#i can't imagine being so entitled

[sweet-like-hypoglycemia]

I think the worst part of tumblr has become all the entitled donuts who think it's your job to tag every little thing that makes them uncomfortable.

It's unreasonable, not our job, and probably mentally unhealthy to attempt to shield yourself from ever having to deal with or put up with ANYTHING you don't "feel like."

[beastsovrevelation]

I recently found out people ship Cassandra with Apollo.

My initial reaction was...

Just tan their hides. You know what happened to her because the the bastard, don't you?..

Then, I was overwhelmed by morbid curiosity, and checked AO3. People are writing rape fics about them. ...Why?..

Could I ever see Cassandra x Apollo?.. I don't know, maybe. But, definitely not the nonsense I mentioned. Dubcon at most. I guess, he might somehow coerce her into sleeping with him, and later rescue her from the fall of Troy, because she's pregnant with his child, or something (Zeus would be pissed, I'm fine with that).

Sounds like an intriguing story, with a lot of morally questionable elements. I can imagine Apollo confiding in Artemis, wondering why his wife is so upset. She'd just go "are you serious rn?.. -_-".

...What, you're surprised I'm among those I wish to hide with a broom? Don't be. It happens quite often, actually.

[opalthea]

also, hello padisarah nonnie !! it's good to see you again :>

i decided to not answer your ask regarding the wholeeee stuff.. because i don't really care what they want to do anymore. i've done my part of speaking up about their behaviours and calling them out - which made a lot of people open their eyes for once instead of ignoring the warnings they got from me or other people. and i think that's all i want to do.

THIS WILL FORMALLY BE THE LAST POST ABOUT THEM. I will not answer any asks regarding it anymore, so if you want to make your own posts regarding those users, please use your own platforms, thank you.

as much as i encourage speaking up, i also don't want to give a flying duck about them anymore. y'know, like, i spoke up because i couldn't tolerate them and their behaviours anymore - couldn't just keep quiet when my mutuals are knowingly or unknowingly talking to shitty people like that. if they started a new blog, just let them. i don't really care anymore 😭 all i hope is that my mutuals and those that see this are more aware of internet safety and who you surround yourself with. it was already exhausting trying to warn others about them and not being listened to until i made this shit public — i'm not going to start becoming a blog that runs on discourse just so some can finally realise that this person was shitty and that person was the devil.

thanks for also caring abt me and informing me of their new url, i appreciate that a lot! it's on my blocklist now + the mutuals they've tagged on that post too 💀 if, however, i blocked you without a good reason why, or if i blocked you before you knew of this and had already cut ties with them, feel free to send me a message or ask on a different blog! i took precautionary blocks when it comes to having those kind of people as mutuals so .. yeah.

[twilight-deviant]

Context: After getting character hate on my gifset, I added a comment in the reply section kindly asking people to not put character hate in the tags of my gifset. (Which, I'm learning... may be a crime...)

Are you for real? I'm not out here making gifs like it's some sort of public service. lol! 😂 I'm nowhere near so magnanimous. I'll be as partial as I want. I can, and I am, and I will be.

I gif things I like.

For me.

I gif them for me.

I share them in case other people are interested. (I often like things in atypical ways, and if I can give another fan a drink of water in the desert, that's great.) Same principle with my art and fics. Sometimes they get attention and sometimes they don't. I'm fine either way because all of it is created, first and foremost, by me for me. (Unless expressly stated that it is a gift.) If I see it, then the target audience is reached. So when I make something (for me), no, I don't want to see negativity on it. And that's my right. I'm allowed to not like that when I spend an afternoon making a gifset and there are tags like "[favorite character] should die." I'm allowed to say I would prefer not seeing more of that.

But in your mind, I should grin and bear it and... Well, I'm not even sure what the upside is. I'm not much into suffering for strangers. (You know I'm not getting paid per gif, right?)

If you can't abide by one ridiculously tiny rule, just don't reblog my stuff. That means it's simply not FOR YOU! It's not for you to use as a conduit and canvas for character hate. If you are emotionally incapable of reblogging something without putting hate on it when asked, that is a you problem. Kindly keep your problems away from me and my stuff.

.............I say this, but sadly anon can no longer hear me. 🤧 Because I blocked them after I took the screenshot. (Thank you, tumblr, for the block anonymous feature.) RIP, anon. But since you are blocked, you won't have to worry about seeing my gifsets anymore, the ones that make you grind your teeth because the creator asked you not to hate on their favorite character on their own post. You shall not be missed.

