the first unfortunate event, basically being shoved into the car to who knows where and before you knew it, the sunlight illuminating the road in front of you became shrouded with shadows of tall alpines looming overhead. They spared no hint as to what their "fantastic idea" was yesterday, so the jury ruling your case as a third-degree murder was only something you could wonder from the backseat. Something you could wonder for a long, long time.

Thankfully, decades later, the vehicle eventually came to a halt and your parents wasted no time shoving you just as easily as they did into the car, outside of the car. Adjusting to the brightness, you find yourself facing a building only definable as a cabin from the wooden exterior and forest surroundings.

A creative collaborative homicide, definitely.

"We’re here~" Your mom calls from the passenger seat, helping unload stuffed suitcases from the trunk.

Suitcases. Lovely.

Alright, staying here for a while doesn’t sound too bad aside from the feeding yourself part. Yogiyo Food Delivery could find their way here, surely. You’d just have to give a generous tip, that’s all.

Clapping her hands together a little too excitedly, the woman pats your shoulder, gesturing to the abundant amount of luggage your dad heaved to the entrance, or wherever the rickety door leads.

Hold on, whose car is that parked beside yours?

Almost like she read your mind, her brows lift cartoonishly as you follow the click of a car door opening in unison.

"Oh! Right! Now we wanted to make sure this would be beneficial for both of you, so we invited Han’s parents to have him stay with you for these two months!"

Haha.

You’re dreaming. This is all a dream. Because Han Jisung did not just get out of that Kia, and she did not just say two months.

Automatically, your hands fly into the air, willing to battle your way out of this one if that’s what it takes.

"You’re leaving me here? Are you serious-what’re you-Hey! Don’t drive away!" Before you can open your mouth the two cars back out of the dirt road without so much as a goodbye to the children they’d utterly abandoned, might you add the children that wanted nothing more than to bury each other a day ago.

And so, the two months of summer hell began.

..Albeit, out of all your troubles, the scenery wasn’t too hellish opposed to the internal screaming echoing around your skull.

Instead, serene, comfortable sound consumed the wilderness surrounding the cabin, filling your ears with the hum of evening birdsong and water trickling from the river below. At least that part was tolerable.

You perch on the edge of the railing and listen, trying to distract yourself from your mind for a moment—allowing you to bask in a billion thoughts you wished to drown out.

Han had already gone inside without even a hello (not that you expected one), seeming to feel the same amount of hopelessness as you did after hearing your fate. Peaceful, until the creaking patio door opening rips every inch of calmness right out of your grasp.

"The view is nice, isn’t it."

Stop it. Stop talking like we’re friends. It’s not normal. We are not normal.

The sensible part of your mind tells you this is how people that don’t go for the throat talk, but you can’t convince yourself to communicate like that. Not with your history, not now.

"Nice without you interrupting me." Your grip tightened on the fence supporting you, refusing to even spare him a glance in fear of watching disappointment flood his frontal. You’d stab a stake through your chest before succumbing to him, before sympathizing his feelings.

"I’m going inside," you mouth, quickly slipping past him through the half-open door without another word.

Unforgiving. You are both very unforgiving. Or maybe it’s you, unable to forget about your grievances, unable to let go. For a second—closing the door behind you—you fear you’ll never be able to let go.

Radio silence inhabits the aged home, and you both hurry off to separate sides to digest everything’s awfulness in your own, unique ways. Han resorts to strumming the acoustic guitar he’d stuffed in his bag before leaving Seoul, and you, well, you cope, furiously pacing the room until exhaustion overtakes your limbs and you pitifully flop onto the floor.

The suitcases will have to rot outside tonight because leaving this spot, no less passing by the living area, meant Han Jisung exposure, the last thing your sour mood needed. You rationalize—you really do—but fleeting thoughts and whatever keeps itching your leg steal your chance of thinking positively.

Wait.

Alternatively, during what he assumes to be your sulking-about-how-life-isn’t-fair session, Han’s daily mug of coffee (the one he’d missed out on due to being forced up at the asscrack of dawn) was cut short thanks to a shrill scream. He hurriedly placed his beverage on the counter, racing to where you stood glued to the wall of the hallway, finger shakily pointing to a bug crawling along the floor.

Mischievously, Han crossed his arms over his chest, surveying the chaos that could ensue with a simple request. This was already off to a great start.

Why not get his fair share? Toying with you was way too fun after all.

"Y’know, there’s a great way to deal with this." He takes his last swig of caffeine while you basically crawl into your skin, impossibly backing up further from the skittering insect.

"And what would that be?"

Rookie mistake. He can tell you’re aware of exactly what he’s going to say next, already two steps behind him before you realize you can do anything about it. What to choose, what to choose.

Then, Ding! A marvelous idea strikes.

"I’ve always imagined the nickname Sungie would sound cute coming from you," he sings, dreadful anticipation vividly apparent. He’s having a blast.

Wrinkling your nose, your glare radiates nothing but red-hot animosity, patience walking a thin wire. Han loves every bit of it.

"What the hell are you talking abou—"

"You might wanna say it, that beetle is getting closer," He says, voice laced with devilish intent.

Unfortunately for you, life and death were the only ways to get through this. Naturally, you leaned closer to choosing death for the sake of your reputation, but life had to be an asshole and shatter your ego into a billion tiny pieces last minute.

"FUCK- Sungie- kill it now!" You shout, releasing a very frustrated scream you’re certain could’ve topped Regina George’s.

Beneficial? She called this beneficial?

"I knew it’d be cute,” He snickered, instantly covering the god-forbidden demon with his empty cup and grinning up at you with crescent moon eyes as if he hadn’t brutally manipulated your terror seconds before.

You hate him. Hate him hate him hate him.

God. You wanted to cry.

. ..

Jisung would’ve loved to see your reaction if he caused a ruckus so early, but he was being nice this morning, carefully traveling around the kitchen island to fill his thermos with water when he dropped the metal bottle and the loudest, most blaring screech echoed around the entire house.

Truthfully, it was an accident. Truthfully.

You wouldn’t believe him.

Not even a minute later, low and behold, the adorable grumpiness identified as you peeked out from a blanket burrito, noticeably seething from your bedroom door.

"It’s five in the morning you lunatic, what is so important that you’re leaving at five in the morning," you grumble, instinctively pulling your blanket tighter when he approached.

"You really want me to stay with you that badly, honey? All you had to do was ask~" You tiredly push away his kissy face leering close, clad in pajamas and not quite awake enough to put up with him.

He twirls the keys, stopping to dramatically blow you a kiss in the process.

"'M going on a run, don’t miss me too much,” Jisung waved, and with the click of the door closing behind him, he’s gone to who knows where.

His cockiness makes you roll your eyes as you begin whipping up some form of breakfast to satiate your stomachs complaints, knowing your chances of going back to bed were slim to nothing due to being woken up so mercilessly.

If he dropped what sounded to be a iron pipe to wake you up, thinking about what his next "alarm clock" would be gives you goosebumps. Yep. No going back to sleep for you.

Except the minute hand ticks by, and what used to be a short run turns into an uneasy feeling by the time the third hour rolls around.

Three hours and twenty minutes.. Three hours and thirty minutes.. Three hours and forty minutes..

Screw it, you’ll go looking for him.

"Jisung? Jisung, where are you!" Your shouting has to have echoed around the entirety of Gangwon at this point, stopping to catch your breath on the side of the never ending dirt pathway. Miles and miles you scour, gradually reaching a bench covered by a willow tree where you slump down, enjoying the swift moment of rest.

What you hadn’t expected enjoying your much needed break was to find the exact boy you were searching for, lying fast asleep in the shade.

Covering your mouth to mute your gasp, a string of mumbled curses fall off your tongue as you get up from your spot and hesitantly approach the sleeping beauty.

Oh so slowly you sit down in the grass, paying attention not to make too much noise from the crunchy leaves.

"It’s not fair that you’re pretty even when napping," You mutter, infatuated by his mesmerizing looks that seem to glow in the minimal light emerald leaves reflect.

That is, before his eyelashes dust and you noisily rush to your feet, flushing pink at an alarming pace. The prince-like beings' cheeks puff, blinking rapidly to clear the sleepy haze.

"Huh? Y/n, when did you get here? You’re red; are you okay—"

"Yeah. C’mon." You speed-walked ahead despite Jisung calling out for you to slow down, terrified he’d seen you or, worse, heard the things you’d said.

He stalls to pick up something and you experimentally glance back, noting a green color visible through the plastic bag he held. What’s inside is only recognizable by the clinking of glass colliding together.

"Did.. did you- is that…" Words pour without making sense, squinting accusingly at the bit of a label you can see reading "Chum Churum Soju."

Your bewilderment keeps you planted to the ground, scrolling through your mental list of possibilities explaining why it couldn’t be alcohol. And suddenly you genuinely question if Han’s delinquency appeared outside of school as well.

Surely, because the smirk painting his features when he caught sight of your shocked expression left no room to wonder.

"Won't it be fun?" He shakes the bag. "We’re irresponsible highschoolers anyways, and the grandma working there said it has the best flavor this time of year."

So that’s how he managed to get by without an ID. Of course.

