#heavy angst if you know the full story lmao

[screamingcrows]

Between appointments - Sunday x Reader

Tags: soft angst, hints at unrequited love, gn reader Notes: This takes place between the meeting with Aventurine and the confrontation with Gallagher. Not a lot happens in this. Should be 2.2 spoiler free Feed this to an AI and I'm feeding you to Acanthaster planci Minors, ageless, blank blogs; you'll be blocked on sight

In your eyes, it was impossible to miss how affected Sunday was by the negotiations with the IPC's representative. His hand had been so tightly clenched behind his back that you'd worried blood would soon stain his pristine gloves. Once it was clear his 'guests' had left for good, you slowly exited the hidden nook you'd been tucked away in for most of their discussion.

"Sir? Can I-" your voice faltered for a moment, seeing him tense as if he'd been snapped out of his thoughts, "can I do anything for you?"

A sigh left the man, back straightening before he turned to meet your gaze, the same smile as always upon his lips. The sight only made your stomach sink further, having watched from the shadows long enough that his impending response was obvious. Consistency was key to maintaining order, and during your year of serving The Family, he had presented himself as nothing less than a perfect leader.

"Your concern warms my heart, but rest assured, there is nothing I need at the present save for locating the individual responsible for these unfortunate circumstances," his voice sounded somewhat strained, yet the smile remained.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, your gaze drawn towards the blue ribbons adorning his shoulder, one of them having slid down. Without thought, your hands reached out and fixed it, ignoring the feeling of feathers tickling your skin.

"It didn't seem to go particularly well? It's rare that you turn to-"

"My suspicions were confirmed, that is good enough."

It always made your heart clench when he invoked Their presence, knowing it wore at his heart, but from the firmness in his tone, you gathered it had been more than necessary. He nodded his head and your body obliged without much thought, stepping backwards while he whispered a word of thanks, wings folded a little more than usual. No doubt the confrontation had been strenuous.

"Your suspicions?"

You knew asking was treacherous territory, but the words had already seared your tongue in the meager seconds of hesitation.

"While The IPC is undoubtedly seeking to take advantage of this turmoil, nothing in their representative's conduct led me to believe they are the ones responsible. Merely profiting on the tribulations of others as usual."

His hand had already gone behind his back again. Would he start plucking out his feathers as well if this went on long enough? It was no secret that you harbored romantic feelings for the Oak Family head, and lulling yourself into a belief that your presence calmed Sunday had been easy enough.

"But that doesn't mean you're out of ideas, does it?"

Enigmatic as always, he shook his head softly, faint traces of a smile dancing upon his lips, although it didn't reach his eyes. It was hardly unexpected that you were kept in the dark, as a regular member you had no claim to such knowledge. However, that didn't mean being perpetually unable to help with anything meaningful didn't feel like a knife twisting in your heart.

"Sunday, you know I'm here to help you, right?"

"I assure you, I am well aware. I would, however, prefer to keep any unnecessary involvement out of this."

His words might as well have been a thousand pins. He'd begun moving around the table, gloved fingers trailing along the edge of the polished wood. His wings had spread back out as well, a telltale sign that you were speaking to the family head, not the man you yearned to hold.

"Let me at least prepare you a cup of tea, or perhaps a-"

"There is no need to fuss. I have another matter to take care of shortly, and it is something preferably done alone," he'd turned his head just enough to give you a pointed look.

A sigh left your lips, fingers anxiously fidgeting as you went around the grand table, desperate to cross the chasm keeping him away.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have listened in. But for once, I want to know what's going on, you haven't been yourself since Miss Robin…" your voice trailed off, the soft rustling of feathers accompanied by a wave of uneasiness making you hold your tongue for a moment, "If telling me is out of the question, at least let me take care of you, however fleeting time may be."

"Whatever debt you felt was owed to The Family for taking you in, I assure you, They have long since acknowledged your sincerity and hard work. You are free to enjoy this sweet dream," there was that firmness again, how you wished he'd speak frankly when his own desires surely could not align with those words?

"I'm not staying for Them, I'm staying for you."

"I have to once more remind you, whatever it is you think you will find in me is- well, it's not possible. Not even here."

You were close enough to touch Sunday by now, yet his back was still turned towards you. Close enough that the rise of his shoulders with every staccato breath was impossible to ignore. Peering past him, the dark bird sat perched atop a shelf, keen eyes ever watchful as it looked through your body.

"Even so, I can remain by your side," the waver in your voice was minimal, knowing now was not the time to let emotions run loose. You knew that what you wished for was impossible, but clinging to the hope that your presence could make a difference nonetheless was all that mattered. He didn't deserve to be alone.

The way his head lowered and his hand clenched was in stark contrast to his usual conduct. Had you pushed him too far?

"I would hate to see you tethered to the ground because of me. Opportunity is what leads people here, now that you have it, there is little reason to squander it."

"You think I'd be happy running around in the golden hour, drinking SoulGlad and attending galas while you're working yourself to the bone?"

It had come out as more of an accusation than a question, something that immediately made your eyes widen in regret. When he turned towards you, the small smile was still etched upon his features. A hand came to rest on your shoulder, the weight of it enough that you felt unsteady for a moment, held up only by his eyes.

"My heart belongs to Penacony and the shared dream for the future it holds, so long as it thrives, so too will I."

He looked tired this close, and you couldn't help but place a hand atop his, tearing your gaze away to lower your head, unwilling to burden him with your teary expression. If this was what he wanted…

"In that case, I shall wait here for your return… Do you need me to prepare anything?"

He squeezed your shoulder gently before letting his hand fall, and with a shake of his head he walked past you towards the grandiose doors.

"Sunday?" you had to restrain yourself from doing anything hasty, unrest plaguing your mind already at the thought of leaving him to face this alone, "Once the Charmony Festival is over, I'd like to experience more of the dream, preferably not alone."

[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

[scarthefangirl]

Admit it

Hobie brown x fem!reader

Request: Can I get a hobie brown x stubborn fem! reader. Like they obviously like each other but won’t do anything about bc of her. Hobie keeps asking what’s up and she just brushes it off. Turns out, she just wants to protect him.

Warnings: Some language, angst, poorly written lmao, not proof read

Story type: Blurb

PART 2 |

Masterlist | REQUESTS OPEN

After a particularly pressing mission, your new focus was on the grumbling in your stomach.

I grab a tray and fill it with food, rushing to an empty table. As I take my first bite, hear a tray slamming down across from me. I glance up and see Pavitr smiling at me over the table.

"So," He says cheerfully, drawing out the 'o'.

"Yes?" I ask, mouth full of food. The second I have enough swallowed, I take another large bite.

"You and Hobie…. What's the deal?" He inquires and my face immediately heats up. I take a moment to swallow my food and reply simply,

"There is no deal."

"You guys flirt all the time! You obviously like each other." He presses. My heart races at the thought of Hobie and I consider confiding in Pav. Nausea twists into my stomach and I just shake my head and take another bite. The topic is not up for discussion. "Y/N, you deny your feelings every time someone asks. Why won't you admit you like him? You guys could be so happy." My chest tightens and for a second I nearly forget how to swallow.

"There's no feelings." I shrug.

"Admit you like him and spare us all this agony of waiting!" He exclaims and luckily I am saved from Pav's interrogation when Hobie takes a seat next to him, Gwen and Miles plopping down next to me.

"Admit she likes who?" Hobie asks with a smirk, although he already knows who he was asking about. I just stuff my mouth with my lunch, barley taking a break to breathe. Throughout lunch I catch his gaze on me, not attempting to hide it, and I feel my stomach churning.

I survive lunch unscathed and head to the only place I feel like I can really breath, the roof of the building I was just eating in. I sigh in relief the second I step into the open, freshness of the outdoors. I take a seat, dangling my legs off the edge. I breath in and out evenly, staring out at the vast view of headquarters. The spider people walking and flinging around look like ants from my elevated position.

I sit like this for a while. Calm and away from the stress of headquarters. But it is ruined when a voice calls out behind me, drawing nearer.

"Y/N what are ya doin up here?" The familiar British voice rung in my ears, immediately placing butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

"It's peaceful," I say, looking at Hobie as he sits next to me. "Or, it was." I tease. We settle into silence, both staring forward. He bounces his legs as they dangle and I can hear his heavy breathing, subconsciously matching it. His proximity causes shortness of breath and I am about to get up when he speaks, breaking the silence.

"Its a beautiful view." He states and I nod. We both turn to face forward again, the wind humming in my ear and blowing my hair gently. I wish we could be here forever, sitting in each others quiet presence. But we can't.

I notice him scooting closer, slowly. If I blinked I wouldn't have even noticed him closing the gap between us. I can't help the sick feeling overcoming me, making me want to free fall off the edge.

We both look at each other, holding eye contact. Normally one of us would ruin the moment with a snarky comment, but instead he begins to lean in slightly. I feel his breath and it sends shivers down my spine. For a minute I want to kiss him, well, I always want to, but for a fleeting second I almost do. I wish I could freeze time, just like this, and stay like this forever.

"I- I can't." I whisper, heart breaking as I pull back. I turn away, missing the hurt flash across his face. This isn't the first time I've ended a moment before it can begin. I know I'm leading him on, but he makes it hard not to succumb to the moment. But a certain spidermans voice rings through my head in these moments, clearly saying "You have to keep your distance."

"This is one fucked up game darlin," He sighs with a humorless chuckle and I know he's right. He doesn't understand how bad I want to be his everything. He doesn't understand how much it hurts me to be the bad guy. He doesn't understand the longing I feel.

"You're so good at games though," I laugh, and he knows what I'm getting at.

"I flipped the board one time in the game of Life. It is a major misconception of real adult hood. Not everyone wants to get married or have kids or go to university," He rolls his eyes, and I don't mind his rant. I chuckle and like that, it's like the almost kiss never happened.

~

"You guys completed the mission?" Miguel questioned harshly. Everyone nods and he continues, "How was the performance?"

"Everyone did well," Gwen says and everyone hums in agreement. "Pavitr and Miles did exceptional with getting the people out." She adds.

"Y/N you specifically disobeyed orders and went into the building when you were supposed to be helping Gwen." Miguel snaps and I feel embarrassment bubbling in my stomach.

"She don't follow rules, if she did she'd be boring." Hobie says which earns a vicious glare from Miguel. Hobie puts his elbow on my shoulder, head in his hand, and leans his weight on me. I feel scarlet crawling up my neck and spreading onto my face. I catch Miguel's fixed glare on me and look to the ground.

"Hands off Brown." I grin and step to the side, causing him to loose balance for a moment. He passes me a dirty look and I laugh at him.

As everyone is leaving, Miguel tells me to stay back. My shoulders tense and I can't bare to look him in his red eyes. "Y/L/N. Have you been following my orders?" He demands.

"Hmm, what were they again?" I pretend to forget, scrunching my face and holding my chin to annoy Miguel. It works, his scowl deepening.

"Y/L/N, I tell you everyday. You can't date Hobie. You have to keep your distance. It's better that way."

"I know. I know, okay?" I groan, wishing he wouldn't stress it so much. It only makes it hurt me worse. He just pinches the bridge of his nose, no doubt mentally cursing me.

"You can't disrupt the canon." I roll my eyes at his comment.

"I know." And with that I turn around and stomp out. I can't stand this. Not being able to be with the boy I'm head over heels for, all because I'm supposed to have my first kiss with someone else.

That's my fucking canon event. My first kiss, and then other bullshit. I can't kiss Hobie because that's not my canon first kiss, and have to keep my distance because its canon that my first kiss happens on my first ever date so I have to wait to go on my first date for some idiot from my universe.

I'm so entranced in my thoughts as I walk aimlessly around, not knowing where I plan on going, when I bump into Hobie. I nearly fall but he catches me and helps me get my balance. Again, blush creeps onto my face.

"Now you're literally falling for me," He smirks, the lighting causing his rose ring to sparkle. I narrow my eyes and snort. "You alright?" He asks in a mocking way.

"Yeah, sorry," I grumble and step out of his grasp.

"Didn't you fall on me the first time we met?" He reminisces, walking with me as I shuffle forward. I remember as well, I had just joined and I had pissed off a spider cat, I was running from it when I bumped into him and took him down. I immediately fell for him, ironically.

"I can't forget when we first met." I start and his eyes widen in surprise at my sentiment. "But I'll keep trying." Which causes him to glare at me andd flip me his middle finger.

"Aren't you miss snarky?" He elbows me and I laugh. We walk together for awhile, to nowhere in particular. Eventually we catch up to Miles and Pav, who wiggle their eyebrows at us.

"Ooh, look at the love birds." Miles nudges Pavitr, a sly grin on his face. Although I know where they are coming from, it doesn't stop my heart from dropping.

"Where?" I play dumb and look around with a fake jaw drop.

[Two days later]

We have finished working for the day and a lot of my spider friends are chilling in one of the many living rooms in headquarters with me.

"Anyone else starving or just me?" Peter b asks, Mayday crawling on his shoulders. I nod hastily in agreeance. "Im going to get some dinner, who's with me?" He stands and a few others do too.

"I think I'm just going to head home to eat, but thanks!" I smile and wave them off. They linger outside for a moment, trying to decide on something.

"Want to go back with me and grab a bite together?" Hobie asks, staring into my eyes. I avert his gaze, cheeks burning.

"I'm okay, thanks though." I say with a faltering smile. My eyes fall to the floor as I hear the murmurs of the group quiet at the sound of my rejection.

"Another time then." He smirks but I notice the grimace behind his expression.

"Maybe," I lie for his sake and head back to my universe as quickly as possible.

~

"I can't believe you did that!" Pavitr gags in disgust.

"it's not so bad," I shrug and take another bite of the mayo lathered corn. Miles shudders in disgust and Gwen rolls her eyes. I lift another spoonful to my mouth when the spoon is snatched from my hand as Hobie takes a seat next to me. He stuffs it into his mouth and swallows, then makes a scrunched up expression that leaves me staring slightly.

"That's putrid." He grimaced and I shrug once more.

"You just don't have an exquisite palette like I do." I puff my chest out and grin. He digs into the contaminated corn again, scooping another bite and eating it. "I thought it was putrid?"

"I don't believe in consistency," He gives me a side eye and I roll my eyes.

"Why don't you just admit you guys are in love?" Gwen blurts then turns pink in embarrassment. I immediately turn my head from Hobie, praying he doesn't notice the fluster evident on my face.

"Yeah Y/N, admit it." Hobie mocks and I shake my head.

"there's nothing to admit. I don't like Hobie." I say.

"Yes you do." The table says at the same time, including Hobie.