PS:

I never said people have to like Fisk. I've been a fan of the character for 9 years. I'm quite aware of the fact people don't like him. I only asked that they not brag about hating him on my post. You understand these two things are separate, right? Tell me you understand they're different things. If they want to make their own post and cuss him to Hell and back, that's their prerogative. They can do it elsewhere.

"The show is about Maya." Big duh. But did you know... fans can favor someone who is... not the main character? (While still liking the MC, of course.) If this weren't your first fandom, you might know that. Honestly, someone's favorite character being the MC is often a rarity. If E-cho were longer and fleshed out their characters more, I'm sorry to say there would be even less focus on Maya. Because obsessing over secondary characters is what fandom does best.

Nope, don't believe you like Fisk. Maybe in an abstract way. Maybe thinking he's a good villain. But if you're getting this mad at me for not wanting to see hate about him on content I created specifically to showcase him, no way you like Fisk.

[a-force-dyad-in-space]

I had this random thought today (and I'm probably not the first) about Arthur reincarnating into present day with no memory of his past life and becoming one of those better-than-you incluencer celebrities and Merlin having to go through the whole "I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass" spiel again like "Are you fucking kidding me, not again 🙄".

[saintobio]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓. (final part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the painful memory of what once was, sylus learns that love can't be bound where it was never meant to stay.

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to

♱ notes. 9.5k wc. l&ds!mc is referred to here as 'diana'. THIS IS A REPOST of the original post i accidentally deleted. i already posted this several hours ago, so if you’re seeing this new one again, blame my dumbass 🤧 oh well life is life.

Sylus had a part of him that wished things could be different. 

Ever since he turned away and left you that night at the alleyway, he didn’t really realize the chain of events his decision would set into motion. He simply underestimated how strongly your threats were backed by the grudge you had on him for bringing the hunter girl from Linkon into his base.

After all, you were just an assistant of his. And her, she was everything to him. It wasn’t just about the Aether Core, too—their bond stretched back into his distant past, into another planet where two of them ruled before the inhabitants of Philos came to ruin everything. Him and Diana had a connection he couldn’t sever no matter how much you had come to mean to him. And he spent years, centuries even, just to search for her. 

So, how could a mere assistant he had known for less than a decade have such entitlement to her role in his life? 

Eventually, days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. With your prolonged absence from the Onychinus base, Sylus’s business transactions and illicit deals had become increasingly unruly. He had grown too dependent on you as his right-hand woman, relying on your meticulous management to ensure all his illegal activities ran smoothly. Yet now, without your oversight, things were falling apart.

And while he was contemplating how to fill the void your absence had created, the office door slammed open. A subordinate soon rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “Boss, she’s betrayed us!” Luke exclaimed. “She’s gone to the Hunter’s Association. We got word that she was a high-ranking intelligence agent there!”

“A.K.A a spy!” yelled the other twin, Kieran, who looked equally hurt at your betrayal. “She fooled all of us. And here, we treated her like family.” 

That was how Sylus learned that you had left the N109 Zone, seeking refuge in Linkon City, and had exposed critical intel on Onychinus. At the time, rage naturally exploded within him. Didn’t he take good care of you while you were here? He had given you everything, trusted you, and you had thrown it all away. Four years of falling into his trap. Four years of being his partner in crime, his right-hand woman, his lover. People even saw you as the modern day Bonnie & Clyde. Sylus couldn’t understand the root of your betrayal, couldn’t imagine how letting you slip away from his grasp would cost him so much in return.

When you vowed to do everything in your power to kill Diana, was this just a part of your grand scheme? What other machinations were you orchestrating in your pursuit of revenge?

“She’s a wild animal on loose.” Sylus looked up at the twins, maintaining a calm yet ruthless mien as he sat on the couch. He might be idly tossing a coin like he didn’t care, but inside his brain was chaos ensuing. “Where’s she now? Any news?”

It was Luke who shrugged in response. “She hasn’t been seen anywhere, boss-man.”

“We suspect the Association is hiding her,” Kieran added. 

The hunter girl, Diana—the very girl you were jealous of, was sitting next to Sylus throughout the conversation. Their hands were connected by a strong energy linkage that was seemingly ignited by the Aether Cores in their bodies. They couldn’t separate themselves even if they wanted to. And God forbid you would have lost your mind tenfold had you seen their situation right now. 

“That g-girl,” gasped the hunter girl, eyes wide in bewilderment at what she was hearing. “Sylus, your assistant. She did all that? She was a spy from the Hunter’s Association?” 

Luke tilted her head at the girl, his beaked mask mocking her. “Oh, miss hunter! Haven’t you heard about the HIS? You should know them better than us.” 