Problem? One, you’re underage. Two, who knows if someone found out. Three, you had no goddamn clue what you were like drunk, and the last thing you wanted to happen was a detrimental mistake under the influence with Jisung. Everything about this foreshadowed disaster, how he couldn’t figure that part out was beyond you.

Or maybe he wanted disaster to strike, maybe it was all a part of his plan, the cherry on top to ruin your life permanently.

Yeah, you’re not letting even a drop enter your system.

"Aigoo— don’t cry," Han whines, obviously a bit tipsy, though compared to you who’s almost completely wasted (rocking back and forth while spilling nonsense to nobody in particular), he’s basically sober.

It was an accident, you swear. You couldn’t help it, he called you a coward and dared you to a drinking contest that put your precious pride on the line—leading into this shithole of a situation in the first place. Backing down meant ultimate defeat, and knowing you had at least three more weeks stuck here narrowed down the last option available.

"'M not crying asshat.." You sob, hand feebly hitting the table in a pitiful show of aggression. Your brain is fuzzy and everything feels so weird and dizzying. Then you feel it.

Oh no. Word vomit. You can’t stop it.

"I just don’t think it’s fair, Jisung," You blurt, Han blinking tiredly upon hearing his name. "You have such a pretty face for such an awful person."

You’re babbling now, blurily viewing multiple emotions unfold prior to opening his mouth. You guess in some way he heard what you said below the willow tree, even as a drunk confession.

"You.. You think I have a pretty face?" Though seconds after he finishes speaking you lean across the table to press your index against his lips, the boy’s eyes growing to the size of saucers.

"Shut uppp, I don’t wanna hear your voice, ever." Interrupting the question, you wobble to your feet, grip fumbling on the chilled door knob before blindly plowing into the room and collapsing on your mattress.

Meanwhile, Jisung attempts to stop you. Keyword: attempts. He does, almost there, and then the carpet trips him somehow (his own way of pretending he didn’t slip over nothing) and he’s kissing the floor, exhaustion immediately numbing his entire alcohol-ridden body till he succumbs to oh so welcoming sleep.

Gasping awake, a rampaging headache greets his skull, unevenly carrying himself to grab a barely there cup of water that’ll hopefully ease some tension. He assumes this must be a hangover, and man, it’s more of a pain than he thought.

The Jisung back in Seoul wouldn’t be able to fathom getting drunk at noon before ending up here, a place that was certainly not home. Well, the Jisung back in Seoul wouldn’t be able to fathom getting drunk at noon along with waking up on the floor, being stuck in this place with you, and an entire collection of things he couldn't name off the top of his head.

Being completely honest, he’s amazed he hadn’t slept the rest of the day and night after earlier, filled with crude small talk and stolen alcohol sipped from styrofoam cups. And you calling him pretty, that too.

Said styrofoam cups scatter in disarray all over the floor, evidence of how drunk you’d both got that painted quite an impressively messy picture.

There’s not much to see staring through the fogged window; Gangwon’s relentless humidity leading to a nearly impossible view of the lake outside. Though he doesn’t mind. In fact, knowing that no one can find him here, you and him, isn’t too bad. No teachers looming over him, nor were his parents reprimanding him for grades slightly below perfect.

Although in the midst of his headspace, a floorboard creaks exceptionally loud and you stand, rocking back and forth on your heels and gazing at him through half-lidded eyes he can’t quite read. What he distinctly spotted, however, was the smile casually gracing your lips. A dreamy, loopy smile that told him something wasn’t exactly normal.

"Sungie.."

Han cranes to hear what you say, bewildered by the nickname you swore to never utter. Were you still drunk? You had to be, or you wouldn’t have approached him with open arms like that to bury your head into his chest where he feared you’d hear his hammering heartbeat—frozen stiff as a board with your arms wrapped around him.

"Are.. are you still drunk?" Han timidly asks and you absentmindedly groan before your movement stops, the boy doing a double take in case you managed to pass out buried in his clothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he pulled you off of him, body curled in disgust due to the saliva staining his t-shirt where your face had been.

Yep. You had fully passed out while hugging him.

"Wow, how much did you have to drink again?" Laughing to himself, he struggles guiding you to the couch to sit down without stumbling over each other.

Propping a pillow behind your head, the boy hesitates, feeling a sort of déjà vu he can’t make sense of. Though quickly enough, he shakes off the phenomenon and begins raising up, but a softness threading through his fingers stops him in his tracks for a second time, and he has to blink multiple times to register what was happening.

Although appearing passed out still, your hand found its way to reach for his, holding onto his pinky so lightly, so carefully. The boy's heart pounded, collecting all of his self control to refrain from making decisions he'd regret.

"Stop. We can’t." Sentence trembling on his tongue, he steadily pulled away, nearly wincing when you shifted slightly.

You were only dreaming, you never would have done this if you were awake, he reminded himself, glancing back to where you lie once more as if you’d magically spring up and announce your undying love for him. Did he want that to happen? No, he’s just joking, just a joke. Right.

It hurts, he can’t name why.

He prays you don’t remember.

"Please tell me why it’s so freaking cold in the middle of July," You mumble to nobody, spotting your cell mate’s cabin mate’s backside crouched over the fire pit. What he busied himself doing you couldn't guess, unpredictably unpredictable.

Curiously, you shuffle to the window, observing the charcoal he added before flicking the lighter and setting the lumber ablaze, flames licking at the dark sky above. Starting at age ten you learned curiosity killed the cat, but never did you think it killed humans as well. That was, prior to Jisung noticing you watching him. Astonishingly, however, he motioned for you to come out, refraining from the average jerk behavior on this occasion.

Unpredictably unpredictable, like you said.

"Have you given up yet? Hating me, I mean." Appearing beside the lawn chair you had cozied into, he tossed a few additional branches into the brewing flames, dropping down to warm his hands. Apparently, you don’t remember. Only Jisung would realize that.

"You talk about it like it’s a choice." Stuffing your hands inside your coat pockets, you avoid him per routine. Confidence comes easier that way, especially with him—someone you’re weak for.

You’d never admit that.

"It’s not?"

Your tongue pokes at the flesh of your cheek, ticked.

"You don’t seem to understand the hell I go through every day I come to school. Han Jisung, you give me every reason to hate you," You state coldly, fists clenching and unclenching where he can’t see.

This argument is fearful. You both glare at anything but each other, turning away from mere face-to-face contact in fear you’d apologize. Jisung is always first to look, first to try understanding.

Those times are never noticed by you, someone who doesn’t give in.

"But we're not in school anymore; we’re free in a cabin in the middle of Gangwon. So could you at least pretend to not hate me?" He looks. Looks at each minuscule twitch of your mouth, the soft cupid's bow perfectly carving your lips. Han scolds himself. He gets lost in you sometimes, a habit. Times that he’s glad you avoid him, unlike now, desperately needing you to see.

"Pretend? Did you say pretend? You’re fucking insane thinking I can just pretend nothing has happened. You think I can walk away from all this like it’s nothing, because I'm nice and sweet and do anything for anybody? You’re heartless, Jisung."

The boy hastily clutched onto the sleeve of your puffer jacket as you got up, fanning flames revealing your broken expression.

You shakily inhale, tears unconsciously slipping down your cheeks. This is the last thing you wanted, to end up crying in front of him. But here you are, walls crumbling down.

"Stop trying to make us right when we’ll lead to a bad ending."

You tremble and his grip loosens automatically, lingering there.

"Look at me."

"Let me go."

"Look at me, please."

You foolishly look like he did. Look and note how deep the pools of dusky caramel dancing in his eyes are. Look and pinpoint the mole residing on the right side of his face, effortlessly close to pretty pink lips. Look and admire the sweet curve of his eyes complimented by the shape of his brows, furrowed with sadness that match the tone you’d heard that day you found him on the swing.

You curse your hiccuping, delving into the softness of his palm while his thumb delicately swipes your tears. He’s warm. Han Jisung, though you never thought you’d say it, is warm to the touch.

"We’re not leading to a bad ending, Y/n. You want a bad ending because of what I’ve done, so you can feel like your anger is justified. This is my fault, and I’ll take responsibility, so give me a chance to fix it and quit burdening yourself because of my mistakes, okay?" He tips his head, tenderly caressing the delicate tear-stained skin beneath your lower lashes.

Today, tonight, everything you ever believed about Han Jisung was proven wrong.

His perception and his kindness, which you didn’t even know existed, forged through the surface and tore your heart in halves. He’d revealed himself to you and in actuality, he always had; you just closed your eyes.

But today, tonight, he didn’t let you close them; he held them open to see him, see his apology, see his acceptance—and it gave you no choice but to comply, to nod your head and trust him, something you’d never done before.

You take a seat again, yet the stifling company isn't stifling anymore, and a sensation akin to relief floods the brisk air surrounding Gangwon cabin. He brings you tissues and you say thank you, it’s new. He smiles and you smile back, it’s new as well.

You’ve never liked things you were unfamiliar with, but this is okay.

For once, being around Han Jisung feels okay.

"..Did it hurt?"

He blinked, fixating you with a confused stare.

"When I punched you, did it hurt?"

Slowly, his mouth stretched into a grin, chuckling. That’s new too, you think you like it the most so far.

"Like a bitch."

. ..

You’d say your relationship evened out, not finding an incessant need to respond with something even nastier. It was weird at first, coexisting and all. Weird being so friendly, despite the annoying banter paying occasional visits.