"No i don't."

"Oh please, admit it already." Miles groans.

"No, there isn't anything to admit."

"Yes there is," Hobie smirks and I fight the burning sensation that stings my cheeks.

"No." I press.

"Yes." He continues. Gosh, I just want to strangle him.

"No. Stop it." I say, heart dropping. I can't like him why can't he be okay with that? I can tell he feels guilty for pressing, which makes me feel bad for snapping. "Sorry, I'm sorry." I close my eyes tightly and sigh, getting up from the table and going to my safe place. The roof.

I am welcomed with a gush of wind that blows my hair into my eyes and mouth. I have to continuously brush the hair away as I sit in my usual place. Even with the hair in my face and the wind burning my skin slightly, its still calming. Until its not.

"Y/N!" Hobie calls in a sing-song voice and I close my eyes in aggravation. He takes a seat next to me and I feel a lump growing in my throat. I just want to hold him and kiss him and hug him and never let him go.

"Do you pretend to like me, or pretend not to?" He asks and it takes me a second to understand.

"I don't do either." I say flatly, standing up to leave. Miguel would want me to walk out and keep my distance. And that's what I am doing, walking away, until Hobie uses his webs to bring me tumbling into him. I gasp in fear that I'll fall over the edge but Hobie catches me. I pant to catch my breath as i sit wear I was before.

"I should push you off this damn roof, Brown!" I shout.

"Oh please, you're fine. You're just proving my point. I know you, if you didn't like me than you would've pushed me." He chuckles and then gets a serious look on his face. "Why do you act like you don't like me? Am i-" he groans, embarrassed of his next question. "Am I doing something wrong?"

He's looking at me with the saddest expression I've ever seen him make and it nearly causes the lump in my throat to escape into a sob, but I manage to keep it down.

"You're not doing anything wrong Hobie." I sigh and gaze into his eyes, my own glossed over.

"Then what is it?" He demands, "You owe me an explanation!"

"I also owe you like 40 bucks, so what?" I try to play it off, despite the crack in my voice, hoping we can toss this in the bin of 'forgotten' moments. We have a lot of them.

"Y/N." Is all it takes for tears to spring out of my eyes. He looks surprised, scooting back slightly. I rub extremely hard at my eyes with my hands until I've relatively stopped.

"Sorry the wind got in my eyes." I laugh, but its not even half hearted. When he looks at me I know he doesn't believe a thing I say.

"Just tell me the truth." I meet his eyes as he speaks and feel my heart breaking at how badly I want to smash my lips against his. We stare into each other's eyes so deeply it makes me want to shuffle off the edge. My face twitches towards his and then I pause.

"I can't Hobie." I whisper but it is pointless to say anything, the look we're sharing tells enough truth. Before I realize what we're doing I am swept in the moment and we begin to kiss. Its better than I've ever imagined. His kisses me delicately, like I am fragile. I suppose I am, considering this may be the only time we kiss. We should savor it.Despite his gentleness, I kiss him with urgency and desperation. I need this. I need him.

After a moment, reality comes crushing in. I'm kissing Hobie. My first kiss, Hobie Brown. I can't do this! This is it, I've ruined everything. It's self sabotage. This is just making it harder than it has to be. I am about to pull away and tell him it's a mistake, but before I get the chance Miguel's voice booms from behind us.

"Y/L/N!" He shouts an I flinch, scrambling away from Hobie. Immediately I burst into tears. Its too much. "I've told you countless times not to do this. You had ONE rule." He yells and confusion clouds Hobie's face.

"I've ruined everything." I whisper to Hobie, but really to myself. Tears stream down my face as Michael's large shadow covers me in shade. "I'm sorry." I tell Miguel, throat tight as I keep myself from sobbing.

"It's too late Y/N. There's no going back now." He says it dangerously low. "Get up." I obey, and as I turn to follow him away I glance back at Hobie, who is no doubt utterly confused. I'm sorry, I mouth to him sadly.

I tried to stay away from him, but I couldn't.

~

part 2 ;)

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[wooataes]

in case of emergency - ljh

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, slight comfort, one swear

Summary: an emergency backpack makes Jihoon’s day a little brighter.

A/N: this is a story I’ve had in my docs for nearly 4 years so I repurposed it into a Jihoon oneshot to get rid of my writers block lmao enjoy!

- Tae 🩷🌸✨

Masterlist

“Jihoon-ah?” An unknown voice filled Jihoon’s ears as he held the phone to his ear.

“Hyung,” his soft voice croaked.

“You’re calling fairly early. It’s not even 2pm yet. How was your date?”

Jihoon was holding a single rose in his hand, taking long strides towards the train station with a defeated look on his face as he let his legs take him to where he needed to go. To say he was disappointed was an understatement. No, he was crushed, if he was completely honest. But he wouldn’t let Seungcheol know that.

Said date was supposed to start at 12pm sharp. He didn’t know what he did wrong to make her stand him up. He did everything correct, he believed. She had given him her number, he was never disrespectful in their texts, and he was a complete gentleman to her. Her texts from the night before lead him to believe she was eager to see him again too. After a simple suggestion by her for a coffee date to get to know each other, Jihoon was disappointed as he sat and waited in the booth for over an hour before deciding to give up with slumped shoulders and a bruised ego. To top it all off, Jihoon had to get caught in a fucking heavy downpour of rain without and umbrella as he made his next move.

What a fucking day.

“I’ll be there in a few hours. I’ll text you.” Jihoon sighed quietly as he placed his phone back into his pocket, stepping onto the train, oblivious to the state that he’s in.

With a frown, he paced past each cart, frown only deepening when he sees almost every one full. Of course it’s his luck that on the one stormy day that he gets rejected and drenched with rain, he’d end up on the full train with standing room left.

Finally, with a grateful sigh, he sees the last cart has only one occupant, chewing his lip as he stepped inside, opening the door a fraction to see you alone.

Your head stays down, long curls curtailing your face from Jihoon, not noticing his presence as your pencil moves carelessly along your sheet of paper.

“Excuse me,” his voice is soft and timid as he steps into the cart. “May I?” He gestures to the empty double seat across from you. “Everywhere else is full.”

Jimin is shocked as your head lifts, adjusting your glasses as a small gasp falls from your pink lips. It was only then Jihoon realized his appearance. His grey T-shirt was now sticking to him, leather jacket just as tight as his drenched hair flops hazardously over his eyes. He almost flinches as you jump up quickly, discarding your fluffy wool sweater and taking a hold of his wrists, gently placing him down in your seat and sitting your coat on his knee. Wordlessly, he watches as you grab a small pink backpack from the ground, opening it up and pulling out a soft while towel and passing it to him with a sweet smile as he just stares in confusion.

“You’re the first person I can use my emergency backpack on, congratulations.” You smiled softly as he just stares. “Umbrella, spare towels, bandages, even a packed lunch, everything you could think of in an emergency.”

Jihoon was in awe. You were the first person today who had lent a kind hand to him, and he could feel the overwhelming emotions bubble in his chest.

“Please, put that sweater on,” you insisted quietly. “You’ll catch pneumonia otherwise.”

“Oh god, I’m in your seat…” Jihoon stuttered quietly as he began to rise.

“It’s directly under the heating. You need to dry.” You waved your hand dismissively, a grin washing over your features. “Please, use whatever you need.” You placed the backpack by his feet, Jimin chewing on his lip.

Come on, Jihoon, he thought to himself as he slipped the jacket off his shoulders, only to be filled with the warmth of your sweater seconds later, you can’t let your emotions get the best of you. Especially in front of a cute girl. He was shocked at his own thoughts, having been rejected mere minutes ago by another girl.

Jihoon softly started to pat down his damp hair with the towel, giving you a small but grateful smile in the process. You simply smile back, curling up on the seats opposite him and fiddling with the pencil in your hand. Jihoon couldn’t help but take in your appearance as you distracted yourself with your book. Thick rimmed glasses framed your round face perfectly, your light eyes scanning over your book. Your long hair, now having curled from the rain, sat against your shoulders as your foot bounced to an unknown beat, a soft hum complimenting the silence through your lips quietly. You were now only wearing a plain white shirt with a black skirt with pastel pink hearts adorning the fabric, complimenting your whole look with your pastel pink converse. Jihoon felt his cheeks flush when he noticed the small rose tattooed ever so delicately against the crook of where your inner arm meets your elbow, feeling himself shift in his seat as he looks at the drenched and wilted rose on the empty seat beside him, only reminding him of his shitty day he had experienced.

“Hmm.. fate?” Your voice breaks the silence as Jihoon’s dark eyes met yours in confusion. You gestured to the rose beside him and the one embedded in your arm, a small smile forming on your lips. “The rose. Maybe it’s fate we met.” You joked with a soft giggle as he gave you a quiet smile. “Sorry,” You whispered after a beat. “You seem like you’ve had a rough day..” you trailed off.

“Oh, no,” Jihoon interrupted quickly, neatly folding the towel and placing it on the seat beside him. “It’s actually helping, joking around.” He smiled a bit brighter now. “Thank you, again.. for the,” he gestured to the backpack, “emergency things.” He let the warmth of your sweater take over him, finally settling into his seat. “It’s nice to see someone worried about others. It’s refreshing.”

“That’s what I aim for!” Your bright grin lights up the whole room, Jihoon’s soul included as he can’t help but chuckle to himself. People like you were hard to come by, he thought to himself. Not many girls are so sweet and caring to others. You seemed the type to be so trusting and welcoming to others. “You don’t mind if I hum, do you? I tend to sing or hum while I work..” your cheeks start to turn a soft shade of pink. “I can stay quiet if you’d like to be alone with your thoughts.”

“No,” Jihoon smiled as he let his head rest on the window. “That’s fine, I think it’d make me feel a bit better, if you don’t mind, of course.” He chuckled at your relieved smile adorning your face, nodding softly as you turned to a fresh page of your book, your eyes sharp as you began to work.

“So, what brings you on this serendipitous ride to Busan, good sir?” You hum, not lifting your head as you scribble on your page. “Sorry, I should’ve asked for your name.”

“Jihoon.” He responds quietly, letting the warmth run through his body as it heats him up. “Ah.. decided to travel back home and see a friend of mine who lives there.”

“That’s always exciting, though.” You smile. “It’s always good to catch up with friends.”

Jihoon sighs for a moment. You’re so optimistic. He wishes he was feeling as optimistic as you were after his failed date.

“Yeah, that is true.” He agrees, his eyes fluttering shut. He feels a little guilty, letting sleep take over him so quickly. He feels like he should make more conversation with the kind stranger, but you don’t seem to mind, going back to humming and drawing as he falls into a dreamless sleep.

When Jihoon stirs and opens his eyes, he’s surprised to hear the voice of the conductor over the speaker announce that they have pulled into Busan Station. He quickly begins to rise from his seat before frowning in confusion.

There’s a heavy weight against him. He looks down to see a small blanket draped on him, probably from the emergency backpack you had given him. At the thought of you, he turns to look at the now empty seat across from him where you once sat.

He is a bit disappointed, he wanted to at least know your name to thank you for your small act of kindness. He frowns as he sees a single folded piece of paper and a now dried out rose sitting on top. Jihoon reaches out to take the rose, recognizing it as the rose he had on him as he boarded the train. He turns it over in his fingers for a moment before unfolding the piece of paper. His eyes widen as he sees a roughly scribbled sketch of himself leaning against the window of the train, watching the scenery go by. It is near perfect, in his opinion, and he is in awe by your skill. Looking down in the bottom right hand corner, Jihoon sees a small note.

Jihoon,

I hope your day gets better. Keep the backpack, please.

Sorry if this was insanely creepy. :)

Y/N.

He raises his eyebrows at your neat handwriting, his fingertips tracing over your name quietly with a little smile before quickly stuffing the blanket and your sweater into the backpack still by his feet to get off the train at the sounding of the last calls resounding over the speaker.

“Hey.” Seungcheol smiled as he spots his friend making his way towards him. “How was the trip?”

“Ah, was fine.” Jihoon hums, holding the small pink backpack over his shoulder as his friend’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Why did you bring a pink bag with you?”

“Oh.” He laughs, awkwardly tucking his hair behind his ear. “‘S a long story.”

“Ohhhkay.” Seungcheol looks confused but shrugs when he sees the contentment on Jihoon’s face.

“Are we ready to go?”

“Almost.” Seungcheol keeps looking around at the countless people walking around the meeting area. “My cousin is here somewhere too. We gotta pick her up and take her back to mine. Is that alright?”

“Sure.” He agrees quickly. “I technically hijacked your weekend anyway.”

“Oppa!” A happy voice calls out as Seungcheol chuckles, opening out his arms as he readies himself.

“Hey, you!” He calls, laughing as he scoops his cousin into his arms, Jihoon staring with wide eyes.

“Jihoon-ah,” Seungcheol grins as he places his cousin on the ground. “This is-”

“Y/N.”

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[blossomwritesthings]

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞. | 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

⬷ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab) // chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. college au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. friends to enemies to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining. cheating. abusive boyfriend/ex. drama galore. the sexual tension is REAL in this one.

content & warnings: depictions of domestic & verbal abuse are at the beginning of this chapter, please take care in reading. explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. felix is reader's estranged childhood bestie. chan is low-key an asshole in this ngl. heavy topics are mentioned such as: abusive/toxic relationships, cheating, and pathological lying. drinking/partying. the summer vibes are real in this one. there will be humor/fluff throughout to balance everything. and ofc smut too because who am i if not a whore for filthy felix smut. 😉

word count: 3.0k

summary: ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

a/n: I wrote this in a fitful manic episode yesterday morning when I should've instead been working on uni hw instead... that's the story of my fucking life, apparently. 💀 we're finally getting to the very climax of this entire fic ya'll... and I promise that this won't be dragged on forever lmao, so there's only a few chapters left to this series~ 😃

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

“You are nothing, and you’ll never be anything else besides the girl I fuck on the side,” Chris was saying to you with a deep sneer on his face. He was staring up at you, as he leaned in and kissed Yeji in a lewd kind of way there on the sofa. “I never loved you as much as her.”

 “I fucking hate you…” You started to seethe out in a low voice, your entire body shaking. Yet you couldn’t stop watching - couldn’t stop looking at the train wreck unfolding in front of you. “I fucking hate you so much, do you know that?!” 

 Chris raised an eyebrow your way at your screams, and soon, he was standing up from the couch, trailing over to you silently with brooding eyes and sloped shoulders. Yeji glared at the interruption, clocking you with a nasty frown as she looked on with disinterest. 

 Your ex reached out to you, and despite your best efforts, you weren’t fast enough for him. 