“Well.. what is the HIS?” 

“Hunter Intelligence Services.” Sylus was the one who answered, releasing a deep sigh while rubbing his temples. “They’re top secret. Regular hunters wouldn’t have known about them, because they only deal with people like me.” 

Diana looked between him and the twins, rubbing her wrist before moving closer to the boss of Onychinus. Her close proximity allowed him to smell her familiar sweet scent. “Is she… after me? But I don’t understand. If she’s part of the Hunter’s Association too, then shouldn’t we be colleagues?”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Ever since you came—”

“Place a bounty on her head,” Sylus interrupted the twins, and also ignored the question of the girl next to him. She didn’t need to learn the history behind you and him, or why you chose to target her. “Make sure to bring Y/N back to me. Alive.” 

“Roger that, boss!” 

It was his last desperate attempt to draw you back to him. Now that you had the Hunter’s Association protecting you, Sylus knew that locating you wouldn’t be as simple. Otherwise, he would have easily captured Diana long ago. He convinced himself that the bounty was to punish you, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn’t bear to lose you to his enemies completely.

~~

It took you a year to return to the N109 Zone.

Did you forget he had eyes and ears everywhere? He was the boss of that infamous No-Hunt Zone. Even if you leaked intel about his residences and the Onychinus base to the Hunter’s Association, Sylus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had hideouts in places that even you weren’t aware of, and the residents of the N109 Zone were loyal to him. Too loyal that they wouldn’t give any information to anyone no matter the consequences. 

And how foolish were you to forget about Mephisto’s existence?

“Caw! Caw!”

The mechanical crow’s eyes glowed with the same red hue as Sylus’s as it landed on his arm, projecting visions of you entering the underground fight club disguised in an Onychinus uniform. It was almost farcical that you thought you could infiltrate a place Sylus frequented unnoticed.

But then, the vision shifted to you speeding on a motorcycle with a truck in hot pursuit. Sylus quickly recognized the truck’s decals—it was the hitman he often employed for dealing with his enemies, now terrorizing you in a high-speed chase. Without hesitation, Sylus grabbed his leather jacket and mounted his own bike, racing to your location in sixth gear.

He arrived just a minute too late. And what was meant to be a dramatic reunion turned into a scene of you lying unconscious and injured on the road, while the hitman grinned nearby with an expression of triumph. If it hadn’t been for your helmet, Sylus would have been met with the gruesome sight of your shattered skull.

“Mr. Sylus!” the hitman exclaimed, jumping out of his truck with arms outstretched in petty victory. “Can I get the $500,000,000 in cash?”

As Sylus’s gaze fell on your unconscious, injured body sprawled on the ground, a surge of anguish overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t understand. But it was quickly replaced by seething rage—rage that made him summon his black-red mist, enveloping the hitman in its dark tendrils.

“I said not to harm her,” Sylus growled, his red eye glowing ominously against the desolate highway backdrop. “You failed your task.”

“P-Please, Mr. Sylus! I thought you—”

Without another word, Sylus scooped you up in his arms while his mist dealt with the hitman behind him. The hitman’s desperate cries were soon drowned out by the expanding tendrils, which tightened around him until he was engulfed. Then, in a violent burst, the mist exploded, reducing the hitman and everything around him to dust.

Sylus brought you to his underground hideout immediately after. And an unfamiliar—or perhaps strange—pang tugged at his heart as he gently laid you in bed, his gaze lingering on the road rash you obtained from the crash. The injuries were severe, with patches of skin nearly stripped away in the most brutal fashion he could think of. He could only imagine the burning pain you had to endure as soon as you skidded along the gravel, and Sylus felt his own frustrations knocking at the door knowing that he didn’t have the power to extend his fast-healing abilities to you.

“Tch. My kitten’s reckless as always, riding without the proper gear,” Sylus grumbled, looking at your unconscious body. “You’ve never been one to follow the rules, have you?”

To make up for his inability to save you on time, he applied a potent medicinal ointment all over your body and placed you in an anesthetized state while you healed. His mist enveloped you like a protective shroud the entire time you laid in bed unconscious. Every single day, Sylus tended to your wounds, changing your clothes and bandages, and applying the ointments over your bare body. He even took special care to ensure the twins did not enter your room without his permission. 

Despite the care he showed, a persistent question echoed in his mind: Why am I doing this for you? You were his enemy, a traitor, and a woman who had betrayed him. It didn’t make sense. 

That afternoon, feeling suffocated from this internal conflict, Sylus decided to leave you in the care of Luke and Kieran while he went to Linkon. He knew he needed space to grapple with the feelings that were driving him to care for you in the first place.