Better, better this way.

The moon rose up high in the sky only to settle, and you’d periodically climb to the top of the house in a way Jisung had taught you, hand placed on your back reassuringly as you climbed the cob-web infested windowsill up to the roof. You’d also say that gesture didn’t affect you. You lied.

Nonetheless, the rooftop "dates" helped you appreciate how bright and brilliant the twinkling balls of fire were after being pulled out here where artificial light is infinitely scarce compared to Seoul’s amusement park of electricity.

"That," Jisung points, finger drawing an imaginary line connecting specific stars lighting up the sky. "Is the constellation Cygnus, it’s Greek for swan. When I studied in Malaysia there was a great hill to stargaze, that’s where I learned about them."

You nod, savoring the otherworldly view paired with his voice.

Comfort. He’s comfortable telling you about himself. Your heart feels happy.

"I always thought Lyra and Cygnus would make a good couple," he says, beats of a silence passing before you burst into a fit of giggles, the boy raising up to lean on his elbow appearing quite offended.

A constellation? He thinks constellations would make good couples?

Han Jisung is full of surprises.

"Yah I’m serious! They’d be perfect together! It’d be romantic and sweet and— you’re mean." He whined playfully, suppressing his own laughter noticing how hard you were trying not to laugh.

Quietness, silence if you must, replaces the once child-like conversation. Not the I’m-counting-the-seconds-to-your-funeral type silence that occurred daily prior to your campfire crying/make-up session, but a calm silence.

"Could you imagine what the kids back home would say?" He breathes his words airily whilst admiring your eyes staring up at the sky—twinkling. To him, those eyes hold the galaxy in them. Eyes that weren’t introduced to him until recently, on a night he’s certain he’ll remember for the rest of his life.

"We’re not home, we’re free, like you said." You don’t glance at him and ironically, he can’t stop gazing at you. You move and he watches, enraptured by this. Whatever this may be.

Ah, he’s staring again. Lost in you again.

Abruptly, your dramatic sputtering successfully pulled his head out of the clouds, splatters of water began to dapple your once dry bodies. But as you prepare to ease down and go inside, he lightly grabs your wrist with a sweet look, convincing you, if only for a few minutes, to stay.

"You’re crazy, Jisung." You laugh, expression breaking into the most breathtaking beam Han had ever seen. If someone were to take a picture of Jisung right now, he’s certain his irises would be heart-shaped. And in that moment he swore he’d never fallen in love harder before. Falling in love he’d write about on pages of a journal, photograph with his polaroid back home. Falling in love soaked with rain on the roof of a cabin, stargazing without clocks to tell you what time it is.

You’re drenched, he’s soaked. He wants to kiss you, you want to kiss him. Then you remember you’re still learning this entire "normal people" concept and he’s supposed to tread carefully when it comes to you, but everything fits so well and your lips sort of connect and you can’t let go.

He wishes he could stay in this moment forever.

Your hands in his hair, his cupping your face, head tilted to gain easier access while leaning against his side. Endlessly close.

Han is like spring, like daffodils blooming their hidden colors deep in a field. You might get frustrated searching, but once you find and pluck the flower from long stalks of grass, its petals will shine eternally.

Rain is pouring, pelting his already messy overalls and leaving strands of ash blond stuck to his forehead, lips pulled so high up he can’t think straight.

He smiles and you do too and things feel right, righter than they had in a long time.

Young kids sure act stupid when you leave them alone for too long.

He wouldn’t take it back for the world.

.. .

"Ready to go?" Referring to the doorway, he waited for you by the door, brown hues carrying emotion you chose not to acknowledge.

"Yeah, um, get home safe and text me sometime, whenever you’re not busy, I mean." He nods a response, stupidly happy face earning your harmless scowl in the process of helping push your luggage through the door.

Different. Remarkably different from how things were before. Two months ago you would’ve hated this, hated anything to do with him.

Different, it was different now. Better, better this way, like during stargazing.

He turned left and you turned right, opposite directions towards where your parents stood, towards the cars that would travel far from here. You’d drive, drive and drive back to Seoul carrying new feelings and new conversation, new love.

And from a peculiar standpoint, Gangwon Cabin was your start to finish with Han Jisung. Starting with a punch to the face and ending in a way you could never have imagined that one summer in high school.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @ren0325 @lix-ables @babrieeee @azurez @soobnny @weird-bookworm @q1sng @telesvng @ren0325 @hello-stranger24

[leggerefiore]

Oceanic Beauty

cw: milotic Volo, death mentions, volo is basically a siren, mentions of loneliness

pairing: Volo/Reader

summary: Legends of a deadly beauty in the coastlands capture your attention. The beauty himself furthers your interest.

happy mermay!

-------

He was beautiful.

Absolutely eye-catching.

The way his pale skin fed into the scales of his lower half simply hypnotised you as it fell into a glamorous show of gilded colour and contrasting ebony. The shimmering scales, almost the same colour as his long locks that flowed behind him in the water. Fluttering fins of a soft periwinkle broke the golden rim of his hair. It was easy to see how many had lost their lives to his song. His beauty was simply ethereal.

A friendly sort to humans, he was not, however. Hybrids often varied in their behaviours, some being overly kind and helpful, while others took to cruelty and hatred. Sailors around Hisui frequently warned of a beautiful creature that lurked in the waters around the coastlands. They would sing an alluring song and leave you with cruel snickers after you sank far too deep into the ocean to escape. You were a researcher under Laventon, so naturally you found yourself drawn to these legends.

Stories of oceanic beauties driving poor men into the sea were not so uncommon, but this one seemed oddly truthful. Perhaps it was simple boredom with little to do in Hisui, however. You sat on the beach, sighing as the summer heat buzzed heavily around you. The poor Spheals that rolled around on the sand looked simply dreadful from the heavy humidity that had flooded the region. Your careful layering had to be abandoned for a thinner ensemble, too.

Everything was quite blurry, admittedly. You had been here for hours, simply awaiting the beauty, as the legend warned not to. Supposedly, they should appear just as the sun found itself being swallowed by the ocean. You began to wonder if your excitement was misplaced, before the Spheals that had taken to lounging around you rolled away, both into the water and further from you on shore. Eagerness bubbled up with the water as a figure popped out from the depths to gaze at you.

Enchanting.

You swallowed.

“Er, hello,” you waved to the hybrid much as you would a fellow Galaxy member, “I simply wished to confirm your existence!” You realised that they had seemed even more alluring than you had first thought. Iscan's warnings of death suddenly sunk in, much like an anchor to a sea bed. “Nice seeing you! Lovely colouration, by the way,” you began to step back from the lapping waves as the Milotic hybrid grew closer, yet closer. A last ditch effort of covering your ears and running away had come, but his song still reached you.

The deep, calming vocals left you in a trance as you felt yourself called to the ocean. You stepped into the waters, feeling the clothing you wore grow soaked and heavy. Desperately, you wanted to reach out to the beautiful man. You waded deeper and deeper, before growing still as the water lapped at your waist. A voice that called to you from far away broke the trance you had been locked in. Breaking your gaze from the hybrid, you felt a familiar worry settle back in. You rushed back to the shore and refused to give any further attention to the beast that lurked in the waves.

You ran so far from the coast, you crashed to the ground with heavy pants bursting from out your chest. Dizziness consumed your brain. Who had called you? Your brain rushed with questions, yet nothing came as an answer. Rolling on to your back, you gazed up at the darkening sky.

The hybrid still had caught your attention despite the brush with near death.

~

Days pass. You mentioned little of your excursion to the professor and tried to distract yourself with general research. Still, the hybrid laid heavy on your mind.

Was it strange to say he seemed lonely? Probably. Something about how he gazed at you in your moments under his spell screamed both malice and hate, yet something desperate and lonely lingered just there underneath. Somewhere you could not yet touch it, but desperately wished to grasp on to.

Maybe it was just his otherworldly beauty that attracted you back to the shore.

Heavy rain lashed down from above. Few pokemon hung around the sandy beach. You sat down once more and gazed out into the water. It was angry and consuming, much unlike the peaceful sight you had gazed upon days ago.

“Do you take the sailors for fun?” you asked while dragging your fingers to feel the wet, gooey sand, “… You seem to get a kick out of watching people suffer.” Moments pass with no sound, but the falling rain and ocean mixed in a cacophony. Slowly, a feeling to leave and never return settled into your chest.

The rising of golden hair from the raging sea and cold, stormy eyes to pierce your soul left you terrified. “Humans are cruel, too,” he hissed out a reply to your question, “Why have you returned? Do you simply wish to die that much?” You were amazed he appeared to you again. His human torso laid upon the beach as he stared at you intensely.

“I suppose we can be…” you decided to focus on his first portion rather than the latter, “Can I not find you interesting? I simply wished to observe you.” His eyes narrowed at your words. You wondered if he would begin to sing his hypnotising song once more.

“… What broke you from my spell?” he asked unexpectedly, “Never before have I failed to claim someone.” His question made you curious, too. You still were unsure who you heard call out to you. It seemed odd, as no one was in the area. The voice was certainly one that you had heard before somewhere, but from just where and who escaped you. There was an intense feeling of trust toward them, you knew.