 Soon, he had his hands wrapped in your hair, yanking your head back to display the redness of embarrassment that dusted your cheeks and nose at that moment. 

 “Look at you- all worked up like a pathetic little bitch because you don’t have my attention any longer,” He grumbled, yanking on your roots a little harder and making you yelp out in pain. “You’re truly astonishing— thinking I’d ever love you enough to keep you around.” 

 Instead of replying to his cruel words, you just leaned forward and spit on him. It sprayed across his face, and instantly, you knew that it had been a mistake. 

 The fire in his eyes darkened, and before your mind could even register what was happening, he was pushing you to the side so hard, that you fell across the floor at his feet. One side of your face hit the hardwood with a resounding slap, pain immediately radiating across your left cheek.

 Soon, he was getting on top of you, hitting you across the cheek before taking hold of the column of your neck and beginning to squeeze. 

 The grip was so strong, you could feel your pulse racing at the base of your throat. Your heartbeats clamored in your ears, drowning out all other sounds - the way you could hear Yeji snicker in the background, and how he was saying something. 

 His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. 

 Instead, you could only feel the way the warm tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes, the way your limbs shook underneath Chris as he pinned you down to the floor. 

 “Stupid cunt- you think you have the right to spit on me?! I’ll teach you a lesson!” That’s the last words you caught before he squeezed even tighter. 

 The blackness took over everything, bleeding into the corners of your vision and blurring your surroundings. And soon, you were closing your eyes to stave off some of the hurt. To hide from the way the two of them looked on at you like that - their faces painted in evil streaks of crimsons and violets. 

 And for one last time, you let out a guttural, heart-wrenching scream. The kind that strained vocal cords and your throat and made your tongue feel heavy in your mouth. 

Too suddenly, you were being shaken. 

 At first, you thought it was Chris stirring you awake to torture you once more. 

 But, when you cracked your eyes open, you were met with glaring sunlight. The golden, yellow orb was hanging high in the sky, shining against a bright blue backdrop. It twinkled through the nearby curtained window, casting everything around you in a soft kind of hue. 

 Then, you realized the position you were in. And turning away from the window, you noticed… 

 Felix. 

 Laying right there beside you, in bed...

 In his bed. 

 And he was holding onto you - arms wrapped around your waist tightly. 

 He was the one who had been shaking you. 

 Shaking you awake. 

 Felix was staring at you, dark brows pulled together in concern and faded, blonde locks messy from the pillow he was lying on. Reaching out, he brushed a gentle finger underneath your chin, before resting his warm palm against your cheek. “Angel… are you alright?” He asked in a soft voice, swiping away your excess tears with the pads of his thumbs. 

 “I-I had a bad dream, that’s all.” You said, not being able to hold eye contact with him anymore and looking away. Slowly, you turned in his arms to catch small glimpses of his room. 

 It was almost the exact same as when you had last seen it, all those years ago, before he had left for Korea to attend university. His full bed frame was decorated with the seashells he had found on the nearby beach as a middle schooler, the ones he had glued into the wood with your help one weekend during the summer a decade before. He still slept with his dark blue comforter that was just as soft as you remembered it. The rest of his bedroom was decorated similarly, with dark blue and white accents throughout. 

 His desk was full of junk - crumpled-up papers and clothes and shopping bags. He was a spender, that was for sure. His nearby dresser had a collection of skincare products on top of it… ranging from different toners, about five moisturizers, and a bunch of other things you had no clue what the uses were for. 

 “Nothing’s changed in here.” You mused softly, turning on your side slowly so that he wasn’t holding onto you so tight. But Felix took your stirring as a sign that you wanted to be free of his grip, so he began to shift his arms away. “No— please, don’t.” You reached out to his retreating arms, already feeling the tears well up in your eyes again. “I— I need you right now.” 

 Felix gave you a faint smile, a tiny bit of his eyes sparkling in mirth as he reached out and pulled you even closer to him. Soon, you were nestled into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of musk and vanilla, and feeling comforted by his mere presence. 

 “We slept just like this, you know…” Felix began, and the sound of his voice so close to your ear sent a jolt of energy down the center of your spine. “You… you woke up when I got home and when I tried to sleep on the floor you were— were begging me to hold you. So I— I did.” And as he spoke, you could sense just a tad bit of hesitation from him. Like he felt uncomfortable telling you about the night before, afraid he'd possibly trigger you. 

 “Thank you,” You whispered, burrowing your face in the warmth of his t-shirt, half in embarrassment and half in sadness. “You’re always there for me when no one else is.” 

 “Not all of the time- not for the past four years.” 

 “I know- but that wasn’t your fault. You… You were just protecting yourself.” 

 Felix scoffed dryly, and there wasn’t an ounce of humor in the laugh. “Yeah— protecting myself, that’s what I was doing.”

 Slowly, you turned away from his chest and stared up at him. And only then did you realize how close the two of you were. You could practically feel his warm breath fanning against your cheek from the closeness. You could see every single dark freckle that was scattered in the constellation across his cheeks and nose. And on impulse, without even realizing it, you were reaching your hand out and brushing a few of your fingers against his smattering of freckles. You could feel the way he tensed up underneath the touch, holding your gaze as you studied his soft skin. 

 “You’re the single-most person to ever be there for me, no matter what, Felix,” You muttered in a low voice, tracing the slope of his nose and sharp jawline with your index finger. “And it doesn’t matter who was at fault for the last few years… it was both of us, I think. But despite all of that shit from the past— you came back to me. And you’re here now, unlike… other people in my life.”

 “Of course, I’ll always be here for you, y/n,” Felix started, clasping a warm hand over yours and squeezing it tightly, pressing your palm against his cheek and leaning into the touch ever so slowly. “And I’m sorry about the silence, from all of those years ago. It was shitty of me to do.” 

 “Yeah, I’m sorry too.” 

 “And I’m sorry about Chris— I… I should’ve warned you that—“

 “No. Don’t even start with that bullshit. You did nothing wrong. And besides, you tried to warn me. For such a long time. But I… I was blinded, like a stupid fucking idiot and I—”

 You felt slim fingers fitting across your mouth before you could say anything else, as Felix covered your lips to stop you from talking. “Do not call yourself that. You’re none of those things, I don’t care what Chris tries to tell you.” 

 Staring up at him, you saw all the emotions so clearly flowing through his eyes just then… adoration, sadness, and even anger. You swallowed down the feelings that were starting to bubble up around the lump that had formed in your throat from the night before. 

 “Do you… wanna talk about your dream?” Felix asked, hesitantly, like he had been wanting to bring up the subject but didn’t know how. 

 Your fingers grasped onto his wrist, pulling his hand back just gradually so that you could place a soft kiss against his open palm. Then you were guiding it back to your waist. 

 “It was— scary. He was scary in it, and… so was Yeji.” 

 “You know, you can cry about it if you want. This is a safe space for whatever you’re feeling right now.” 

 “Yeah, I know,” You flashed him a gradual, humorless smile. “I guess I’m just too exhausted to do anything else but lay here. I feel like— he doesn’t even deserve my time or emotional energy.” 

 “Well yeah, and you did cry yourself to sleep last night, so maybe that’s why you have no tears left.” 

 Your eyes widened in surprise at Felix’s words. But it made sense, from the way that your throat felt all scratchy and dry, and your eyes were puffy at the edges. “I bet I was a fucking mess last night.” Scoffing, you shook your head in disbelief. You wished you could’ve been stronger the night before, but at the time, you just had no more energy to fight off the feelings. 

 “A beautiful one, that’s for sure.” 

 Felix’s words were met with deafening silence for a few moments, as you processed them. All you could hear was the faint whirr of the nearby air conditioner wall unit and the soft lapping of waves against the shoreline just outside of his window. 

 Your eyes flicked up to him just then, and you raised a quizzical eyebrow to play off how badly his words had affected you. Shoving his shoulder playfully, you chuckled heartily. “Yeah, if you call runny mascara and a swollen face beautiful…” 

 After that, the room grew quiet once more. 

 But it wasn’t an awkward kind of quiet. It was the kind you had been so used to with Felix, the one that was comfortable and heartwarming. 

 And soon, you found your lips moving again and your voice flowing out once more. 

 “I should’ve known, that he would do something like this… I mean, he was the fucking star of the soccer team in high school. He had girls at his beck and call every single second of the day.” 

 “No one could’ve known, angel. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” 

 Felix’s words did little to soothe your racing heart and mind. 

 And while half of the emotions you were feeling were due to Chris and the fresh breakup, the other half were… things you didn’t know how to put a name to. Things you had no clue about. But all that you knew, what that they related to... Felix.

 “You did, Lix.” 

 Shrugging nonchalantly, Felix rolled his eyes dramatically to try and take some of the tension out of the stifling air around the two of you in bed. “I don’t count in this equation, ‘cause I always know these kinds of things.” 

 Slowly, you began to pull away from his arms. And the sudden absence of his hold around you forced anxious butterflies to stir in the pit of your stomach. But one look outside of the nearby window behind Felix, and you could tell that it was growing late in the morning. 

 “I was out all night- my parents will start to worry if I stay here any longer.” You said as an explanation when Felix tried to reach out to hold you again. Because as much as you wanted to stay there with him - basking under the warm sunlight and curling up against his side underneath the blankets - you also had other responsibilities to attend to. Like working at Angel Waves and studying for an upcoming exam you had. 

 “Don’t even worry about it, I understand.” Felix flashed you a gentle smile. But you knew him well enough - had grown up with him for most of your life - and you knew when he was feeling sad. Because at that moment, you supposed he would also feel your absence from his bed and arms. 

 It was only after you stumbled out of his sheets that you remembered what you had been wearing the night before on your date with Chris. The short, red mini-dress that he always loved. Too bad it wasn’t enough to keep him, though, the dark thought crossed your mind so quickly it was hard to stop it.But as quickly as it dawned upon you, you also decided to brush it away. 

 Because there was no use in crying over a man who didn’t love you. Who hadn’t loved you in probably a very long time. Who had been shanking you in the back with a knife since day one. 

 You could physically feel Felix’s gaze on you, as you awkwardly yanked down the sides of your dress. But it was so fucking short, it barely covered your ass. You reached down near the bed frame to pick up your purse and shoes that had been cast aside haphazardly. And when you stood up, Felix was already out of bed and right beside you, holding out a lengthy jacket. 

 “What’s this for?” You asked skeptically, as you took it from his hands. Raising a questioning eyebrow his way, you slipped it on and were immediately overcome with the familiar scent of him. It was comforting and pleasant and… made the butterflies in your stomach flitter around in a frenzy. 

 For a few moments, Felix’s gaze left yours and traveled down the expanse of your body, skirting up your legs and stopping somewhere at your… middle, before landing back on your face. From a few beats, a dark look crossed over his face. Like he was thinking about something entirely different than you covering up in his jacket. “Uhm— probably wouldn’t want your parents to see you wearing that when you walk in the front door this morning.” Felix chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his head like he always did when he was feeling awkward. 

 “It’s fine, I’ll just climb through my bedroom window.” 

 “Still, take it.” 

 “Why?” You said in a low voice, twirling around in your spot tauntingly with the jacket covering your shoulders. “Because it’s too... slutty?” 

 Felix gave you a deadpanned look, the sparkle in his irises twinkling just a little bit at your teasing. “No, I just mean that—“ 

 Laughing heartily at the way pink began to dust across his cheeks and the tip of his nose, you slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t worry about it Lix, I was just teasing ya.” 

 Just then, you caught sight of the clock that was on top of his dresser. The time read just past eleven in the morning. You could feel the anxiety beginning to rise inside of you as you realized how late it was... 

 And your mind registered just how long you had spent at his childhood house, in his bedroom, in his bed. With him. 

“Shit— it’s getting really fucking late, I gotta go!” You scrambled to slip your heels on, shouldering your small purse and wrapping the jacket a little tighter around your waist. Reaching forward, you grabbed Felix’s hand and squeezed it once. “Thank you so much, for everything. I owe you big time, Lix. Keep in touch, yeah?” 

 Felix tilted his head just marginally to the side, offering you an easy smile. “You don’t have to thank me, angel. It’s what... friends do.” 

 And the entire five-minute walk home, after you left Felix’s house, your mind kept repeating his last words to you over and over again. 

 But… 

 Friends don’t call each other beautiful, 

 Friends don’t hold each other in bed like that, 

 Friends don’t beg for the other not to let go, 

 Friends don’t kiss each other’s palms, 

 Friends don’t look at each other’s bodies with such a ravenous heat in their eyes, 

 Not like Felix had done just that morning when he looked you up and down. 

 Yes, friends definitely don't do any of that. 

To be continued...

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[gourmetjello]

könig x fem!reader : over-apologizer

i have no idea how to use tumblr. it’s my first time using it but i think i’m trying it out lol also lowercase warning (i’m sorry!) , i’m used to writing in 3rd person pov so that’s what i’m going to do for now plus english isn’t my first language so bear with me for now lmao

könig’s about 17 in this fic and it’s not really a fluff nor angst or smut or anything like that, just a little romance-ish story.

—

the cold, chilly air felt heavy on top of the many bunk beds that were scattered around the messy dorm room of about 30 young austrian and half german men. there was one singular wooden nightstand in one of the corners of the room, the drawers wide open and filled with empty glasses of all the different kinds of dirt cheap alcoholic beverages you could think of. it was the first day of many newcomers and many of them were cocky enough to bring some drinks to celebrate their first night here.

one bottle was leaking inside the drawer as someone probably failed to put the lid back on perfectly, the rough, clear liquid leaking in small droplets. a part of the wooden surface was soaked with this disgusting liquid that smelled like straight up acetone. the faint scent of it obviously spread to the entirety of the whole room, however the boys felt comfortable even in an odor like this — they were mostly teenagers, after all.

a boy’s head was right next to the nightstand as his bed was the closest to the corner, his forehead was almost touching the wall of the piece of furniture that smelled oh so bad. he was the only one that was wide awake in this whole room full of snoring soon to be soliders. he silently breathed the smell in again, not knowing what to do with the fact that he was exhaling something that stung his nose so much — he wanted to yank the drawer out and just simply throw it away, but then he would have to pay for the harm the caused and he obviously had no money, just like everyone else here.

he turned and tossed around in the bed as his legs were hanging off of it, and as uncomfortable it seemed he totally accepted it. it’s not like he could magically make himself any shorter. he leaned down to grab the small plastic shot glass that was next to his bed on the floor — his hand blindly wandered around, fingers finally bumping into the thin material of the tiny cup. he slowly lifted it up, not too surprised to realize that it still had something inside it. the young man sat up in his bed, his head softly bumping into the bottom of the mattress above his bad. he totally forgot that he was in a bunk bed. he wasn’t used to this.

rustling of the bedsheets could be heard as he muttered a few curse words under his breath and decided to just go bottoms up with whatever was in that tiny cup. a little piece of yesterday lingered in his body now, at least.

something, that nobody was really expecting came — a sharp sound filled the room, waking everyone up from their coma-like, desperate and drunken sleep. a morning call echoed through the entire dorm, a tall and old-ish looking man in a full camouflage outfit basically breaking their door in as the doorknob made a sound that totally felt like it broke.