He needed to see the real woman he should be caring for. 

Because you had not only exposed intel on Sylus and Onychinus to the Hunter’s Association, you also asked for them to isolate Diana so she would have no way to see or contact him. Who knew that mere feelings of jealousy would spark you to do such trivial things? 

Frankly, you were insane. You were dark and twisted like him. 

But in a way, it only underscored how similarly deranged the two of you were. Perhaps, in your madness, there was a strange compatibility—one that Sylus found unsettlingly fitting. The suggestion of you two being more a suitable pair than he and Diana gave him an unease that he couldn’t simply shake away. 

It should be her. Her. Just her and her alone. He dedicated his whole life into finding her, yet you came into his life to ruin the foundations he had built to meet the person he was supposedly destined for. He had repeated it over and over in his mind like a broken record—the voices in his head telling him to let you go, to hurt you, to make you suffer. 

However, as he stood across the pedestrian crossing, watching Diana from afar, a realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. There she was, oblivious to his presence on the other side, but the spark that once ignited in his heart whenever he saw her was gone. Now, his pulse remained steady and his heart stayed still.

With a wary glance around, mindful of any watchful eyes, he decided to pick up his phone and ring hers. It was a good thing he was able to seamlessly blend into the crowd, with his practiced nonchalance making him invisible among the throng of people. After all, he was Sylus Qin, the mastermind of Onychinus—disguise was second nature to him.

“Sylus?” Her voice came through the line, tentative and filled with a mix of emotions as she scanned the faces on the other side of the crossing.

“According to the conditions set by the Hunter’s Association, we shouldn’t be meeting again.” His voice was steady, almost detached, as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Or if not, you will be marked as a Tenebra.” 

Her eyes eventually found him amidst the walking crowd, keeping an expression on her face that showed both longing and forlornness. “Not the first time someone has been marked a Tenebra because of you,” she managed to slip in a snarky remark in her worried expression. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” 

“Are you worried about me?” he nonchalantly asked, watching as she stepped off the curb when the light turned green. Each step was a step closer to him, but nothing changed the pace of his own heartbeat like it should have. Nothing stirred within him as it once did.

“You have the audacity to use a phone when you’re right in front of me,” she snapped, frustration flaring as she yanked the phone from his grasp. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her to escape the dangers of being seen in public. They ended up in an alleyway, a place hidden from prying eyes, an irony that made Sylus chuckle under his breath. The alleyway. Why has that become such a memorable place to him? “Sylus, what’s so funny? I was so scared something happened to you! You couldn’t even call me back or text me the past few days?”

He remained expressionless as he observed her outburst. Strange. In her frantic worry, she reminded him of you, and it was a discomfiting parallel that sent chills down his spine. “I said I’d need to disappear from your life completely, so I have to tie up loose ends,” he began, each word seemingly a dagger to her heart. “We haven’t been able to resonate either way, sweetie. There’s no reason for us to keep meeting.” 

“No!” she adamantly denied the thought, pulling him into an embrace. “No, you’re not allowed to disappear just like that! We need to find a way to get—”

“It’s a dangerous gamble to be caught in my world,” he said in a low voice. 

But she was stubborn. “I’m already caught in it! So, please, Sylus, take me with you. Take me to the N109 Zone or wherever you’re hiding. I want to be where you are.” And in spite, she uttered words that made Sylus think twice about his perception of you. “It’s her fault that this is all happening. She’s a traitor to you and to the Association. Her loyalty isn’t with anyone but herself, Sylus. She’s the one who needs to disappear!”

~~

Back at his hideout, Sylus was careful to ensure that Diana remained oblivious to your presence in another room. He was already grappling with how to manage the situation—torn between the woman he loved and the woman he had wronged who, ironically, were both now under the same roof. The thought of you two crossing paths was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with, so he gave strict orders to the twins, notorious for their loose lips and loud mouths, to keep Diana far from you.

Because when Sylus returned to your room, he knew you were awake. The dark classical music playing from the vinyl record had likely stirred you from unconsciousness. It had been nearly a week since the crash, but thanks to his meticulous care, your wounds had mostly healed, leaving only faint scars behind.

“You can’t hide from me forever.” Sylus hovered over you to whisper into your ear, summoning his protective black-red mist to slowly release you. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.” 

When you finally opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity, Sylus told himself it was natural to feel relieved, that it was only right for his heart to soften at the sight of you returning to consciousness. But as you awoke, the voices in his head—the damned, relentless voices—grew louder, mocking him, provoking him, and luring him into darker thoughts. His right eye began to glow like a flickering candle, and when he saw the fear on your face, the words that followed weren’t his own. They were driven by the unforgiving side of him he couldn’t control, a side that thrived on your terror. The beast that couldn’t be tamed. 