“I'm… Not sure as to what it was myself,” you answered him, “I thought someone called out for me.” He hummed, a simply beautiful melody in and of itself. “What's your name?” you questioned him, “Do you have one?”

“… Ah, I see,” he pushed himself up from the sand to allow himself to look you in the eyes at the same level, “It was not a death wish but rather simple stupidity.” You gasped at his words. A chuckle came from him at your expression. He placed himself back out into the water. “Volo,” the answer to your question came as he submerged himself once more. Gone, once again, he was.

You had only just then realised the rain had stopped.

Lingering on the beach for a moment longer, you waited for him to return again.

~

You watched as Volo swam elegantly beside you, tail fluttering like a string might in the wind. Basculegion clearly had little trust for the hybrid, but you had decided to venture out with him into the water.

Over the last few weeks, you had taken to waiting for the hybrid on the beach. He seemed to prefer meeting you under the cover of night or in the heavy rain when he appeared at all. Volo was not overly willing to share much about himself, yet he still entertained your company when he decided to appear. Long conversations about random things were a commonplace. It was mostly you blabbing on about random things from your research and little response from the blond hybrid, but you were happy he remained. There was something oddly nice about speaking with someone away from your duties as a member of the Survey Corps.

The small bits you learnt from him were seemingly unimportant. A mention of a “Mistress Cogita” left you curious, but there was a feeling that you should not push the topic too heavily. Smaller mentions about him not growing up in a colony as many Feebas hybrids did and a complicated relationship with the humans of Hisui. Little information to work with, but you had gathered an understanding that he was isolated and annoyed by humans encroaching on his territory. You pondered asking Cogita about her connection to him, but once again decided to leave that topic alone. The poor woman seemed exhausted enough, telling you about all the legends of the region as it was.

You got from Basculegion and sat on the slippery rock as Volo floated in the water beside you. The moon laid at its glowing full phase tonight. The sounds of the ocean were a peaceful ambience to your small escape with the Milotic hybrid. A daring glance at the man showed him boredly gazing up at the sky. His long hair growing dry where it had not been dipped back into the water.

“… Volo,” you decided to ask him something that had been on your mind, “Are you lonely?” His eyes shifted to you with an immediate glare. The question obviously had made him upset, his tense body language and pure malice completely obvious. “… I'm lonely,” you decided to blab on as you usually did with him, “I can't talk to anyone else like I can you. I always feel like I'm one word away from being kicked out of the village, you know…” You closed your eyes.

Suddenly, everything shifted around you. Water rushed above your head, and the precious air in your lungs had to be conserved immediately. A hand wrapped around your wrist answered as to why, but when you opened your eyes, you could only gaze at the majesty of Volo's long tail curling behind him as his hair bloomed behind his head like a bright sun. You reached your arms around him, clinging on to him. His body was cold, like the water. Closing your eyes, you awaited the next moment.

Arms wrapped around you as you were taken above the water. Gasping for air, you opened your eyes. Volo's face was directly in front of you. Your chest was pressed against his. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest from both the previous event and the sheer proximity to him. “… Humans must be even worse than I thought if I'm who you turn to for company,” his voice was a hiss, much like the first time you conversed.

“… It's not that, it's that I'm an outsider… to… them,” as you finished your sentence, you began to realise how Volo felt. His grip around you tightened. Was that how you caught his attention? Had you seemed as lonely to him as he had to you? “Volo…” you whispered, reaching a hand to press to his cheek. The silvery bead of his necklace caught the moonlight gorgeously.

No more words were said.

His lips pressed against yours as you remained in an embrace for an uncertain amount of time within the water. A mutual feeling was shared and did not need to be spoken to be understood. Love had bloomed somewhere when neither of you had cared to give it any mind.

And yet…

By the time the sun had begun to rise, you were left on the rock as he faded under the lashing waves.

You felt desperate for more of him, but there would be no sign of him during the shine of the sun.

It was certain that you would both meet again, however.

Maybe then you would be packed and ready to vanish from the village altogether and spend your days in some sea cave.

Maybe you would move from the village to settle in a home by the sea.

Either way, the legend of the deadly oceanic beauty of the coastlands would grow lost to time.

[zykamiliah]

the moment shen jiu forgives yue qingyuan is the moment he stops being a hypocrite

With that, he came to the cheerful conclusion that Yue Qingyuan had truly done everything he could; he’d gone above and beyond to fulfill the calls of both kindness and duty. Regardless of how much guilt weighed down his heart, his debt had long since been repaid in full.

where before he was denying that luo binghe's revenge was due to his own actions and abuse, and refuse to admit his owns wrong doings in front of yue qingyuan, getting defensive at every question

“Shidi,” he said, exhausted, “we’ve already come this far, so why do you still refuse to consider your wrongdoings?” Even if someone had knocked out his teeth, even if he was left swallowing his own blood, Shen Qingqiu had always stubbornly refused to admit his transgressions—especially in front of Yue Qingyuan, in front of whom you could absolutely forget about any confessions. “What ‘wrongdoings’?” Shen Qingqiu asked bitterly. “Zhangmen-shixiong, please tell me, what is Luo Binghe if not a bastard? You just wait. He won’t be satisfied only taking it out on me. If, in the future, some tumultuous storm upsets the cultivation world, then the only thing I will have done wrong was fail to cut him down at the start.”

after he forgives yue qingyuan, he starts speaking honestly, and confesses he did wrong, that he only has himself to blame for what happened. it's as if some part of him finally relaxes when he realizes that yue qingyuan truly does care about him. his dialogue becomes less defensive, he is absolutely frank about his own personality.

“I’ll tell you this: Even if all of this could be redone from the beginning, in the end, the conclusion would remain the same. My heart is full of malice, my insides hatred and resentment. Today, Luo Binghe wishes for me to die horribly, and I only have myself to blame.”

everything he says from this point is what he truly feels about himself and the world.

“Do you still hold such hatred within yourself?” asked Yue Qingyuan. Shen Qingqiu laughed uproariously. “Only when I see other people unhappy can I be happy myself. What do you think?”

then, he absolves yue qingyuan from guilt in his own way

Shen Qingqiu scoffed. “You ask me to kill you here, Sect Leader Yue? Are you unsatisfied with the crimes Luo Binghe’s already charged me with? You think them too few? Besides, who do you think you are? My hatred will be resolved as long as I kill you? I’m far beyond cure; I hate everything. Don’t blame this humble Shen for any disrespect or mockery, but if Sect Leader Yue considers himself that very cure, he thinks too highly of himself!”

and this is true: shen jiu hates everything, he's said so before. and even when he and yue qi where in good terms, he still hated people. after he forgives yue qingyuan (in his mind) this doesn't change the fact that he hates the world, he hates people, he hates men, and that he hates himself. his self-worth is not restored because he realizes yue qinyuan loves him, but it does stop him from constantly trying to pretend he had not part in what befell him.

before every time yue qingyuan asked him "what are you doing this", he'd blame others: luo binghe for being "who he is", liu qingge for provoking him (when it was exactly the opposite. before he'd try to pretend in front of others that he didn't hate everything and everyone,

Shen Jiu hated far too many people and far too many things. Obviously, people found it hard to say anything good about the character of someone who hated everything. So fortunately, by the time he became Shen Qingqiu, he understood he ought to at least keep that hatred from bubbling to the surface.

which made him look like an hypocrite. but now, finally, in this cell, with yue qingyuan baring his soul to his, he finally stops that behaviour. he acknowledges his own agency.

“Xiao-Jiu, I—” “Don’t call me that!” Shen Qingqiu snarled.

but he still wants to leave the past behind him, and thus his relationship to himself remains the same: he thinks lowly of himself, he sees himself as a "thing". he doesn't have self-esteem or self-love, and he'll keep rejecting the past, rejecting "Shen Jiu".

[vampsquerade]

Hi!

A thought has been stuck in my head for some time now. Fuze/Reader: Enemies to Lovers. Anything about love/hate? I'm sorry I can't express it more precisely, it's hard to get it out of my head.

PS. Welcome back! I hope you're doing well. I wish you a great weekend and a good mood! Love you <3

hello anon!! thank you for the lovely welcome back, you’re so kind and i love you too!! i hope you’re doing well yourself my dear :,) i can definitely write this up for you! enemies to lovers is my favorite i love this so much…but also i’m sorry this may not turn out the way you might have liked, it’s been a while

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fuze x GN!Reader: Breaking Points

Trigger Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, physical altercations (punching, glass breaking over head), emotional distress, heavy drinking, infirmary visits

For years after joining Rainbow, you would’ve thought you’d figure out why Shuhrat had such an undying hatred for you. You didn’t know if it was from the way you introduced yourself to him, the way you acted, or the way you trained. All you knew was that he absolutely hates your guts. But what hurts most from this is the fact that you’ve found yourself falling in love with him. You tried your absolute hardest to be as nice as possible to him, apologizing promptly if he told you to shut up or just go away. In being pretty close to Aleksandr, the eldest Russian pretty much told you everything about Shuhrat, making it much easier to know about the things he liked. How was it that you managed to fall in love with a man that never even got along with you? It was impossible to even reach an understanding as to why you have such emotions for him.

It was like the day fell in love with the night—except the day was lukewarm and the night was freezing.