“good morning men!”

‘holy shit. it really is happening, our first day’ — thought literally nobody in this cold room. the solider could obviously smell the horrible odor in the room but decided to ignore it as they would have to learn how to get up this early, hungover or not.

as the tall young man was already awake, it didn’t take too long for him to actually get out of bed first. he expected a gentle praise or something at least for listening to the command of the man in the doorway, but the guy seemed totally uninterested in whatever was going on in the room. he just cared about waking up these boys and finally showing them what they signed up for and showing them no mercy. people in the military apparently just had an odd thing for breaking young soliders.

the bread they got for breakfast almost fell out of their mouths as the men from their room were basically barely functioning on one percent. their eyes were barely open as the small digital clock in the cafeteria read 6:12 am. they could barely touch the cup of milk in front of them, almost spilling it all over themselves while trying to drink it.

there was just one guy that sat alone at a desk, all by themselves. he didn’t really choose to be alone, he obviously wasn’t that big of a freak, but all the other tables were already filled and there was no space left for him. he didn’t really care about it too much, he was used to being alone — it was exactly why he joined the military. he almost expected this to happen and if he was going to be neglected by people like this his whole life, then he might as well just try to get rid of them somehow. as far as he knew, you could legally be a cold-blooded killer in the military, right? especially as a sniper.

his eyes scanned the others in the cafeteria, looking over to the females. they were in their camouflage-print jackets too. he was obviously a teenage boy so he tried to find someone to stare at, someone who looked like a dream come true, but fuck, he couldn’t even see who had big breasts as the loose uniform concealed their body shape perfectly.

while his eyes were still desperately scanning the girls in the area, he didn’t even notice that someone sat down next to him with a plastic plate in their hands. it was yet another man. he reached out and tapped the left shoulder of the guy that he just wanted to sit down next to, grabbing her from his spiraling thoughts.

“hey, would you mind if i sit here?” the guy asked. he had short curly hair and a face full of seemingly cystic acne. definitely a face that would scare off people, especially girls.

he totally caught him off guard, the taller boy flinching a little in surprise — “uh, no, it’s fine.”

“yeah. thanks, man. i wanted to sit here because, um, look.” the man spoke as he pointed towards the little velcro strip on his chest that was on the camouflage uniform. “we’ve got the same last name. you’re a könig too! quite common, eh?”

“that’s cool.”

“we have to friends after this, dude!”

“yeah.”

“and.. okay, look at that girl over there..” the guy pointed at a girl that seemed a little like she couldn’t find her place in this huge cafeteria filled with people in the exact same clothes. what a maze to get lost in, he couldn’t even blame her for that. “we used to go to the same school and gosh.. it’s a shame that she’s the only person that i know for now. i wish i knew someone cooler instead.”

könig seemed totally uninterested but the person sitting next to him wouldn’t shut up about whatever he was blabbering about. he barely even paid attention to his speech. “she’s so lame. she never talks, like, bro, how can you go a day without talking? so weird, am i right?”

“mhm.”

they didn’t have too much time for breakfast nor basically anything else they wanted to do. the day went by rather quickly and when they finally returned to the dormitory there was basically nothing left from their hungover ego they still had earlier. throughout their first day, they were made fun of, humiliated and stepped on, as expected. some people were desperately writing letters to their loving mothers, saying they wanted to give up on the whole ‘save your country’ and ‘keep our families safe’ image and they wanted to go home.

könig was laying in his bed as he couldn’t sit up comfortably and he was just thinking about what to do now. the room was silent and just filled with occasional groans of people that were in pain. sore muscles were basically something to be considered everyday things here, you’ll learn to live with them eventually. he sighed and gently reached into the only backpack he brought with himself here. he found it unnecessary to pack too many clothes as they were going to get uniforms anyways. the only things he needed were underwear.

his fingers looked around the bottom of the backpack for a few seconds until he finally found what he was looking for. he took it out with unreasonably shaky hands — it was a single cigarette he had rolled for himsef back on the platform of the railway station when he waited for the train to come. it was the only one he had left as he ran out of filters to put into the little stick that was a such a guilty pleasure of his. he knew that they probably wouldn’t care if he started smoking it in the room, but he already wanted to just feel something, some kind of danger.

he joined the military to feel action and thrill, to shoot people without being punished for it and not to be hungover all the time and to judge others in the cafeteria (however he loved trying to peek at the girls). he gently stepped off his bed, walking over to the dark and unpolished window they had in the room. he firstly tried to just open it, he examined it and he simply looked like someone who was trying to open it to get a mouthful of fresh air. however, when the tall man gently folded himself in a way that he could climb out on the window, many people immediately turned their heads towards him.

könig was lucky that they were on the floor level. he landed in a small bush that was basically nothing for him, climbing out of it with ease.

his heart was beating in his throat when he noticed someone a few meters away from him. they were in a camouflage outfit, very clearly in the uniform. the person he saw was crouching down, closely next to the wall. when he saw how the figure seemed feminine he immediately relaxed — there’s no way anyone from the staff would be a woman, right?

the shadow flinched once she heard the sounds of the bush moving, and when her eyes ran over the dark figure of a person, her body immediately began shaking. ‘fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m getting kicked out. i’m getting kicked out’ - was the only thing she could think about as she quickly pushed away whatever she was doing with her trembling and cold fingers. tobacco and a few little pieces of paper spilled all over the ground under them, getting all dirty and muddy.

the tall man towered over her as he stepped closer. all she could see was this huge shadow next to her crouching form, he could easily just step on her. he seemed like he could break her spine with just a snap of his fingers and maybe that was the initial source of her fear — she even forgot how scared she was of someone from the staff being the man in front of her. at that point, she was just begging for the gods she barely believed in to let her keep her life. she was silently pleading in her mind.

“gosh, you wasted it all.”

she heard the deep voice and she knew it was over for her. she thought she was going to throw up all over the place because of how shaky and nervous she was. and this was only her first day in the military!

“you roll it too? can’t afford packs?” he quickly raised his hand, the clumsily rolled cigarette hanging between his index and middle finger.

this couldn’t be staff.. right?

“it’s not mine! it’s not mine. it’s not-“ she spoke desperately. her voice was weak and shaky.

“then why would you be doing it, hm?”

she hesitated for a few seconds before thinking of an answer. she already embarrassed herself too much, there was no backing out now. absolutely no backing out, she was past the point of no return, or so she thought. he still stood there, above her and staring down.

“it’s for, um.. someone else. it’s for someone else. könig. it’s for könig.” she tried to stop stuttering so it wouldn’t be so awkward and embarrassing for her. beinh caught was already uncomfortable enough, but what kind of monster was standing in front of her?

“könig?”

“yeah. he’s um.. he came here yesterday. just like me. and he’s.. like, short, curly hair and- and, uh..”

“yeah, stand up. stand up, come on.”

“i don’t-“

“stand the fuck up already.”

the girl shakily stood up, her head perfectly looking into the chest area of the man in front of her. the velcro strip above his heart read an oddly familiar name — könig. she was stunned for a second, not knowing what to say and she accidentally choked on the air she was just gasping after. “w-what did you-“

“don’t act like he’s the only person with the last name könig. you’re being stupid. what is a woman even doing in the military? i get it, that dickface is trying to prove it to everyone that he’s the shit, but come on? you? are you here to do every little thing he desires or what?”

her eyes widened as the tall man in front of her mentioned her doing everything for that jerk. she tried to think of a way to defend myself. who even was this man? she couldn’t see his face. too tall. and it was too dark outside.

“i’m sorry, i-“

“what?”

“i’m sorry, i really am, just..”

“why would you be sorry?”

“i, um..”

könig raised an eyebrow as his lips gently curled into a small smile. she was the first person he actually talked to in the military. he couldn’t believe that the first person he would get into a conversation with (or at least something like that..?) was the person that that fucker in the cafeteria was talking about. the girl that’s apparently such a lame person because she doesn’t talk too much. hm.

“yeah. see. you don’t even have anything to be sorry for, i just asked you a question and you’d rather apologize than give me an answer. cunt behavior.”

“i’m-“

“don’t you dare say that again.”

“o-okay. i just.. i’m sorry for me being so-“

and just like that, könig slightly leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in an instant.

it all happened in the span of a few moments. he immediately felt how she was licking her lips in the cold as a reaction to the stress she suddenly got into, since he could taste the saliva on her chapped and shaky lips. his body was warm and hers was cold, just like ice. he could have even placed a bet that her lips were purple, from the fear and the chilly air outside.

he was a little bold for someone who had never kissed anyone before — but he needed to make her shut up somehow. he had enough of her apologizing so much.

—

eek! that’s my first oneshot ever here on tumblr !! i really really hope you liked it and please let me know somehow if i did something wrong. no idea how to use this app. and if you have any ideas on what i should write about then please let me know ! or, well, if there is a way to let me know ?

also please don’t reupload or steal or anything (is that a thing here?)

good night!

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ P l o t ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Leon and the reader get separated after the events of the RE2 remake.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ N o t e ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ I don't know where I'm going with this so bear with me lmao. I was thinking of turning this into a series, with some time skips to RE4, RE6, and so on. For now, I'm scheduling this for two chapters, but if you like it and want more I can extend the story. I don't write for Leon often, so please tell me if I did it right. Your feedback is really appreciated!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ P a i r ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Leon Kennedy x Reader;

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨T a g s ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ fluff, angst, and a bit steamy at the end.

Ko-fi || Patreon

The train finally stopped at the end of the line after a long and silent ride. Claire and Sherry fell asleep on the bench while you spent the ride in Leon's arms. None of you talked about what happened; you were just happy to be alive.

When you reached your final stop, everyone was eager to exit the train to breathe the fresh air. The morning sun was too strong for your sensitive eyes, which got used to the darkness. Still, all of you were grateful for the warming sensation that caressed your sore bodies.

After a very long walk filled with Sherry's silly and funny questions, you managed to find a gas station. The cashier was weirdly watching all of you, and who could blame him? Everyone was dirty and bloody, with an expression of sorrow and regret on their faces. The only one who seemed relatively normal was Sherry, but maybe she was just good at hiding her pain.

All of you walked around the store under the judgmental eyes of the cashier, trying to find some affordable supplies.

"Do you have any money on you?" Leon was a bit concerned.

"Yeah, I think I can cover the water."

"Good."

A soft smile appeared on his face. It wasn't because of you; no, it was just a simple thing that made him happy. Still, that smile warmed you, and you wished you could've stayed and watched him a few seconds longer, just to make sure you'd never forget it.

"Shit, if I knew that we'd end up here, I would've robbed a few cash registers on the way," Leon said as he picked some sandwiches.

You giggled as you picked up some protein bars.

"That would've come in handy right now."

All of you placed the products on the counter and waited for the cashier to finish scanning. You watched anxiously as the sum increased, exceeding the number you had in your pockets. The total felt heavy, and everyone began to empty their pockets.

"It's all we have, sir." Claire said, after he counted the money and realized it was not enough. He gave you a long stare, but before he would say anything, Leon intervened.

"C'mon, man, we had a rough night."

"Please, mister," Sherry added.

The guy looked at all of them again and let them go.

"Now we need a ride." You said as you walked out.

A random man just came in and passed by you, ignoring your presence completely. He had his convertible outside, probably with a full tank.

"He won't notice it's missing," Claire said as she boldly approached the vehicle. "Sherry, keep an eye."

"Wait, what are you doing?" Leon asked, worried.

"What does it seem I'm doing? I'm getting us a ride."

"Claire no."

"Do you want to walk to the next city?" She asked, ready to hotwire the car.

"I don't know. No, of course not, but stealing is not okay."

You couldn't help but smile because of how cute Leon was at that moment. Even after he went through hell last night, he still maintained some of that rookie innocence.

"Guys, hurry; I think he is coming," Sherry said, alarmed.

"Come one." Leon scoffed as everyone got in the car. Before the man realized it, the car was long gone. His wallet was in there. Maybe luck was starting to be on your side.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　

Sadly, when you got to the nearest town, Claire had to go on her own to find her brother, Chris, leaving you, Leon, and Sherry in a hotel. She took the car but left you the cash and cards you found.

"Are you sure you want to do this on your own?" You were a bit concerned. After all, you three destroyed an Umbrella facility and survived the mess they created. That will backfire at some point.

"I'm sure. It's my brother; I've got to do this on my own." You hugged her and held her tight for a few seconds. Claire was an amazing person, and you didn't know if you were ever going to see her again.

"Take care," Leon said as he hugged her too. He didn't want her to go, but he couldn't force her to stay either. To be honest, he thought that all of you would stay together to figure out the next move. Claire's leave saddened him a little.

The most affected was Sherry. She glued herself tightly to Claire's body and hardly let go.

"Take care of them for me, ok?" She said it in a brittle voice.

Sherry nodded and joined you and Leon, watching Claire go in the car and drive far away in the distance.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　

Leon thought it would be best to have separate rooms, one for you and Sherry and one for him. He wanted some time alone to cope with everything that happened: the outbreak, the countless deaths, the loss of Ada, and Claire's departure. He didn't know about the destruction of Raccoon City yet.

Leon locked the door behind him and sighed. The room was modest, with orange and yellow tones, a small TV on a table in front of a queen-sized bed, a bathroom next to the entrance, and a cloth hanger. The first thing he did was close the curtains. He wasn't there for the view.

Leon knew he should get some rest, but the events of the previous night kept hunting his mind. The screams, the lies, the blood, and the monsters took their turn to torment the young rookie, who was fidgeting around the room.

Suddenly, a powerful smell hit him and almost made him puke. After a few sniffs, he realized he was the source of the reek, and hurried into the bathroom to take a hot shower. The warm water was a blessing on his beaten skin, and he lingered there hoping that the water would also wash away his memories and guilt. Sadly, it didn't have the desired effect, but at least he smelled nice.

Leon didn't have any clean clothes around but a white bathrobe. Feeling tired he lay on the bed trying to get some sleep. Frustration begins to build up the more he kept squirming in bed.

"God damn it," he said, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. He kept fidgeting until he found a comfortable decision, but his relief was short-lived when his mind started to play with him once more. He needed answers—lots of answers. Who was behind all of this? Why was Umbrella developing all those monsters? And most importantly, what happened to Raccoon City?

Defeated, he got up from the bed and went to the minibar to search for alcohol. A gentle knock on the door got his attention.

"Come in," he said, and a smile appeared on his face when he saw you standing in the doorframe, waiting for him to invite you inside. You wore a bathrobe too.

"Thanks," you said as you closed the door behind you. "How are you holding up?"

"I had better days," he confessed. "How's Sherry?"

"Well, we didn't talk much about what happened. We washed then we watched some cartoons. After that, she fell asleep. The kid was exhausted. I wanted to sleep but I couldn’t…because of…” you paused, trying to ignore all the flashbacks that came to you.

“Yeah, I know…” Leon added gloomily.

“Anyway, I decided to check on you. Figured you weren’t sleeping.”

"How kind of you," he said while opening the small door of the fridge.

"They don't have any alcohol. I checked first thing when I came in the room."

"Damn it. Then why do they have it on the menu?"

You shrugged.

"Beats me. It’s what we get for the money we paid. I mean, the rooms are pretty cheap; it's not like we will get quality service." You said.

"Damn, and I really thought we'd get top services here. I really wanted a valet to park my Lamborghini."

"If a valet is an old security guard sleeping on duty, then you're halfway there."

"Yeah, all I need now is a Lambo."

You both laughed, but the moment lasted shortly, and Leon dragged himself to the bed, where he sat on the edge. Then he rested his head on his palms and sighed.

This drastic and sudden change in his demeanor scared you a little because you knew it was becoming harder and harder for him to hide his pain behind silly jokes. In front of you, there was a broken man who suffered terribly after what happened in Raccoon City and who was now carrying the burden of being one of the few survivors. You sat next to him, and you began to gently caress his back.

"Why did they allow this to happen? Why didn't I come sooner?" He said it in a brittle voice.

"If you came early, then you would've been long dead. And you wouldn't have met me, Claire, and Sherry."

"Yeah, but still..."

"Leon, there is nothing you could've done to prevent this. Please stop torturing yourself." You pressed your body against his and held him tight. One of your arms slid across his chest, while the other went over his back. Leon grabbed your hand and held it tightly.

"I'm sorry; I just don't wanna lose you too."

"Leon..."

He rose, and now you were on the same level. His blue eyes were staring at you, expressing both need and sorrow. He needed you to be there for him.

His palms fell to his knees, and your right hand was still in his gentle and warm grip. You raised your left arm, your delicate fingers brushing away some strands of blond hair from his forehead. Once you started to gently caress his temples with your fingertips, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the pleasure that a gentle touch brought him after so many hours of hell.

"I'm here, Leon, and I'm not going anywhere."

"That sounds so good."

You locked eyes again. His grip tightened, and your palm was resting on his face now, your big thumb caressing his bruised cheek.

"Promise you'll be here for me too."

"Promise."

He closed the space between you, and soon your lips touched. It was a delicate, shy kiss in which you kept pressing your lips over and over onto each other. His hand let go of yours just to move to your waist and join the other one. You cupped his face and kept him close as the kiss became more and more passionate.

Tag list: @shadow-wolf510 @skylar-todd @lunarastrobabe @ravenrune @alewesker @rokurodokuro (if you want to be added dm me🤗).

Oh and on a small note, the next chapter will be steamy :)

[sparrow-in-the-field]

10 Question for 10 Writers

Thanks for the tag, @strangethings-everywhere!

1. Is writing a hobby or a way of life?

I mean technically it is a hobby, but can it not be a way of life too? Lol. Seriously though, I get like, grumpy or really down if I go too long without writing; it's my passion/creative fuel in life, so yeah.

2. A journal full of notes or a clean completed manuscript?

Clean manuscript. I don't really journal much; I have some stuff jotted down in my notes app in my phone, but most of my brainstorming just happens in my head lol, so then I write it down and edit it in manuscript.

3. Who or what inspired your writing?

I'm not really sure! As a kid I had a huge imagination, I loved playing pretend more than anything, so I think as I grew up, since I couldn't play anymore, I took to writing down the stories I thought up instead. In general though, I find music incredibly inspiring; I get my best ideas (and best writing too) while listening to good music.

4. Which is worse: Someone you ‘idolize’ reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Oh lord, listening to me sing is worse. I can't sing! Lmao. I'm pretty happy with my writing, though, and like, if the person knows it's a first draft, they should be more lenient anyway lol.

5. Has writing from someone else’s POV changed your perspective?

tbh I don't super understand this question. Like I'm still the one writing it? so it has to be my perspective to a degree? I guess writing different POVs makes me consider things on a deeper level and to explore things maybe I don't instinctively think, but like, I still got there, so it's still kind of my perspective?? Maybe my brain is just broken lol sorry.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

ao3 my beloved! It's the only ff site I've ever used (I was a late bloomer to entering the world of ff, I didn't get into it until my mid twenties) and I can't imagine going elsewhere. Tumblr is fun to post shorter/less edited stuff on too though.

7. AO3 word count? And are you satisfied with it?

On my sparrow-in-the-field account it's 220,866. On my older ao3 account it's 944,120 (figures I lost inspo for that fandom so close to a milly lolol; maybe someday I'll get back to it). Yeah I'm satisfied! Who cares lol, I just write what I wanna write and it ends up however long it's gonna end up.

8. What movie/book gripped you irrevocably?

Ohh that's tough! I mean besides the obvious grip that tbitb has on me currently...I guess I'll say The Series of Unfortunate Events (the books). I'm kind of unusual as a writer in that I actually didn't like reading as a kid, and this series was like, the first time I truly enjoyed and was captured by books.

9. What’s the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

I'm lucky enough that it's happened a handful of times throughout my ff writing, but when people share with me that my fic was healing or gave them needed comfort during a hard time. I genuinely can't think of anything that means more to me than that; writing is so cathartic and healing for me, that passing on that love and support to the reader is just so incredibly special to me. I literally sit and feel so thankful when people share something like that with me, I never want to take it for granted.

10. What defines your writing style?

Dialogue. I write such dialogue heavy stories, it's what comes naturally to me. Long descriptions are the enemy lol. Trope-wise, I'm big on hurt/comfort and angst with a happy ending.

I definitely don't have ten people to tag lol but I'll at least tag @dogwooddiaries ! (no pressure though ofc)

[cyncerity]

Karlnapity 🥺

(they are my absolute favs if you can not tell lol)

SAME SAME SAME SAME

actually i’m in the process of making a new karlnapity au rn so hopefully i might be able to post stuff for that soon 👀 (nothing super lore driven, i don’t have the mental capacity for that cause college so it’s gonna be a goofy romcom type au with some minor angst)

in the meantime here’s some more art from the high school binder <3

all these are from 2022 again so i might redraw them cause i’m still really proud of these designs <3

this is from the Bet on the Crown au which i’m still working on, actually i have a wip from like a year ago that’s still not posted cause i’m me 👍

anyway i think i’ve mentioned Karl, he’s crown prince of Kinoko Kingdom and an elf. Elves have natural magic like Endermen do, but instead of releasing it through spells they have to get intricate tattoos. The amount of tattoos and style of them depend on the type of magic an elf has. Karl’s got two full arm sleeves and can manipulate time.

I don’t think i’ve talked about Sapnap and Q yet. Sapnap is prince of the Nether and he was kinda forced by his dads to make a move on Karl so he could improve his kingdom’s relationship with the overworld, which he was upset about til he met him and promptly fell in love. They get engaged and shortly after find a shadowy shape shifting thing trying to steal from the palace. They arrest it and someone (probably Purpled) has to come out from a far off kingdom called Las Nevadas and be like “hey that’s our king and we regrettably need him, can we have him back?” So thing turns out to be a dude and apologizes, saying that he was looking for a friend who got lost on his way up here. They give him permission to stay until he finds his missing friend, and long story short they now have a third fiancé and ties with another kingdom. (they also do end up finding the missing friend; he was a slime who’d chosen to hide in a pot because why tf not, and he’d gotten stuck when someone put something heavy on top)

anyway yeah sorry i know you didn’t ask to be bombarded with lore but uh yeah i’ve had these designs and ideas since 2022 and honestly it all just came spilling out lmao

[saikokirakira]

Breaking the Curse (pt. 2 of 3)

word count: 6.1k (this one's a big boi)

a/n: okay, anyone still here? *echoes* no one? that's cool. i turned back on my word again and not only updated really late but still haven't finished this part of the story. i know all of you are just eager to see jake at this point.

i tried. really. had an outline and everything to get on track, but still managed to pull out 6k words. there isn't even a lot of moon bois here, but on the final part (FINAL I SWEAR), more moon bois. enough of my bullshit. lmao.

still, i managed to really love writing this massive boi. very heavy on philippine mythology here, and i definitely mixed each region deities on purpose. don't come at me for that.

Prev: Breaking the Curse (pt. 1) | AU Masterlist

warnings: ANGST; betrayal/stabbing people in the back (and front); violence/death; steven hate crime; marc needs a hug; non-canon Philippine mythology; non-canon depiction of babaylans (Filipino shamans); messed-up narcissistic gods; exposition in Bakunawa's mind palace; lost memories, memory loss

“Oh, God, there’s another one,” Marc groaned, while you pointed out, “There’s two of you?”

“Love!” Steven exclaimed and pulled you into his arms, completely ignoring the golden-eyed look standing right in front of him. Then he gripped your shoulder and pulled you at arms’ length. “Wait, if you’re on board the Duat, that means…”

“She died too, Steven,” Marc said, still eyeing Bakunawa cautiously. “You were supposed to keep the ushabti and Layla safe. Now, she’s likely to be going on a suicide mission.”

“Why are you blaming me?” you snapped back. “You’re the one who tried to fight off Harrow without the suit.”

“Uh, guys?”

“Not now, puppy,” you said off-handedly then turned back to Marc. “Besides, I healed your dead body, so once I break the curse, I can send you back.”

“Uh, guys…?”

“Steven, the adults are talking,” Marc once again shushed Steven without sparing him a glance. “That’s what Steven and I are doing,” he pointed at the scales that were swinging from end to end. “Besides, what can that snake do anyway?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “Bakunawa is a deity of the underworld,” you paused, glancing at the boat and the endless sea of sand off board. “Well, one of them anyway. I can get you back to the living, release him to his true form, and defeat Ammit if I break the curse.”

“Oh, because that’s definitely a piece of cake for you.”

“GUYS!”

“What?!” you and Marc chorused.

“Is that right?” Steven asked, pointing at the unnatural purple and golden sky. Somewhere far off, the golden patches started to glow brighter, sending off a rumbling noise. Well, shit.

“We’re running out of time. That’s not good,” you said, keeping the panic at bay.

“You know what that is?” Marc asked.

“First-generation gods,” Bakunawa sneered. “They know we’re here. We have to go now.”

“You think it’s them that did this?”

“No, but I know they’re not happy you’re trying to bring someone back to the living plane, including me,” Bakunawa cattily replied.

“We should all try to get back as quickly as possible then,” you said. You turned to Marc, tilting your head to the corner of the boat. “A word?”

Marc nodded and followed your lead while Steven gingerly stepped close to Bakunawa and tried to make small talk. “So… why do you have my face?” Unfortunately, his starter wasn’t strong and only made Bakunawa annoyed.

“I won’t be going back.”

It was definitely not what Marc expected because the shock was written all over his face. “But you just sa—”

“I know what I said,” you interrupted. “Summoning fallen deities are tricky. With Khonshu, he has the moon, but for beings like Ammit or Bakunawa… they need life, souls to be taken”

“You’re going to give him your body so he can reach his full form.”

“My body back there will be ripped apart by the transformation,” you said, “but… it’s the only way we have a shot defeating Harrow and Ammit. Bakunawa, you and Layla.”

“Do you think Steven should be the one to hear this?” Marc said.

You chuckled dryly. “He’s never going to let me do this. Besides, it’ll make goodbyes harder.”

“You’re not really giving him a chance to say it.”

“I know,” you said. “I’ve always been unfair to him, lied to him. I failed to protect him… and you. He deserves more than that.” Your eyes began stinging at the unshed tears pooling. “It’s too late anyway. I’m dead either way.” You quickly looked down to keep them out of Marc’s sight.

For the first time, Marc showed you comfort by cupping your face, lifting your head up. “Hey, hey,” he said. “We both failed. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for that.” His thumbs gently stroked away a couple of rogue tears that traitorously fell. “I’ve been hard on you. I’ve been unfair to you, and for what it’s worth, I see you.”

Behind tear-filled eyes, you stared up at Marc. Those last three words, you didn’t expect. It was true that he was hard on you, but you understood it as him being overly protective of Steven. You never blamed him for it. There was a tremendous amount of pain he was trying to hide from Steven – and even Layla – and you understood that, also lived by that.

It was those last three words that you truly understood Marc’s feelings for you. He wasn’t cross with you because he thought you were a danger to Steven — well, for the most part. Marc saw parts of himself in you. You both saw Steven as a reminder of your innocence, of what left was good in you, as someone you wanted to fiercely protect. While he couldn’t redeem himself what he done in his past, he wanted you to be at peace with yourself.

Anguish, love, regret, sadness – you saw it all and more in Marc’s eyes. This time, you held Marc’s face, finally seeing him beyond his rough-edged exterior, and he immediately leaned into your palms. You may not know what demons he has been facing, but the pain was all too familiar.

“I wish it was different,” you said, pulling him down to press a gentle kiss on his forehead. Then on the crease between his furrowed brows, on the tip of his nose, before finally on his lips. Just a brief one but enough to make Marc sigh into your mouth, grab at your waist.

“Take care of Steven for me. Be happy. Patch things up with Layla, okay?” Reluctantly and almost painfully, you broke free from Marc’s hold and ran to the doors back inside the Duat.

“Love!”

You halted in your steps and looked back at Steven, looking scared and lost. You did that. Your bottom lip quivered at the thought of having to break his heart again. “Bye, Steven,” you said with a heart-wrenching smile before stepping through the doors.

The doors shut behind you and sent you in the middle of the woods again, only this time it was in the middle of the night with the full moon as your only source of light. You carefully treaded through towering balete trees and thick shrubbery trying to make sense of where you were going. Somehow, the trail was familiar, but the greenery was also different, much healthier, much more alive.

“Bakunawa!” you called out. You turned around to see the door you came from was now gone, and the deity didn’t seem to have followed you on your impulsive walk-out. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m going.”