“Is everything okay, малыш? You are staring at the drink like you want to cry.” Aleksandr asks softly, putting a hand on your shoulder. Blinking a few times, you just sigh and shake your head, “I’m fine.” you lie, giving him a smile before downing your drink. “If you do not feel comfortable drinking with us because of Shuhrat it’s okay. We will not judge you for it.” Timur chimes in quietly, pouring you another drink once you beckon for him to do so. “I want to hang out with you guys though. You guys are at least fun.” you say. “Do not worry, it is still as much of a mystery to us as it is you.” Aleksandr reassures. You just shrug and down your drink once again, making sure to keep yourself separate from Maxim and Shuhrat, both of which were keeping to themselves. You’d been hanging out with Timur a lot more, happy that you knew at least 2 of the 4 Spetsnaz operators didn’t hate you.

Two hours would then come to pass and you’d be practically drunk enough to start a fight—and that’s exactly what you did. Aleksandr and Timur were off doing who knows what in the other corner of the room, laughing their asses off with a few of the other operators that decided to join in. This meant you were completely alone with Shuhrat, and you gripped your glass tightly. “What did I ever do to you?” you say, voice completely monotonous. “Who do you speak to?” Shuhrat asks, voice normally as cold as possible. “You, idiot. What did I ever do to you?” you repeat, keeping your eyes on your glass. “That is for me to know, not you” Shuhrat says, looking at you. “That’s such…bullshit, Shuhrat.” you spit, venom and malice now lacing your tone. “What?” he says, completely taken aback by the word that just left your mouth. His eyes quickly widened once he saw you had raised the arm you were holding your glass high in the air above his head, “Let me make it simpler for you—bullshit!’” you exclaim.

In an instant, the glass made contact with Shuhrat’s head and shattered. Shards flew everywhere and the commotion caused everyone, no matter how drunk they were, to rush over to try and stop the fight you just started. Shuhrat quickly stood despite the disorientation and blood getting into his eyes, swinging a left hook right against your nose. Becoming disoriented with a heavily bleeding nose, you were about to jump at him but you were swiftly held back by Timur and Aleksandr with the same being done with Shuhrat by Maxim and Elias. “What the hell happened?” Miles asks calmly, looking at you. You just stare at him for a moment, before looking back at Shuhrat and managing to push yourself out of the vice grip Aleksandr and Timur had on you.

Drunk and heavily bleeding, you simply turn and walk yourself away from everyone else. Nobody attempts to make a move to follow or stop you for any reason; it would be hell if they tried it upon seeing you snap for the very first time. At this point you’re convinced that nothing would be resolved, so you might as well just reciprocate the energy to him. “Idiot…who did you think you were fooling..?” you mumble drunkenly. Stumbling all the way to the infirmary, you open the door slowly and are met with Mina. “Hey…care to help me with my ninety-nine percent broken nose please..?” you ask. “Damn…who got you this hard?” Mina asked, helping you sit down on one of the beds there. “Shuhrat gave me a damn good one. I deserved it, though…smashed a glass over his head.” you say. “Two of you seem to be getting along much better.” Mina jokes, making sure you keep your head still so she could safely check if your nose was even broken in the first place. “Consider yourself lucky—you’re the 1% that didn’t get their nose broken.”

Feeling relieved, you continue to keep yourself still as Mina treats the injury you sustained. Eventually the bleeding from your nose stops but just in the case of you potentially breaking it, a splint is placed on it carefully. “Go ahead and lay down for a bit. I’m gonna go get you some water.” Mina says as she disposes of her gloves. You do as you’re told and position yourself to lay down, making sure to lay on the right side to avoid Shuhrat if he was to come in. And you would find it to be a good idea, because Shuhrat walked in and mumbled what he needed to Mina. You could only tell it was him by the way he mumbled, and just hearing him made your heart jump a bit in your chest. “God dammit…”

The amount of liquor you drank was making you extremely tired at this point, so you were starting to doze off. A few minutes pass, and as you’re nearly asleep, you feel a dip in the mattress of your bed. You groan at the person, trying to kick them off, only to have both your legs grabbed. “Let…go…” you say. “No. It is time we talked.” the person said. “Shuhrat..?” you mumble, opening your eyes and attempting to sit up. “Remain laid down. You will get yourself dizzy and throw up.” Shuhrat said. “Shut up…don’t tell me what to do…” you say sleepily, continuing to sit yourself up. He sighs softly at this, letting go of your legs but keeping himself ready in the case you decide you want to kick him. “Why do you suddenly want to talk to me?” you ask coldly.

Shuhrat visibly winces before sighing once again, “Because…I need to tell you about everything. None of it really excuses how I treated you—being rude and telling you I hated you—because in reality I was trying to hide other feelings.” he speaks. Your eyes widen, and you’re almost certain you want to kick the shit out of him. But for whatever reason, you can’t seem to bring yourself to do it. It’s as if you’re just…waiting to hear him out and explain himself before resorting to any further violence. “And what were those other feelings that you couldn’t just express to me?” you spit, crossing your arms. “It’s hard for me to show emotion. I used to have a fiancée but…I broke our wedding off because she wasn’t the one for me in the end. Ever since I lost my brother, I have been shut off from others for so long. And then…” he begins before trailing off.

Your previous face of annoyance became one of somber, as you had remembered Aleksandr mentioning that to you. “‘And then,’ what?” you ask. Shuhrat looked you dead in the eyes, and you could see he was sincere with what he spoke of. “And then you came along. It had been years since I broke off my engagement that I forgot how to express emotion. It is not normal for me to even speak as much as I am now. But you…you did something to me, and I did nothing but bring pain.” he said. “Why did it take me breaking a fucking glass over your head to get you to talk with me like a normal human being?” you ask. “I spoke to Harry earlier today about it. I needed proper advice and he said to look for a window of opportunity. That glass over my head was enough.” You laugh bitterly, “You’ve got a lot of fixing to do if you think I’ll just take you so easily…I was in love with you for so long…”

Shuhrat sighed, “Was? Are you no longer in love with me?” he asks. “I think I still am…but by the time we were separated I was thinking it was foolish to even be in love with you for so long…” you say. “Then…perhaps we can start anew.” Shuhrat said, sticking his hand out to you. “What are you doing..?” you ask. “I am Shuhrat, who are you?” he asked almost playfully. You give him a smile, realizing what he truly meant, “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet the real you, Shuhrat.” you say. Giving him your hand, the both of you shake before Shuhrat gently pulls you towards him into an embrace. A gentle kiss is planted onto the top of your head, making you smile.

[lansplaining]

Serious question: why do people hate JGS so much? He’s 120% evil to be sure and has zero redeeming qualities, but he’s a bland-ass, generic, cookie cutter villain and doesn’t really inspire any strong emotions in me. He’s a static character like WC and he’s just there to be evil. I’m sure I must be missing something but I’ve read/seen a zillion other books and movies with a zillion other villains just like him, and mdzs/cql has many other antagonists like XY who are more compelling than him.

I think there's a really big difference between hating a compelling villain like XY and hating a flat villain like JGS. You're not really meant to just flat-out hate XY, there's too much complexity there-- and in a story like MDZS/CQL where so many of even the side antagonists like Su She actually have some complexity and reasoning behind what they're doing, it's sort of relaxing to have someone like JGS around where you can just unreservedly be like, "fuck that guy." (I realize this is directly contrary to many of the themes of the story itself, shhh.)

I also think the depth of one's hatred for JGS probably depends a lot on which characters you like best. I really love JGY, as has been discussed, and JGS does him a lot of active harm. If you're only on the wangxian train he's probably easier to ignore, and if you're all about Yi City he may as well not exist. Because you're totally right: he's a rich, smarmy guy who uses his position of power to rape women and abuse his subordinates/one of his children who he sees as a subordinate. There's no there there, he just sucks. But he directs that malice towards one of my favorite characters, and thus I hate him.

I totally get what you mean, though-- I have absolutely zero feelings about Wen Ruohan. I think it really comes down to which characters you care about most and which characters JGS has hurt-- and also, maybe, all those semi-jokes that point out that a lot of the problems of the series would have been solved in advance if JGS just didn't suck so much.

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

it’s genuinely so interesting to see azula in completely different circumstances bc like. i mean for one she's very autistic and that’s always fun i too am like that except without the burning things and threats and stuff. but also like, we kinda see a little of how her world is like, just a bit. she's often mean spirited towards her friends like everyone else but she's not intentionally cruel, even apologising to ty lee when she realised she upset her. her perfectionism applies in all areas, even things that would seem petty. she's surprisingly empathetic towards zuko when he's mourning in the beach house. she is just generally awful to the people outside of that specific group though. she sees herself as inherently evil, since she's got such a warped view of love she thinks her mother hated her instead of being genuinely concerned about the way she was being influenced.

she’s awful, but she’s very human, and she's absolutely not heartless no matter how much she pretends to be. her relationships with others she’s close to aren’t at all healthy, obviously- she plays mind games even at the best of times and discards people when they refuse to be useful to her- but that’s not out of malice to them at least (the whole rest of the world is another story). considering how much she adores and idolises her father, it’s probably not a stretch to say where that idea of love comes from.

and like. none of this makes azula a better person. but it makes her a person. she's a deeply messed up kid, but she’s still a kid, and not 100% of her actions at all times are done out of cruelty and spite. she’s got a deeply negative self image, and she feels a need for control and domination to feel like she’s worth something to herself- either her self esteem is dangerously high on an ego boost or she's immediately into angry self hatred she externalises at the world. she’s not just “ooh evil crazy!” she’s genuinely mentally ill and has a distorted perception of herself and the world around her, and she does genuinely deserve help for that, as every person struggling with mental illness does. she also needs to be stopped from hurting others- both those she’s close to and those she’s not, because neither is a good position to be in- and removed from her current environment, and instead be somewhere that doesn’t enable her behaviours and keeps both herself and others safe from her anger. and as long as she believes she can’t be a better person- just a more useful monster- she can’t heal and become a better person, and that might not be something that ever happens. she’s awful, she’s cruel, and she also needs genuine mental help.

[ryuichirou]

Hey I recently read your opinion on leona, I adore leona but your analysis on his is everything me and my friends have been saying! I honestly don't think his character is there except for older fans ,since he is 20, to be attracted to. Can I ask your opinion on characters like Jamil? I personally think his hate twords kalim is misguided as it's not kalims fault that they are in the positions they are in. I also wanna know what you think of vil! I have a pretty negative look on him since he seems to be so egotistical and it's almost as if he decides what is proper or beautiful and what isn't. That just rubs me the wrong way, like it feels wrong! Oh! Call me 👾anon!

Hi, 👾Anon! Sorry for the late reply. Whenever I get asks like this one, I always end up replying like a week late, because I really want to collect my thoughts and make sure that I’ve said everything that I wanted to say… And since I love both Jamil and Vil very much and am quite passionate about talking about both of them, this is probably going to be quite a long reply lol, I hope that’s fine with you. In any case, thank you for giving me an opportunity to talk about them, I’ll do my best to reply to you properly.

First of all, I’m glad to hear that you agree with my points on Leona despite being his fan. It is unfortunate that he underdelivers as a character, because he does have potential, but oh well. I also think that you made a good point here – he does seem to be quite popular in that particular side of fandom. Not saying that this is a bad thing necessarily, just not our thing, I guess.

Alright, about Jamil.

I’ve talked about Kalim and Jamil’s relationships in this reply, so sorry if I repeat myself. I really love how difficult their situation is. In my opinion, it’s the situation when no one is really guilty, but at the same time both of them kind of are to some extent.

I agree that Jamil’s hatred towards Kalim is misguided, but at the same time think that it’s easily understandable, maybe even justified to some degree, simply because in Jamil’s eyes Kalim symbolizes the thing he actually hates – the unfair system that forced their roles on them. And Kalim is a direct beneficiary of the said system and participates in it, even though there is absolutely no malice in this fact from Kalim’s side, this is just the way he was raised, he doesn’t even fully realise how harmful this whole situation is for Jamil. This is exactly why he is so heartbroken when he finds out about Jamil’s true feelings about him and about their relationship; he’s so deeply upset by it that he completely ignores the fact that Jamil’s just betrayed him and yeeted him to the edge of the Earth. Kalim feels so guilty and so bad for Jamil, he blames his own obliviousness and his own naivety that he never noticed that. But I don’t think it would be fair to point fingers at Kalim and say “how could you not notice that? Everything is your fault”: once again, this is how he was raised.

Still, even though after that shocking revelation Kalim is eager to change their relationship with Jamil and proposes to him to stop being his servant right away, this problem won’t be fixed that easily, even if Jamil would’ve agreed to it. The system is very difficult to break: both of them are stuck in it indefinitely, and Jamil knows it. That’s why Jamil’s go-to is to aim all his bitterness and anger at Kalim, who basically owns him.

Of course, Kalim is a sweetheart. And he is definitely not the worst master a servant could have: even though he’s clumsy, naïve, a little dumb, very unreliable and spoiled, he is extremely kind and gentle, fun-loving and overall nice. Even if he lacks the understanding to fully get how severe the gap between him and Jamil is, he loves him dearly and appreciates him, as well as acknowledges all the things that Jamil does for him. And once he realises just how hurt Jamil is, he is very eager to do anything to make him feel better.

But it doesn’t change the fact that Jamil had to hide in Kalim’s shadow since they were kids, had to devote his entire life to Kalim, and had to endanger himself constantly because of Kalim. Kalim is nice and it wasn’t him who forced Jamil into this position, but Jamil’s life is still miserable because of Kalim.

Both of them have much growing up to do; they need to communicate better and to handle this problem together. It’s unfair to blame everything on Kalim, and Jamil should probably get over his grudge, because it takes him nowhere: we’ve all seen how horribly his evil plan in Chapter 4 went. But I still think his feelings are understandable. And Kalim has a lot of things he should probably reflect on as well.

I really love these two.

So yeah, about Vil… Vil, Vil, Vil. My beautiful misunderstood swan lol

Please don’t think that I’m dissing you or any other person for that matter, Anon, but I feel like a lot of people didn’t fully get Vil’s motivation and what the main theme in Chapter 5 was. It was about beauty, but it wasn’t really about any specific beauty standard one has to oblige to be a valid human being. Of course, Vil promotes beauty-care, wears make-up and high heels, but I don’t think this is the ultimate factor he judges other people by. The focus of his story is self-presentation, self-expression and art.

Vil is not only a very beautiful person who does a lot to keep himself beautiful (according to what he himself thinks he wants to look like, please note that he doesn’t really fit an appearance standard for his gender and age: he is a 18 year old boy dressing up as someone’s evil step-mother, for Pete’s sake), he is also a hard-working actor, model and dancer, and who wants to be perceived and appreciated as such, as well as being acknowledged for the amount of effort that goes into achieving that.

During Vil’s flashback scene, some comments the staff members made while discussing Vil and Neige were that Vil is just “way too beautiful and perfect to fit the role of a relatable protagonist”, not verbatim, but something along those lines. So, the problem isn’t really that Neige is prettier than Vil in any way; the problem is that Neige is perceived by others in a completely different light. While Vil is the main character (an antagonist), Vil is celebrated for his beauty and acting skills, called professional, which is a high praise, but not what Vil wants – he keeps being put inside that box that he just can’t get out of.

So Vil, who is very used to working hard to achieve his goals, does the best thing he can do: works even harder, hoping to become a star for the first time in his life. But the thing is, one can’t control the way others perceive them, and one can’t control the way their art is interpreted.

This is like the whole idea behind this chapter: the only thing you can control is whether or not you’re satisfied with your own work. Others might dismiss you even if you work hard, or they can praise you even if you’re dissatisfied with your work, or they might even choose some other person even though you think you deserve it more. Fame is fickle, the way others see you is also fickle, so you shouldn’t  look for other’s approval and shine the way you want to shine. This is Vil’s “beauty” that Rooks wants to protect so much: the way Vil loves theatre, loves performing, loves expressing himself with such passion and honesty.

And as a hard-working person and a huge perfectionist, Vil is strict both to himself and to others. Especially when he’s leading a dancing group, like, he was pretty brutal to other kids with the way he controlled their diet and schedule. But there is a combination of two things we need to keep in mind: first of all, Vil does all of this (dieting, exercising, sleeping schedule, skincare, etc) everyday anyways, so he naturally assumes that others won’t die if they stop whining for a moment and try living like him for a couple of weeks (doesn’t mean he’s right, but still, this is just the way he treats himself anyway, so he doesn’t see it as that huge of a deal); second of all, Vil wasn’t really alright during this whole preparation for the competition period. He was so focused on winning over Neige, it literally resulted in him overblotting, because the stakes (and he set them himself!) were way too high and he snapped. So yeah, Vil isn’t perfect, but what I love about him is that he owned up to everything he’d done and actually took responsibility for how brutal their training was. I think the only other person to own up to his mistakes like this was, I don’t know, Riddle probably?

What I love about Vil’s and Epel’s conflict is how nuanced it is. I’ve said it already: Vil is definitely forcing his own ideals on Epel, because he desperately wants to win and thinks that he needs Epel to do so. So yeah, he makes Epel do things he doesn’t want to do. But at the same time, Epel is in the wrong too: what kind of reasoning is “well I don’t wanna do that it’s too girly and lame”? Of course Vil would get mad at that.

This is a spoiler for Chapter 6, so ignore this part if you haven’t played/read it yet, but at a certain point we find out that Rook wasn’t initially a Pomefiore student. And before he joined Pomefiore, his hair was a mess, his skin was a mess, his nails and fingers were a mess and he wore ragged clothes, simply because he didn’t care about how he looked (even though he could’ve easily at least gotten himself some new clothes, the boy is rich). This is where one might chuckle and say “lol Vil forced him to cut his hair and start wearing makeup just so they could look good together”, but this literally isn’t what has happened?? Vil was shook to his core by his looks, of course, but he never forced him to do anything. Long story short, Vil inspired him and helped him, but it was pretty much Rook’s decision first and foremost.

So with Epel, well, these two just rubbed each other the wrong way from the first ever second of their conversation. I feel that Vil thinks he should discipline Epel because of how much conservative junk he has inside of his head. It frustrated Vil, and the way Vil acts frustrated Epel, so of course they attack each other constantly. A lot of their conflict is about their mutual disagreements and difficult relationships between them, not just “well, Vil is forcing Epel to act cute because he doesn’t like village people” or something.