As soon as you grumbled, your foot sank in a little stream. There was water nearby. Since you didn’t have much of a choice, you followed the water to wherever it may take you rather than walking around in circles in the woods.

At the edge of the tree line, you found yourself at the edge of a large body of water of two distinct shades – an estuary. A man was standing in the middle of the water basking himself in the moonlight. It was an ethereal sight.

The man didn’t look human. His long black hair was half submerged in the water, tinting it black as it flowed along the stream. The golden-lined teal robes he wore almost felt one with the water, yet the moonlight reflected off the material like iridescent scales. Finally, when he opened his eyes to follow a rustling sound from the other edge of the tree line, you almost gasped at the glowing serpentine eyes, golden as the threads on his robe.

It was Bakunawa, and you were in his memories.

Suddenly, a sharp whipping noise tore through the quiet wind, and an arrow struck Bakunawa through the shoulder. A loud monstrous scream broke out of his lips as he dove back into the water. A hooded archer from where you heard the noise ran to the shoreline, loading their bow again and aiming for the rippling of the water.

But the ripples calmed, and the water stilled.

Just like the calm before a storm, a loud splash burst out from the deep water and out emerged Bakunawa in his true dragon form. He was pissed. Definitely pissed. The archer wasn’t helping either as they continued to shoot at their deity, who now was soaring through the night sky and evading each arrow.

Bakunawa peaked from the sky, halted, before diving straight down, aiming for the archer. The offender decided to make a run for it but only made a few yards away from the tree-line. Bakunawa landed on the archer, pinning them to the ground with a giant claw.

“Foolish mortal,” Bakunawa spat out. “Why on earth do you try to take down a deity with no magic to defend yourself?” With his other claw, he crushed the bow that fell a few feet away from the archer during their attempted escape. “And you had to ruin my robes. Just when the night was so splendid.”

Realising that you weren’t going to be noticed, you stepped forward and out of hiding to get a closer look at Bakunawa and his attempted murderer. During their struggle, their cloak had come loose, and the hood fell away from their face. Gone was their ill-mannered attempt and was replaced with the panic of angering a deity. A man-eating one at that.

“Please,” a woman’s voice said. “I only wish to prove to my village that I am worthy despite being born without magic.”

Bakunawa scoffed, licking at his wounded shoulder before snarling at the woman. “And you thought a deity’s head would be a good idea instead of gaining a god’s blessing?”

“My prayers fall on deaf ears,” she said, almost spitefully. “They are left unanswered for years, while my younger sisters are abundantly blessed with magic.” Then she closed her eyes and laid back against the rocks, finally struggling no more. “You have already taken what has given me worth in my village,” she continued, referring to her now-crushed bow. “If you wish to devour me, I only ask you do it swiftly.”

Bakunawa opened his jaws, exposing rows of sharp teeth. He had seemed to show a sick enjoyment of the woman’s scared whimpers before he huffed and stepped away. “If you think your worth only lies on a measly little bow, you are a far pathetic hunter than I thought. Leave.”

The woman sat up, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She watched as Bakunawa curled his body in itself and continued to bask in the moonlight a few feet away from her but now rather uncomfortably. After a few seconds of collecting herself, the woman got to her feet and began picking up the broken pieces of her bow.

“Didn’t I just tell you to leave?!” Bakunawa snapped with an annoyed roar. “Leave it, and get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

The woman jumped and dropped the pieces from being startled. She pulled the hood over her head and began to run back into the woods. However, she stopped behind a tree and lingered for a moment, her eyes watching the snoozing dragon carefully.

“That’s when I first met her.”

You jumped when a voice spoke from behind you. “Jesus, Bakunawa,” you cursed, seeing him now in his human form instead of being a Steven impostor. “Where have you been?”

“Same as you, watching.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?” you asked.

Bakunawa was silent before he began walking away.

“Hey! Wait!” you called out, almost tripping over a fallen branch. You were more impressed how he managed to walk gracefully along the forest without stepping over his flowy robes. You kept a light jog trying to catch up with his pace, and when you returned back to the shoreline, you only wished you could throttle him for dragging you along in a circle. “We’re back to the estuary,” you panted. “Why?”

“The forest trails work differently in my mind. Just like one cavern in yours lead to somewhere unexpected,” Bakunawa explained, carefully watching the sky. It was still a full-moon, but the stars have changed. It was a different time, another memory.

“I… can’t seem to remember what happened before I was bound to you,” he said.

“But you knew her.”

“Yes,” he replied. “Everything I see, I know it happened,” he said, touching his shoulder, the same spot where the archer hit him, “yet I can’t recall it ever happening as if knowing and happening are now two different things.”

“Who is she to you?”

A growl rumbled in his chest, and scales began to emerge from underneath the back of his hands, a similar sight as you did whenever you were about to transform. Then he calmed, soothing his own breathing. He let out a defeated breath when his memories failed to help him.

“Mayari.”

You and Bakunawa turned back to the memory unfolding at the shoreline. The familiar hooded figure emerged from the tree-line, but instead of ill-intent, she approached the human-formed Bakunawa with a girlish demeanor. “You know who I am,” she said, smiling impishly.

“You have been coming to my resting place for days now.”

Mayari shrugged. “It’s close to my traps, and you gave me the good suggestion that I should gain the favour of a deity instead of resorting to murder,” she continued, “but I guess you can only come out during the full-moon.”

Bakunawa’s annoyed mask fell and an amused smirk graced his serpentine features. “A fellow god helps with the tides and opens the door for me to slip into this realm,” he explained briefly. “The full-moon gives him more power during this time.”

“Do you have powers?” Mayari asked, then smiling sheepishly when Bakunawa flashed her an offended look. “Other than turning into a beast, of course.”

Bakunawa hummed in thought. “If you sing for me, I’ll show you a trick.”

“Sing? A song?”

“Music and any beautiful sounds are my joy,” Bakunawa stated proudly. While waiting for her to sing, Bakunawa waded in the water and basked himself under the moonlight again. It was as if he bathed in the moonlight rather than the water itself.

Mayari followed him but stopped at where the sand met the water. She carefully removed her footwear before submerging her feet in the wet sand. She cleared her throat before humming what you recognized as a lullaby. It had no words, but the melody you knew by heart.

It was the lullaby your mothers sang to you.

The same lullaby Yatzil sang to calm Bakunawa back in Cairo.

At the end of Mayari’s song, a soft calmed smile was present on Bakunawa’s lips. He had other mortals sing songs to him over the centuries to gain favours from him. Yet, he appreciated the sincerity of this particular mortal, even though she was also trying to earn some kind of blessing. Also, it wasn’t that often that mortals placed aside their fear and had the audacity to shoot at him with a tiny arrow.

“Follow me.”

Mayari looked apprehensive at the deity’s offer. There was no light, and even at a low tide, the water was still deep and terribly cold. Even if she took his hand, he could pull her down to drown and be devoured.

As if sensing all her worries, the water that only reached her ankles receded, and soon the rest of the water parted to form a path. The brisk night wind slowed to a gentle breeze and brought in a light posse of fireflies. Further along the water where the bugs couldn’t reach, the dark menacing water sparkled from a group of bioluminescent algae.

It was truly a sight to behold, and you thought it was something you heard in fairytales. You turned to the Bakunawa standing beside you and was surprised at the look on his face. Never before had you seen so much longing on the deity’s face before. Gone were his pride and bloodthirsty nature. All you saw was adoration and longing.

“You loved her,” you stated as a matter-of-fact, watching Mayari tentatively accept her Bakunawa’s hand and walk down the parted path he laid for her.

“That he did. What a fool…”

Both you and Bakunawa swiftly turned to the source of the voice. You were met with nothing but the balete trees. You could sense a presence there, but it was powerful enough to hide from you. Time was running out. You needed to find the god who did this and quick.

“Who was the god who let you slip through the realms?” you asked Bakunawa with urgency.

“Stupid girl, he already said who it was.”

You groaned in annoyance and whipped your head towards the trees again. “Who are you? Show yourself!” Your eyes focused on any slight movement on the trees, on every leaf, searching for anyone who was spying on you this entire time.

Snap.

Without hesitation, you burst into a sprint to the direction where you heard a twig snap. All you could see was bushes shaking and low branches swinging violently from the person avoiding you, but you have yet to see even a distinct shape to try and recognize who that was. A menacing laugh echoed through the wood as you felt the ground fall beneath you. You barely had time to catch yourself before you went tumbling down a steep hill.

You rolled down a few feet before your hand managed to grip a sapling to stop your fall. You grunted as you hoisted yourself back on your feet, panting from the wind knocked out of you. Damn it. You lost Bakunawa again, and you were most likely inside another memory.

“Are you okay being this far from the water?”

With the lack of choices on your hand, you followed Mayari’s voice instead and see what happens now. She had her hunting cloak on and was walking side by side with Bakunawa, still dressed in his teal and golden robes. In her hand was a different kind of bow, something that you have never seen before.

There was no doubt that Mayari received it as a gift from Bakunawa. It was metallic turquoise, a slight shade off from Bakunawa’s usual teal, but still obvious enough to know it was his. As you approached the pair, the bow had golden engraves of the moon cycle. A deity’s blessing.

“This island floats right above the estuary, and all these trees contain magic for all anitos. I can be summoned anywhere if needed be.”

“With your god friend’s permission,” Mayari added as a matter of fact.

Bakunawa nodded.

“What is it like in your realm? Is it up there? Or beneath the water?”

“You are quite the curious mortal, Mayari,” Bakunawa said with a sly smile. “I am forbidden to reveal such things by the gods, but… let’s just say that when your final breath is released, we shall once again meet in my realm through your kalag, your soul.”

You raised your brow at that. You knew that Bakunawa had ties to the underworld, but that narrows your guesses now to just two gods.

“Find anything?”

“Jesus!” you jumped again, your heart doing a complete somersault when your Bakunawa suddenly appeared behind you.

“Wrong deity, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

You looked at Bakunawa unimpressed. “Did you at least recognize the creep watching us?”

“No, but whoever it is knows about the curse. Be on your guard.”

“Can’t we just wait for the first-generation gods? Have an audience with them like the Ennead.”

Bakunawa stared at you as if you had complete lost your head. “That family has no time to listen to the accounts from a lesser deity such as myself as much as that wounds my pride,” he said. “Vain, self-important bastards, the lot of them.”

“Like you’re the one to talk,” you rolled your eyes at them.

“Trust me, child, you haven’t met a god until you met Kaptan or his family.”

“You think the god of all gods did this?”

“No, but I’m sure he is complacent about this whole ordeal.”

“’Vain, self-important?’ You hurt my feelings, old friend.” A voice whispered through the wind.

Someone was definitely out there toying with you, and you didn’t have time for it. People were dying by the second, and you were still stuck with figuring out this curse. You didn’t know if your powers worked in Bakunawa’s mind palace, but you were sick of playing along with their games.

“Show yourself. Come out!”

Suddenly, it felt like everything stilled. The wind was silent, and even the wildlife in the forest cease to make noises. The only sound that was heard were the crunching of your feet on the ground as you carefully stepped back closer to Bakunawa.

“Please… don’t hurt me.”

What the…?

“Bakunawa, why is there a child here?”

The child looked no more than ten, and there was no doubt that this child was not of this world either. His silver-white hair contrasted with his warm brown skin, paired with a set of golden eyes that shined with a richer luster than Bakunawa’s. He was clothed in traditional Filipino loincloth, but the material was almost sparkling white lined with gold that flowed like moonlight even under the morning light.

“How did you get here?” you asked, sensing uneasiness the longer you were with this unknown child.

“I’m scared,” he whimpered.

Bakunawa took a hesitant step forward to approach the child, but you reached out for the sleeve of his robe to stop him. Instead, you spoke, your voice seeping with magic, “Come forward, child.”

The child stopped his pitiful noises and looked straight at Bakunawa, ignoring your magic and presence overall. “I can’t move,” he said, his words almost seeming like a challenge than words of helplessness. “Please come closer.”

“Don’t,” you whispered to the deity. “We don’t what he is.”

“He’s a child,” Bakunawa stated the obvious.

“And you just said to be on our guard,” you reminded him. “My magic isn’t working on the child, and you’re cursed.”

“Maybe magic doesn’t exist here.”

Out of blue, the child stomped his foot like he was pulling a tantrum for being ignored even for a few seconds. “Both of you are no fun,” he pouted.

“Who are you?” Bakunawa asked, and his question only seemed to irk the child even more.

“You seriously don’t remember me?” the child spat out, now slowly approaching us. The menacing and spiteful look in his eyes were enough warning signals for you and Bakunawa take steps back to every step forward he took. “I guess that curse really did a number on you.”

“Wha—”

“Shut up!” the child snapped at you. His voice alone sent a blast of sharp wind on you. You reached for your cheek, and when you drew back your hand, your fingertips were streaked with blood. “I should destroy you for even trying to use your inferior magic towards a god.”

Then the child looked up at the morning sky as if the sunlight was a mere inconvenience to him. “Let’s change things up, shall we?” he tutted. With a wave of his hand, the sun quickly set and was replaced by the moon, and when you laid your eyes back on him, it was as if the child grew older by a decade.

“Mm, much better, is it not?” the god hummed, running his slender fingers on the fabric of his vest.

“Libulan,” was the only name that left your lips.

The god smiled smugly, looking impressed but only felt condescending for you. “So, you aren’t totally stupid,” he said. “What gave it away other than it being obvious?”

“But why?” You tried to ask before Bakunawa cut you off. “You were the one helping me pass through realms. You took me here and brought me back.”

“That, I did,” Libulan confirmed, a haughty laugh escaping him. “You’d be surprised how amusing it was seeing you struggle in the mortal realm for centuries. It’s like watching a headless chicken running loose in a labyrinth.”

You sneered at him, something that the god didn’t take lightly. Bakunawa was not joking. This particular god had an insane ego. “You could’ve just left the door closed and left him here. Why curse him?”

Libulan’s face turned even more sour the moment you spoke to him. “Lower deities are mere playthings to gods as much as mortals are,” he said. “But,” he continued, “my mother thought otherwise. Always fascinated with pretty things, that one.”

“Does the goddess of the sea know that her son is a little psychopath?” Bakunawa asked off-handedly, aware that his aloofness would piss off Libulan more than any spiteful tone.

Except the moon god only smiled bitterly. “Okay,” he clapped, “since I’m feeling generous, I’ll throw you a bone… a fish? Were you a dragon or a snake? I can’t remember.”