Vil is demanding, and as a house-warden he wants the students from his dorm to take care of themselves, and in that sense he’s a bit of an overly-strict mom at times. Which is… I don’t know, look at it however you want, I just think it’s much deeper than just a guy who’s forcing others to wear concealer. And why is it so much worse than whatever Riddle and Azul are doing, for example? Vil’s rules make more sense and are ultimately focused on self-improvement, at least. I’m saying it as someone who’s never worn make-up, by the way, and I don’t think even Vil would force me to do so lol, but I still respect him deeply. Maybe because he is, in the first place, an artist, and when you look at him that way, it’s pretty easy to see why he is so demanding and strict.

I won’t rant about this topic though, it’s way already too long of a post (and I haven’t said all the things I wanted…), but Vil is much more open-minded than people give him credit for.

So yeah, love him lol

[defectivefanboy]

A True Omnipresent God (Part 3)

     -you left off surrounded by the knights of favonius. in a frenzy you took steps backwards as you looked around to the knights that surrounded you on guard. Cyrus stood strong at the head of the knights as he had his eyes closed in thought. This so called imposter truly did resemble the creator to a T and the slime residing in your hand made it all the better to proving the imposter case. Oh how little do they know… 

[Part 1] x [Part 2] x Part 3 x [Part 4]

C/W: SAGAU (self-aware genshin), cult and religious themes, mentions of murder and torture, yandere characters, any basic sagau themes, Hella angst.

Notes: rushed?? not at all i finally finished it. very slow paced?? yup ! absolutely! but i’ve come back to sagau for angst i was ready i was like mmm angst time and a lot of the stories now are like crack fics. no hate i love them but i wanted blood, sweat tears and more blood, but writing it works better

     Taking a shaky breath you backed up until your back hit the base of the statue. They had the path in front of you blocked as they took steps closer to you, weapons ready to strike. In a panic you looked around as your arms tightened around the slime that was looking up to you in worry.

     ‘They wouldn’t just kill me, would they?!’ you thought to yourself, it was only time before they made their way to you, only moments before you would find out if they would or not. Without thinking you made a break for it to the left avoiding the river that looped the back of the tree. Tightening your arms around Denny, you had forced your legs beyond their limits trying to escape the soldiers on right on your tail.

      It felt as if your lungs were trying to stab you from the inside out, each breath felt on fire. Was your vision failing you? Right as you made it inside the front gates, that protected the inside of monstadt, guards were posted around the area. They were blocking off the three paths that lead further in the city, the bridge that lead off the island was slowly being filled with the guards that were in pursuit, Cyrus only a few ticks back, seemingly being in thought.

      Your own breath clogged your throat as you realized. They were all afraid, but you’re a human. Right? Five fingers, two legs and arms, you are able to speak to them damnit! Why? Why is this happening?! You only came back when you felt Denny coware into your body. Were they scared of Denny? He looked more scared of them than they were of him.

     Lost in your own thoughts as you held the Dendro slime in your arms as another stern voice called out to you.

      “State your name and business, Imposter.” 

     you knew that voice. The Acting Grandmaster, Jean, stood tall in front of your crouched form. Even as your life was on the edge of her sword to decide, decide if you were worth keeping alive or not.

     Yet, she was still as beautiful and strong as ever, a pixelated screen didn't do her justice. Though, to be bowing to her wouldn’t be minded, this just… wasn’t the… exact situation you thought it would be in.

     “Why do you all keep calling me imposter?? What do you mean?!” you exclaimed.

     “LIAR!! You dare wear the face of all that is holy?!” Jean spat out malice hanging on each word. This is not the jean you remember from the game. 

     This is someone who had a deep hatred for the being in front of them.

 That being you.

     “You come in here wearing a fool’s disguise and THINK for even a Moment… us… US who are devoted.., Would EVER think you were real?” she continued on Your tongue lapping in your mouth trying to think of the words to say, trying to stand yourself up, you felt a shock run through your body that knocked you back down. “You will stay on the ground, you abyssal filth.” a harsh and cruel voice rang from behind you.

       Oh great.., all we needed was a masochist to join in.

      “Please you.., you just have to listen to me! I dont know what you are talking about!!” you choked out before another shock wave coursed through you, causing you to spit up.

      “I'm not from the abyss I promise you,, im not an,, an imposter! Please i just woke up here and dont know whats going on!” you were shouting and yelling at this point. Your voice has gone coarse and rough, head pounding as the world spun around you. Denny, who had been holding onto you, was pulling at your shirt, ‘it was time to run’ what he was saying as he watched more guards pile in, Kaeya at the forefront of it.

     Gritting and barring your teeth you grabbed denny from the ground, tucking him within your shirt as you stood. 

      “No holy god of ours would ever touch a nasty no good pest such as the one you hold on yourself as we speak” jean pointed out as she held her sword towards the lump now in your shirt.

      “Maybe your so-called ‘holy god’ needs to get kicked in the head because anything I see that is a pest here, Are you no good humans that roam this land!” you took steady steps towards her as she reeled back in confusion.

     “You call Denny nasty when you haven't even seen a speck of dirt under your nails” you lunged forward, gripping her wrist and taking her sword from her hand as you bolted through the crowd of civilians. The knights had already begun to chase as Lisa and Kaeya gathered around jean.

      Gods, why was this how your day would turn out. As the clouds darkened in the sky above you and rain began to fall. The knights that were in tail slowly started to drop one by one, be it the heavy armor was wearing them down, or the storm coming over head, or just being flat out drained from the chase, they began to be picked off slowly until you were finally able to stop for a breath.

       A cry left your throat as you slowly dropped to the ground, it hurt, it all hurt. Your feet, your legs, your throat, your head… everything.. It hurt. Denny slowly slid from your shirt to the ground below. He stared up at you with concern before looking around for a pond or a puddle, before sliding over to it.

      You were too busy resting your head in your hands trying to ease the pounding headache that resigned in your brain Denny brought over a friend. A little hydro slime stared up at you as Denny pulled at your pant leg. Looking down at him through teared lashes you saw them both. Letting out a soft sigh you rested your hands and looked down at them. 

     You gave a soft smile before reaching a hand to touch the hydro slime. As you grazed the slime water slid up your hand as over the several cuts upon your arms. ‘Where have I seen this before’ you thought to yourself as you brought your arm up to watch the water heal your wounds over. 

     “huh.. didn't know you could do that... guess I don't know a lot of things huh?” you said resting your head on your knee as you watched the two interact. You didn't expect the warmest welcome, hell you didn't expect one at all, but that, that was different. That was terrible, what was going on with mondstadt? You've never seen this in game, not even during stormterror days. This was different; they were on edge already. Lifting your head you watched as storm clouds began to settle and rain began to fall. 

     You went to stand up before trembling over yourself and falling back, finding balance on the tree behind you. 

This,, this will be a long night.

[oflostinfound]

WHAT IS YOUR HATE LANGUAGE

Stealing

You ever had your car or apartment broken into and your most valuable or loved possessions just taken away from you? Let’s be honest, most people steal because they simply need to to survive, maybe some out of greed, but you do it out of pure malice. You take the last of your roommate’s ice cream, you steal your siblings favorite stuffed animal, you steal your classmate’s pencil box, if you steal money from someone you genuinely think that person deserved it. Your crimes can range from shoplifting to grand theft, and you fucking hate billionaires. The best things to steal aren’t money though, it’s things that people love or can’t live without. Many don’t know of this hate language, but if you’ve ever had the impulse to steal your enemy’s last soda, you now know why.

Torture

Torture is a rare, complex, and yet varied hate language. It can be many things, but it’s defining feature is knowing your enemy well enough to know exactly what will get to them. It can be as mild as ignoring someone you hate cause you know it’ll drive them up the wall. It can be sitting in the same room as them and making horrible small talk with a smug look on your face cause you know they hate that. It can be the smallest things and it can be the most vulgar things. The time you spend with your enemy is hell on earth for them. And you can do the same with the time you don’t spend with them. Usually for the other hate languages I’d say your most likely, but I don’t even wanna know for this one. You’re intelligent but god damn you’re a sick fuck.

Violence

Physical Violence is a common, yet bold hate language. It’s old as time and is as natural as rain. It’s often one of the first thoughts that come to us when we feel hatred, but you actually have the moxie to go through with it. Fist fights at bars and you think assassination is the best option in politics. You’re an absolute loose canon. Your most likely crime would be murder. The only down side of this hate language is how hard it is to get away with it.

[egg-emperor]

Right on! I honestly do not understand why people say things like "We gotta humanize eggy by making him less evil" . Eggy is already a very human character. Selfishness and greed have been human traits ever since caveman Grog bashed his neighbour Tharg's head in with a rock and stole his wife, meat and fur.

Eggy is a great example of what happens when a human just lets their selfishness, greed and ego run wild.

Exactly, being evil is very human. The dark parts of humanity and the human mind has always fascinated me both in real life and fiction, morbid curiosity and my passion for writing characters believing in and doing things that I never would, and the challenge that comes with seeing from different perspectives that improves my skills as a writer, are all things I hold dear. It has inspired years of learning, analysis, creativity, and writing for me.