You rolled your eyes, and yet, you had no choice but to play along. Your best and only option was to let this asshole gloat and gloat until you can catch him off-guard.

“I’ll grant you your memories back,” Libulan declared, the sinister smile still plastered on his beautiful face. “I admit, casting away your memories were a little overkill from those witches I blessed to take you out.” He approached Bakunawa, who shielded you from the mad god by pulling you behind him.

The protective gesture was not left unnoticed by Libulan. The god sneered and gripped the Bakunawa’s face. “You are going to enjoy this, brother.” Wisps of moonlight began seeping from the god’s fingertips as his eyes glowed white, similar to Marc and Steven when they were wearing Khonshu’s ceremonial armor.

The moment Libulan let go, Bakunawa fell to the ground like a stack of bricks. It only took a few seconds for him to recover and get back on his feet. “Me… You… We grew up as brothers,” he said, his voice wavering from the bombarding wave of returning memories. “I cared for you.”

Libulan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And yet, you betrayed me!” he shouted, sending gusts of wind blowing from every direction. “You were willing to stay here for your disgusting mortal who didn’t even have magic! You were going to leave me!” The wind grew stronger as his voice rose to a crescendo from every word.

All of his calm, menacing demeanor was now replaced with pure unadulterated rage.

“So, you blessed Mayari’s sisters to destroy me?”

“Wasn’t the first time I did it, and it won’t be the last.” Libulan conjured out a weapon, a spear that resembled closely to Khonshu’s crescent moon staff but slimmer and was bladed on both ends. With undeniable grace and ease, he struck down Bakunawa with the flat side of the blade. “You underestimate the greed of these humans. You didn’t even realise that your favour towards Mayari sowed discord in her family. If we’re being honest here, this whole thing was your fault.

“I’m sure your pathetic little host understands that better than you do,” he laughed at you. “Your village elders were so willing to accept my blessing just to put a little handicap on you,” he said, referring to Bakunawa unconscious on the ground. “Pity they tried to go against my back. When I told them to kill you with Bakunawa inside you, they tried to take all your powers instead. They had to go. All of them.”

Libulan aimed the spear at you. “That includes you.” Then he scoffed distastefully, “Oh, please, there’s no need for the scared doe-eyed look. Did you really think you and a fallen deity could defeat a god?” His eyes glowed white again as you felt the air leaving your lungs. “Think of it this way. I’m just cleaning house. That includes you. It was fun watching Bakunawa for the first few hundred years, but you,” he spat. “You just had to stick your nose on things that aren’t yours, just like that mortal Mayari.”

The moment Mayari’s name left Libulan’s lips, Bakunawa’s taloned hand shot up and grabbed the spear, pulling it out of the god’s grasp when he was unguarded. “Enough.” Bakunawa rose to his feet, his hands still gripped firm on the spear. He didn’t look angry or upset at his brother.

Bakunawa looked weary.

“Haven’t you done enough? You’ve killed people, destroyed families, tempted them through their greed. You were supposed to protect them.”

There was nothing else you could do but stare as they both straightened up for a fight. It was over. There was no way you or Bakunawa can win against a god who was powered by his wrath. All Bakunawa could do was prolong what time you had left before Libulan would strike both of you down and destroy your souls, leaving you far, far away from eternal peace.

The only way to defeat a god… was to summon another god.

You panicked at the thought. There was no way to ensure that whoever you’ll summon would be a friend, but with each passing second, Libulan grew closer to gaining back his weapon, overpowering Bakunawa who was barely standing his ground. You didn’t even have anything to call out a god in the afterlife.

Unless you called a god who was already here.

“Taweret!”

In an instant, you fell through a door and found yourself back on the deck of the Duat. The hippo goddess peered down at you from where you were lying on the floor and waved. “That didn’t go well as planned, was it?”

You jumped to your feet. “Steven,” you said. “Where’s Steven and Marc?”

“Oh, dear, you’ve missed a lot,” Taweret chirped. “They’re back. Back to the living realm. You certainly made it easier by healing his body before you followed. Smart one, aren’t you?”

“Not that smart, I suppose,” you muttered mostly to yourself. “I left Bakunawa in there to fight a crazy god.” You stared at the doors leading back inside the Duat.

“Mhmm, he's barely holding on. I see everything that happens in my boat,” Taweret informed you, “but unfortunately, as much as I want to help you, I cannot fight deities from other realms.” With a remorseful tone, she continued, “I can give aid to them, but I can never directly harm them. It’s kind of an unspoken rule between us gods.”

“Then you know other gods who can. Gods from his realm,” you said, unable to stop thumping your foot against the wooden floorboards from the raw urgency flowing through your veins. “Please, Taweret, I don’t have much time.”

“There is one. A god from the underworld realm,” Taweret trailed off. “It was quite the scandal, and quite the subject of gossip even for gods in other realms.”

“Yes?” Your foot never ceased its incessant tapping and only increased rapidly as the goddess fell into a tangent of gossip.

“I don’t know if he would come. Details come fuzzy as they travel through realms, like a bad game of telephone. Last time I heard he was sleeping inside a mountain.”

“A mou— you just told me he’s a god of the underworld.”

“Yes, well, he’s quite fascinated with you mortals as well, albeit quieter and tends to keep to himself. So, he keeps himself near his own little portal.” Suddenly, her face looked very distracted. You stared at her for a brief moment until she snapped back. “Oh, dear,” she said without leaving room for context. “My dear, I can try to summon him, but he wants to keep hidden… Well, Layla needs my help.”

“Wait, are you bailing on me?”

“Ta-ta!”

What the fuck just happened?

You heard rustling from the corner of the boat, catching your attention. When you turned to look, you found out that your situation was about to get worse. You sighed and grabbed a wooden plank from a corner, ready to bash in some sand zombies.

You were definitely fucked, but you weren’t going without a fight.

“I’ve been possessed, shot, and beat up by a manchild god,” you spat out, gripping the narrow plank tight between your hands. “Try me because I am so fucking pissed right now.”

“As expected of Bakunawa’s host.”

The zombies slowed in their steps and titled their disfigured bodies down, almost like a bow. However, you turned to whoever was behind you and began poking at their chest with your wooden weapon.

“I am so sick with you gods just appearing out of nowhere from behind,” you complained, more exasperated than angry. “Can’t you just face us right ahead? Is this some kind of complex I don’t know about?”

Finally getting all of your frustrations out, you looked up and paled at the god in front of you. Dressed in black lined with deep dark gold loincloth, the god’s body made out of wood, a mix of dark and red wood with notches all over him that could easily be mistaken for scratches or scars. Standing three heads taller than you, he looked down on your short figure while you tried to decipher what he was thinking when his face was nothing but an empty wooden mask with glowing purple eyes.

However, you couldn’t even call him plain. No, not with those wooden horns that almost seem to fan out like branches. Each branch was different and never the same, one had spiked ends, the other had the tiniest of green leaves, while another had delicate flowers.

The groaning from the sand zombies caught your attention again, and you gripped your plank defensively in case they would try and approach you again.

“Leave.”

At the god’s command, the zombies collapsed into a pile of sand, but before they could hit the wooden floor, the sand dispersed into a kaleidoscope of black butterflies. An eerie but beautiful sight.

It also told you everything you needed to know about the god. Ten horns, the notches that signified the life of each mortal, the butterflies. You knew exactly who he was.

“Sidapa, god of death.”

“Indeed,” Sidapa said, gesturing to the notches on his body. He gestured to a particular notch on his chest. “You went far too early, I see, and strayed over to the Egyptian gods’ afterlife. Odd.” He continued, “So, why did Taweret summon me to the Duat? To give you another chance? Bring you to our afterlife?”

“I want you to help me free Bakunawa’s curse.”

Sidapa’s face grew grim for a moment as he took in my request. “What can you offer me to face Libulan again?”

“’Again’?” you echoed. “So, you know about the curse? About Libulan being…?”

“The moon god has a fascination with gods and deities associated with death,” Sidapa explained. “When he isn’t the center of attention… well, look what he did to me.” He gestured to himself.

“You’re… cursed too?” you asked carefully.

“Not necessarily.” Sipada looked away. “I didn’t use to be associated with death.” Then he shook his head as if trying to break free from painful memories. “But that’s a story for another day,” he said. “Right now, I know you need my help. Not for me, but for… whatever is going up there.”

“I thought gods from other realms aren’t supposed to meddle in other gods’ business.”

“You’re the one borrowing my blessing, child,” Sidapa pointed out. “I should be asking you if you’re prepared for the possible consequences of your actions.”

“I have no choice,” you shrugged, trying not to look as terrified as you felt. “Steven is out there and needs my help. Ammit is out there killing innocents by the thousands. Bakunawa needs me; he needs peace for what Libulan did to him.”

“And you understand what you’re giving up to free him? You will be destroyed, body and soul,” he reiterated. “I can offer you Paradise right now. You have suffered enough on a childish fight between gods.”

You hesitated for a moment. Sidapa was already here, offering you an out. You wondered if Taweret knew about the dilemma of what you were about to face, if she was aware of what you really wanted. After all these years, you desperately wanted peace. You didn’t even know what it felt like, and now, you have the chance to take it.

“I see you.”

And yet… it wouldn’t be fair to them. To Steven, to Marc, to Layla, to Bakunawa. To your beloved mothers.

“Take my soul. Bakunawa can have my physical body once he’s free.”

A kaleidoscope of black butterflies swallowed you whole until everything else was dark.

[bbygirl-aemond]

Hey! I Love Stormbreak, you make my Sundays less scary Lol. Keep writing!

I was wondering if you've ever written any original work or if you've ever considered becoming a traditionally published author?

aww thank you so much! always happy to help with the sunday scaries, i get them too and answering comments is an excellent distraction hehe

i have written some original work before, but none of it's published. when i was really young i wrote two novel-length original works. i don't remember them very well, but one was some elf-like fantasy world where the main character was the bastard slave child of an evil king, and the other was a modern setting with vampires and what i know as an adult to be some kind of illegal human trafficking? not like a sex kind, like a "humans are living blood bags" kind. so you can definitely say i've enjoyed whump and fantasy from the beginning?

in more recent years, i've written some short stories (<10k words). there's one about a society that uses happy memories as currency, with a mom giving up a memory of her daughter walking for the first time. there's another about an astronaut who's sent to mars to help terraform it, only to realize she's been tricked and the government is leaving her there to die. my favorite is about a closeted lesbian witch in a salem-esque setting who's driven insane by the ghost of her first love, who was a victim of anti-witch hysteria. so again... heavy on the angst lmao.

right now, i enjoy writing fanfiction because it requires very little actual effort and discipline. it's almost entirely wish fulfillment, and you get to jump in with fully-formed characters, world, and plot, skipping the boring exposition. it's also "safe" because any pressure to create, or criticism, is purely online, so i never feel trapped by it. i think this type of creative writing suits my current situation (sleep-deprived phd student) where i just don't have a ton of time or patience to deal with any of those things.

all that being said- i DO very much plan on spending the majority of my life writing and publishing original works of varying lengths. i'm in a very fortunate financial position where i don't actually have to work a regular job, and the older i get the more i appreciate how privileged that makes me in my ability to actually center my life around creating for creativity's sake- completely divorced from any need to publish by a certain date or appeal to a wide audience in order to make profits. so i only plan on really working up until i turn 30 (which will admittedly still give me 6 years post-phd in the workforce). after that i'll have full reign over how i allocate my free time, and that's when i'll be able to put in the elbow grease required for a longer original work.

...so like a decade from now, check back in and there will probably be some highly dramatic, psychologically intense, at least somewhat magical works hitting the shelves, written by yours truly.

[monstersinthecosmos]

13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

(character asks!)

13. I THINK AS FANDOMS WE FOCUS SO MUCH ON SHIPS WHICH IS FINE BUT I WOULD LOVE TO SEE JUST MORE QUIET MOMENTS OF MARIUS ALONE, BECAUSE HE REALLY IS SUCH A VERY LONELY CHARACTER? IVE ACTUALLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS A LOT AND ABOUT THE MENTAL HEALTH EFFECT OF SOCIAL ISOLATION ON VAMPIRES, LIKE SO MANY OF THE ONES WE MEET SURVIVE BECAUSE THEYRE AROUND PEOPLE ALL THE TIME AND MARIUS DOESNT HAVE THAT AND I WONDER HOW IT WOULD CHANGE HIM IF HIS SOCIAL NEEDS WERE MET

but wowie like

suffering alone in his cell

suffering alone in the Shrine

suffering alone while he paints his house even though the house is full of mortals but he's apart from them and can't really connect

suffering when he spends big sleeps in the shrine and wakes up dusty and disoriented

crying his eyes out in the garden after pandora leaves

ALSO WHEN HE'S JUST ON BENDERS KILLING SO MUCH HE'S SPILLING THE BLOOD HE CAN'T DRINK OR WHEN HE'S SCREAMING AND BEHEADING PEOPLE IN THE GARDEN ?? 🥵

but ALSO like, in general I would love to see more ancient memories because we don't get enough! I want to see him and Pandora in Antioch! Him and Mael the night the met! Him and Avicus! MAYBE THE MAEL'S HEAD SCENE? Him being groomed for his own murder! Him crying on the floor trying to clean Eudoxia's blood! Cuddling into the sarcophagus with Pandora! Making out with Avicus!

I was just thinking yesterday that next time I have money to waste I wanna commission art of him and Mael when they'd sit together and Mael would try to teach him songs. :(

18. I LOVE SUFFERING but i do like the contrast of hurt/comfort. We need the comfort to make the hurt gooder. But like I think !! Sometimes in different fandoms, you'll see that the themes of the source material pop up over and over in fics and stuff, and I think with VC it's such a huge theme that people just want to be loved, and how monsters can still be loved, and how we are not our worst deeds, that we can fuck up and still have value.

And it's a theme that I think gets applied unevenly in the canon, especially in the later books as Anne was just like keyboard smashing the blorbos and having fun. So like, since the POVs are so Lestat-Heavy we get a lot of Lestat knowing he's a bastard and still desiring love and goodness, and then other characters are loved unconditionally and we never really acknowledge that they're bastards, or I think steps get skipped where Lestat essentially winds up being the flawless Mary Sue character who is never accountable for anything he does--we still make it from Point A (fuckup does something terrible) to Point B (he is still loved) but I think it becomes less nuanced in the later books and we don't really spend time with the redemption arc. (An example is like, TOBT is ALL about how he fucks up and we really look closely at it and work through it, vs in the PL trilogy when he like noncon bites David and it's all fine and we don't even talk about it.) And using Lestat as an example because he gets the most screentime, but Marius is exactly the same, and it's further complicated that we never get POV from characters who dislike him LOL.