I don't want to pretend we live in a world where everyone is secretly good. There is abhorrent evil in this world and it can and should be fictionalized just as much as the good that equally exists. I also don't want to pretend that the human mind's, beliefs, feelings, and desires are always pure and well intentioned deep down in every person. The mind can be a dark place in many ways too. My mind is and I don't want to hide that in shame.

Just because my mind is one way doesn't mean my actions reflect it, just like how some people's actions won't reflect their mind either. That's also interesting to me to explore through learning about it and fictionalizing it. I like to see what dark minds like mine can create too and it's just as valuable. I wish people like us weren't shamed and told that we can't create and share our passion and our work just because it doesn't have conventional goodness.

There are many inherent human traits and feelings people in fandom (or holier than thou people in general) like to pretend don't exist, like they're above it and say it shouldn't be explored in fiction. But they're in denial that they're things we can all feel. Goodness, love, kindness, anger, envy, confidence, desire, self love, empathy, etc, exists in humans but so does evil, hatred, cruelty, anger, malice, jealousy, arrogance, greed, selfishness, apathy, etc.

Love can become dark and selfish or be replaced by hate. Kindness can be replaced with cruelty. Anger can become malice. Envy can become jealousy, confidence can become arrogance, desire can become greed, self love can become egotism, multiple of these things and more can have selfishness in them too. We're all capable of feeling these things even if we don't, and they can't seem to accept that and deny it, especially regarding characters.

It's common for people to deny these things are human, it's why they say those who do horrible evil are "inhuman/monsters/animalistic/etc". They don't want to believe and accept that they're human like us. That we could be like them. Humans can be vile and wretched and deeply evil just like they can be good. You can be one or the other or both. Many times they can overlap but at the same time, I don't agree that nobody can ever be truly fully evil.

You can absolutely still be a truly terrible person if you do "good" things and you can do "bad" things while still being a truly good person. Good intentions can show in bad ways when they become harmful and toxic and bad ones can appear good in manipulation or delusion. Acknowledging THAT is what nuance is, not pretending we're all exactly the same and must all have certain assets apply to us or were incomplete, unrealistic, or boring.

Humans can be so many different things in so many different ways but those can be very good or very evil. It's possible for only the good or bad things to apply, or a mix of both. That's why I like putting characters into good, neutral, and evil. The real world isn't only good and neutral and fiction shouldn't be either. Embracing and exploring the evil too is the true excitement and challenge of writing. You need this skill, that's what it takes to be a good writer.

I like how Eggman reflects the true evil in humanity that very much does exist. It's not unrealistic, it's just his out of this world crazy methods that are. But I wish people didn't forget his evil, anger, malice, cruelty, sadism, rudeness, apathy, ruthlessness, egotism, selfishness, greed, dark desires, destructive tendencies and crimes are all very human. We're all capable of that. We do feel at least some of those because it's so human.

That powerful message has existed in Eggman from the very beginning. He's not representing all humans being bad, but the very real evil and dark part of humanity that exists and shouldn't be denied or sugarcoated. Pretending that what he's doing is actually good/has to have originally good intentions behind it/have him change into a better person to "fix" him or give him nuance, takes away from that message and removes what makes it interesting and clever.

Eggman being evil, egotistical, and egotistical is what leads to his evil acts, cruelty, desire for power and control and the awful things he'll do to get it while enjoying it. That's the causation and we're told over and over by the writers, the bios, the character and stories themselves. They do not imply that it comes from a good place in the games and this isn't bad or unrealistic and certainly not "boring". It's intriguing and has tons of potential.

Humanizing Eggman is acknowledging and accepting that he's all these things while still being human, dehumanizing him is denying he is these things or saying he's inhuman for it. I'm actually humanizing him, those who act like humans must all tick the exact same boxes are dehumanizing him. It should also serve as a reminder that we could all be like him, we're all capable of that darkness and evil if we have the will and decide to act.

And I always enjoy exploring and writing characters who do, especially when seeing how far they can go because it's just fascinating. It's also fun to take on the challenge to write a character with such a different perspective and experiences than my own and it helps improve writing and characterization skills without personal feelings or bias influencing how you write that character and straying away from accuracy. That's very important in good writing.

Eggman has very human traits and feelings, they just exist in very evil ways in him, which is just as realistic and should be represented and explored too. It's also absolutely possible to develop and humanize him even more without going purification/bettering/redemption/downplaying of his actions or putting sympathetic sad reasons or good intentions behind what he does. It can be done without losing what makes him unique and himself.

Sega/Sonic Team/official writers seem to know what they're doing with Eggman in the games even in Frontiers, by him still very much not being a better/less evil person or suddenly morally gray, he's a bad person and even the "good" things are rooted in selfishness and ego. It's just that some don't understand because they think there's only one way to humanize bad guys further and deny they're human in the first place just for being evil at all.

Everything isn't just good and evil but it is still absolutely possible to just be good or evil as much as both or somewhere in between. I don't want to pretend it isn't. The approach they've had to Eggman's further humanization, though he was already very human in the first place, is good because it's more interesting and nuanced than the majority of fandom is making it out to be. I'm looking forward to them making that especially clear in the future.

And I mean in main game stuff specifically, as they've actually already been doing it in all official media since Frontiers in IDW, Murder of Sonic, even Minecraft and it's great. He's still very much evil and not a better person and I'm so happy about that. But I can't wait until it's in a main game again so misconceptions about Eggman's portrayal in Frontiers that go against the writers stated intentions will be cleared up even more blatantly.

And of course as usual I'm also just really excited to see what kind of glorious diabolical evil the handsome devil gets up to next! 🥰💜💘

[lady-lazagna]

more wattpad and anti-wattpad headcannons, please! those were too good, hit the nail on the head!

A very common scenario for wattpad imagines is how the character would confess their love✨ Now, I'm sure the main characters (or half of them, anyway) would be pretty normal about this. But I'm certain that most characters are going to be absolute freaks about it.

So, here it is: Which characters would be absolute freaks when it comes to confessing their love?

Kyoya- Kyoya hates feeling positive towards anyone. Even if he is madly in love with you (you being Gingka, probably) he will never ever say anything of the sort. Instead, prepare for years of feverish obsession and growing self-hatred from him, and maybe it'll culminate in a confession right before the fucking world ends.

Ryuga- Now, I know I said last time that this man is incapable of romance. BUT, on the off chance that he felt anything for you in his heart other than cold, spiteful malice, how would he tell you? Why, he'd burn down your fucking house. How dare you make him feel fuzzy feelings? Eliminating weakness is self care😌

Tetsuya- The smell of chloroform still heavy under your nose, you slowly awake to find yourself in a deep hole in the sand. Above you, a dilapidated man looks down on you, smiling. Should you refuse his declaration of love, he says, he will call forth a swarm of crabs from the very sand you're buried in, and you will be devoured.

Sophie and Wales- Something tells me that anything these two could say to you would pale in comparison to what you've already heard them say about their One and Only, Julian. Like, noah fence, but... you're no heir to the Konzern fortune, babe :/

Jack- Blows up your house and rearranges the rubble into a heart.

Damian- It's fucking Damian. Any genuine feelings he develops will be crushed down by his own insecurities, and will likely end up turning into a seething hatred.

Johannes- Pisses on you to claim his territory.

Aguma- Instead of saying anything remotely romantic, he asks you to join his cult the Beylin Fist. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was offering for you to become one of his henchmen.

Pluto- Much like Aguma, he invites you to join his cult. Only this time, if you refuse, he'll feed you to his boss.

[aquato-family-circus]

Been thinking of this post I made, and it's tangentially related:

I frankly wonder what the mind of a person who is completely consumed by hatred looks like.

Is their mental world just this absolute hellscape, with everything they loved and cared about warped and twisted into screaming malice and hatred at the target of their rage? Their personality completely subsumed?

Is Bad Moods just everywhere, all in some kind of weird bad mood hive? Nightmares in every corner with sheer seething rage and malice from every pore? Enablers constantly goading the above to brutalize everyone and anything they deem evil, regardless of the consequences?

And in the corner, regrets and doubts are hidden away, buried because they can't bear to face what they've become.

Or is it just a shallow facade akin to Gristol mixed with Boyd, but the facade is always on the verge of shattering apart, revealing the sheer malevolent hatred and fear and trauma underneath.

Like I imagine the character being someone who was genuinely harmed, someone who felt powerless and helpless until one day, they just...broke.

And ever since then, they inflict constant harm to anyone they deem irredeemable, inflicting brutal harm to even the smallest of slights, the smallest thing that sets them off because all they can remember, all they can "see" is the people who harmed them. There is no "good people" in their minds, only people scheming to inflict the brutality in return, and thus they must harm and harm and harm to feel the slightest reprieve, the slightest bit of safety. Domination over restoration.

But then they get into a situation where they're forced to confront what they really are, what they've become.

And then they just can't take the truth. They break completely because the sheer horror and guilt at what they're doing just...they can't take it.

And any subsequent attempts to go into their mind leads to a world filled with Panic Attacks, Doubts, Regrets, manifestations of guilt and self-loathing at what they've become. Much like how the sheer hatred and anger subsumed their personality, now the horror at what they did completely drowns their mental world.

as with the original, I don't have much to add, but it's an interesting thought! someone so hateful and bitter would have a lot going on in that head I think