So to answer your question like, I love seeing him suffer because I love angst LOL but I root for him, I want him to know peace, and I think the story has a lot more potential for nuance than what we got in the books, which is why fandom is here. THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT OF TRANSFORMATIVE FICTION LOL. (To me lol, that's my mission here.) But if he doesn't suffer first there's no real value in his being at peace, that's boring LMAO where's the FLAVOR where's the CONFLICT; let him fuck up and suffer and destroy his entire life first so that we have a puzzle to work out to make his way back.

[dxnse-macabre]

GET TO KNOW ME MEME

NAME — angie! PRONOUNS — she/her SEXUALITY — bisexual c: SINGLE / TAKEN — taken

THREE FACTS

— i used to be a fanfic writer that wrote primarily on w.attp.ad. one of my works got A LOT of hits after i stopped writing,,, i mean like 350k views last time i checked. my goal back then was to hit 1 mil but ofc i don't have the time now — i'm also a published author but only for like one book — i have a pet cat that was given to me when i was in middle school. i actually have... no idea how old she was when we got her. i still don't know how old she is. but she still looks & acts young,,, she also acts so sophisticated/stuck up so i've been convinced that she's an immortal being that is just here for the free snacks and a nice home

EXPERIENCE

HOW LONG — i've been writing ever since i was in middle school (6-7th grade) but that was for fanfiction. i joined my first ever tumblr rp community i wanna say like... freshman/sophomore year of high school? it helped me get through a lot of rough times as it was like a form of escapism for me. i believe the first community i joined was the d.etroit b.ecome h.uman rpc. i stayed in that for a FAT minute before i was into the o.verwatch rpc and then the d.ragon a.ge rpc. if you wanna check out my really old blogs (they aren't active anymore, but i kept them up so i can look at them here and there) here they are: @ask-the-rk900 , @fen-dwxller, @bxckle-up @luridhearted @scxrred-prince (luridhearted was an attempt at a multimuse HAH) WHAT PLATFORMS — primarily tumblr, before i shifted over to discord for a couple years as i only had time to rp with like one person. afterwards, i ended up coming back to tumblr. if you're talking about now, i only rp on tumblr because i have too much fun with formatting my posts BEST EXPERIENCE — i had an rp partner that was like my bestie throughout my highschool years. we had our own ocs and they were always sad and depressed because we were too LMAO. but during that time, i absolutely LOVED our rps and our own characters. we drifted apart because of our own differences, but i hope they're doing okay now. they still influence me heavy to this day, and every now and then i look back at our stories that we made together. always missing you, ash.

MUSE TYPE

FEMALE OR MALE — i've never really written female muses, unless they are older..(?) an example of this is a.na a.mari from o.verwatch. i've always loved writing male muses. a niche that i'd like to say that i'm particularly good at is the closeted bisexual that always believed they were straight and is in constant denial. oh, and rockerboy. i take a lot of inspiration from a fanfic for that sort of portrayal and it's so heavily ingrained in my brain. astarion is so not that but it's a nice change of pace. his rockstar AU helps me go back to my roots though. FLUFF , ANGST OR SMUT — i LOVE angst. angst is my go-to thing-- i feel like i'm some kind of sadist that loves seeing my muse get hurt????? is there something wrong with me???????? an example of this is fluff masking the angst underneath. ORRRR smut masking the angst underneath. it's been years since i've written anything remotely smutty and i have no idea if i can still write it hahaha PLOTS OR MEMES — i prefer a little bit of both. send in a meme, maybe even plot about how to go about it? or vice versa. those are SO yummy LONG OR SHORT REPLIES — depends on the mood of the day. most of the time i love making long replies because the muse tends to get carried away (he's very talkative, as you all know) but i know that a lot of gems come from short little banter-like threads so i love those too! BEST TIME TO WRITE — whenever the muse lets me. sometimes astarion gives a little pouty face and tells me he's too tired and doesn't wanna interact. sometimes astarion is bursting with energy cause he needs someone to fuck around with. sometimes... astarion is full of himself and wants to stare at pictures of himself. the muse wants what the muse wants, and if i force it, it's the first step to losing my muse ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) — on a trauma level, me && astarion are very similar. both of us felt like we needed to overly-sexualize ourselves to people who we deemed worthy of protecting us, so there is a sense of performance that we need to bring to every relationship. it's hard for the both of us to take off that mask since it's so second nature to us. i haven't been physically scarred by another person like astarion has, but i do have my own scars for other reasons. to me, astarion is essentially an embodiment of my past trauma that i can express in a healthy way. i guess that's why i've stuck with him longer than i have with any other muse---because of how familiar he is. (also, back with my rp partner i had on discord, neil was their faceclaim as well so that's a double whammy)

TAGGED BY: @wildskissed TAGGING: @crimesought @shdwtouch @crownshattered @stilettobite + anyone else that wants to do this!!!

[katyspersonal]

BLOODY CROW VS ALBERICH

Who is winning the edgelord contest?

LMAO. I see you still haven't learned to stop pitting the kings against each other sjffhdsd Well, I actually think Alberich might win this one..? xD

Okay, so, Bloody Crow is, indeed, edgy: he is one of the guardians of the vampire queen using the sword that he powers up with the blood and that keeps draining from his life force, he is heavily implied to hunt the hunters themselves to get the blood dregs from them (hence the affiliation, and the heresy to what Hunters of Hunters should REALLY do; feed corpses to the birds). His look ALONE is pretty edgy; he has all the Cainhurst drip but chest piece is the cape inspired by crow feathers, and he is also one of like, three survivors of the castle ruined by religious fanatics, still latching onto what he knew despite not being able to return (Annalise tells us we are her only affiliate after we contract with her).

So like, yeah, why would Alberich win? Because of the term you used, lol! xD 'Edgelord' would imply like... humorously, comically, unnecessarily over-the-top with angst and blood and all against the society, and honestly, Crow is more serious (dare I say, tragic?) character than meets the eye! Besides, the 'edginess' of his weapons is reduced because it is just normal covenant weapon for them!

Alberich though? Like I mentioned, if you remove his hat in alteration of outfits, you can see similar process with Azur and Lusat, but with bloody glintstones instead of their comet ones. I don't even know whether he did that to himself, or he was likewise an exiled criminal; he uses cold sorceries as well, and Staff of the Sinner/Guilty/whatever? I feel as though nothing about his data suggesting any eyes injury or absence (unlike, say, with the sisters) implies that he inflicted the blindness on himself by never taking the bandage, because he JUST decided bloody sorcery was cooler, hahaha. Regardless of the interpretation, dude is edgy. Again, the blood glintstones are reviled as they're brought by stabbing (if not killing) other people! The dude also uses his own blood to create spiky bloody vines - sorry, but this is MORE edgy than simply coating the sword in the blood that is already IN the sheath; Crow doesn't even STAB himself, unlike Maria!

But more importantly? He is said to be asocial in general, keeping away from people. ...and he was driven mad by "jeering tongues", whereas dropping an item Taunter's Tongue that is golden in color, whereas Ensha is stated to have golden bones, whereas he doesn't speak, so I conclude Alberich cut out his tongue for talking shit about him! Like!! Okay, look, that is VERY edgy! Like, unnecessary over-the-top reaction, that I think Bloody Crow would not have had! In fact, I believe Crow might even enjoy it if people talk shit about him? And I feel like Crow has more merit to needing to keep away from the society with his story and goals, whereas Alberich is more on the "studying heretical magic that those plebs just won't "understand"" side!

^^^ that's Alberich with blood glintstones when he appears in the Roundtable Hold frrrrrr fhdhds xddd

...but also, Alberich is wearing blood glintstones on his clothes. It is like, showing off how many people he stabbed, since blood turns into them. Crow doesn't really show off his 'crimes' like that.

Honorable mentions: 1) Me and @val-of-the-north headcanon that Alberich enjoys consuming blood, like adding it in the tea or whatnot, and that is WITHOUT any vampiric implications, which is edgier 2) If theory about Gideon being his father holds up, that'd give Alberich HEAVY daddy issues, which would add to the angstiness. 3) I just... like, if I had to choose which one of these characters would give a villain speech full of oddly specific, even petty grudges, I'd totally pick Alberich! I feel like Crow would either not even honor his opponent with a word unless seriously pissed off (by refusing to die fast enough? xD), or he would be kind of on point.

______________

Argh. This ask had no business being THIS hard. These characters do not even have a darn dialogue, I have to walk in the dark and base my judgement on headcanons. ;-; Please never do it again.

[clumsyclifford]

hi clumsyclifford

so i've been reading your fics and also ask responses and i feel like u would understand this so i am .. going to ramble a bit? just because maybe you understand these brain worms etc. feel free to ignore, i just don't have any fandom friends to properly discuss this with lmao

do you find writing hurt/comfort gets more difficult the older you get? i'm a hurt/comfort writer through and through, but it was way easier when i was like 14 to write about 'deep stuff' and think nothing of it. it was cringe but i was free. now i'm 20, and i want to write hurt/comfort but i'm somewhat afraid of it?

like as adults we still deal with these things, but i find myself wanting to avoid them because it feels childish. it makes it more interesting to write about, but i can't help but feel childish when i want to write about certain topics (u kno. depression. relapse. alcoholism. the full works). and i worry that it comes across immature to others, despite the fact im literally an adult lmao

you have a really nice way of going about angst in your fics, and i want to too. idk i just thought it'd be cool to waffle on about maturing in fandom and what that does for writing and interacting etc. but maybe it just seems extra HAHA i'm just bored and wanted to talk abt it

hey hi hello! took me a minute to get to this, because i wanted to give it a proper answer.

this is a really interesting question i'm glad you brought it to me!!! i'm also intrigued by what you said, because i actually have found it to be the opposite. now, to be fair, i have had a semi-charmed life, so i don't have experience with most of the really hard-hitting heavy angst topics and i have relied on what i've read/seen/learned about for writing those things. because of that, though, i think the "angst" i was writing when i was a kid was wayyy off the mark, and probably hella unrealistic, because i just didn't have the experience to draw from, and i didn't have the perspective to like...fully understand how to write something i didn't know about.

as an adult (or at least more of one), i think i'm much more capable of writing good angst, because i can understand things like: nuance. individual differences. human behavior. moral gray areas. the complexity of the human experience. etc. i've learned, for example, that two people can have the same exact problem and handle it in completely opposite ways, and that knowledge has allowed me to take liberties in writing while also staying conscious of what is in the realm of a "realistic" representation of any given conflict.

another part of being able to write better hurt/comfort, though, is that i really understand a lot more what constitutes as "comfort," and how that can be just as nuanced and complex as the "hurt" part of things. people are comforted by different things. in different ways. by different people. one person may want hugs, one may want to be left alone. one may say they want to be left alone but in reality want hugs. and furthermore, sometimes "comfort" doesn't actually mean "the problem is solved." sometimes it means "let me share this burden." sometimes it means "crying about it is better than not." sometimes it means "the problem hasn't gone away, but i can distract you from it for right now." sometimes it means "i can't help you, but i can help you get help." et cetera et cetera!

i can see where you're coming from, because there are pitfalls in writing hurt/comfort that younger writers do tend to fall into (simply by virtue of not really knowing better), like, for example, thinking that if the "hurt" is alcoholism, then the "comfort" is sobriety that sticks the first time. but! we know that things are not always so neat, and that makes us capable of writing way more interesting stories, because they aren't open-shut, "here's the problem and here's how i fixed it" cases. things don't often get tied neatly in a bow. some of my favorite angst i've ever read or written had ambiguous endings where you didn't know if the problem would be solved in the long run, because that's life! some problems are chronic and incessant; some come and go. some remain a looming presence over your shoulder, presenting an imminent threat to your fragile peace of mind. and many of these don't have an easy fix, which is why they're so interesting and fun (and sometimes challenging) to write about. but i think that as long as you're aware of how layered and complex these things are (which it sounds like you are), you probably won't come across as immature while writing about them.

and by the way, caveat to the above: sometimes "comfort" does mean "the problem is solved," and that's just as legitimate as any of the other shit i said! sometimes it's as easy as saying "person A needs X, and person B has X." whether X is a hug or the thing they need to hear in that moment or a fuckin letter from their past self or just a glass of water, sometimes person B can solve the problem. it happens in real life all the time, and it's not immature to write it in a story. so basically what i'm saying is: as long as you remember that the human experience is messy and complicated and weird and nuanced, you're golden.

[dragonbleps]

Dad and I finished Legacies last night and while I'm sure there's nitpicks I could make, and it's corny sometimes because it's a supernatural teen drama, I'm glad to say it was really diverse and handled a lot of things better than I expected and I'm glad I watched it

Mostly I'm glad that the show just let the characters speak for themselves rather than having them give a heavy handed "This is important because I'm a XYZ" that a lot of shows do which immediately makes some people turn their ears off and categorize it as "wokery" rather than them just being... people. existing.

Like, I spotted my somewhat homophobic Dad actually smiling at two guys kissing because the show just let them be. There was no angst about homophobia because there was no homophobia, it wasn't necessary to the story, they were just allowed to exist. One was a werewolf and the other a demi-god, so they had other things to worry about lmao

Also the gay characters don't die. Well, one does, but not permanently, he comes back. They stay together to the end and live happily.

There's women as the main characters. There's straight relationships, there's a lesbian relationship, there's a gay relationship, there's characters of color who have a healthy relationship, there's an interracial couple.

There's healthy male friendships. There's two guys who like the same girl and it could have EASILY turned into the dreaded "love triangle" that is not actually a triangle, but instead the guys stay affectionate friends and say "it's her choice not ours and we'll still be friends either way". There's multiple characters of color that are also mainstay characters who are JUST as powerful and important as the main 3 girls.

There's even mention of mental illness, although it's very vague. They call it her "brain chemistry" being different from others. Which is. something? I guess. I mean I guess it could be better to be vague rather than to incorrectly represent a specific illness in a way that'd further stigmatize it. Idk. But it's there. I can't really speak on how well it's handled since it's vague though.

Are there things it didn't do great? Almost certainly. Alaric and Caroline's relationship is, uh, weird, and I won't defend it other than to say that the full context is missing from the show bc it happened in The Vampire Diaries and it's complicated. But still iffy tbh. It's not really talked about, I just know about it from The Vampire Diaries, but even the characters admit "Hm. This is kinda weird actually" lmao

But it was nice to see a show that treats diversity as, yknow, normal rather than giving themselves a pat on the back about it by making characters bring it up in a "tell rather than show" kind of way. You know what I mean?