She’s a traitor.

Punish her. 

Hurt her. 

Devour her. 

While in a heated, dramatic exchange with you, Sylus was spewing words he didn’t mean. He was doing actions without regard. He was mocking your pain. Your jealousy. Your heartbreak. The drive to hurt you was strong in his head, but he fought desperately against it. The demon inside him that tried to consume his every thought. He tried to battle his own self just to protect you. 

“I betrayed you because of her!” 

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened, replaced by the wicked smile on his face that enjoyed seeing you suffer. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but Sylus pressed his foot firmly on your wrist. She betrayed you, Sylus. Punish her. 

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with corrupt satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

It wasn’t until you reached for the gun on his nightstand, pointing it at yourself, that Sylus snapped out of his dark trance. The horror in his eyes was a stark contrast to the sorrowful shine in yours as you stood there, sobbing in front of him. Each word you spoke was tailed with the pain of a heart shattered by everything he had done and said. 

“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment, but your heart had already been blown into smithereens. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened and a flicker of regret passed across his face, you had already made your decision when your finger tightened on the trigger. The recoil jolted your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. Instead of ending your life, the bullet shattered a window, ricocheting off the glass and disappearing into the night.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief.

You were barely responding to him as he cupped your cheeks and forced your lachrymose eyes to lock into his crimson ones. It was as though you had already resigned yourself to reality, that ending your own life would have been a better option than being with the man you hopelessly loved. 

“Y/N,” Sylus tried to shake you awake, desperate for you to look into his eyes. “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.” 

“...I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was overwhelmed by a profound, indescribable pain that pierced his chest. It was a pain that mirrored yours but was infinitely more intense. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me,” he said in a low, softened voice, “It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe. Why don’t you listen?” He longed to pull you into his arms, but the crushing reality was that he only now realized how deeply he cared for you. It was devastating that his awakening had come at the cost of your near-suicide, forced by a love he was unable to return.

Was it truly too late for him to come to terms with his feelings for you? Was it too late to accept that he had fallen in love with you rather than the woman he believed he was meant to be with?

His answer came in the form of a gut-wrenching realization. It manifested in the frantic voice of Diana—the woman he believed he loved, piercing through the haze of his thoughts by yelling, “Sylus, step back!”

“No!” he shouted, his black-red mist swirling to intercept the bullet.

But his efforts came too late. The bullet had already been set in motion, and it tore through the side of your head. 

It penetrated your skull with a cruel precision, not just once but twice. And the warmth of your blood seeped through his fingers as he caught your head before you fell onto the floor. 

Sylus’s mind raced with the enormity of what had just happened. His face grew ashen as he looked at your bloodied head and lifeless eyes, a wave of acid welling up his chest until he couldn’t breath. But the reason for his suffocation was because of his own guilt and grief. It was at the force of a sledgehammer when he was hit with the admission that he had always been in love with you. All along, despite your tangled mess, it was you who had captured his heart in this world.

His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, broken bursts, while he held you close in his arms. And your last three words, your very last words of “I… love… you…” as you stared despairingly at him was icing on this bitter cake. 

No… no! 

He couldn’t fucking accept it. He was losing his mind, he was going insane. He was plunging into madness. Utter hysteria. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking as your eyes, once full of life and light, were now glazed over with the sheen of death. “Don’t leave. No, I can’t let this happen!” For the first time in a long time, he once again felt hot tears leaving his eyes. It was an emotion so rare it only ever showed toward the people he deeply cared about. “I love you too,” he struggled to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said back there.”

Sylus held you close, disregarding the blood staining his clothes while he was consumed by agony and regret. He had driven you to this, pushed you away, and then drawn you back into his orbit only to lose you forever. 

Though he may have conquered your heart, in doing so, he had only destroyed the both of you. The memory of your love and the warmth of your touch would haunt him for the rest of his days. And as he held your lifeless body, he knew that he would never be whole again.

But it shouldn’t be too late. No, it shouldn’t! He didn’t know if it was the hysteria or adrenaline kicking into him, but he had thought of an idea—no matter how immoral—that would return you back to him. He just couldn’t weigh which strong emotion he had to deal with first; should he grab the gun and shoot Diana out of anger? Or should he ignore her presence entirely and just focus on you?

Sylus chose to proceed with the latter as he carried you through the corridors of the base, his steps heavy with guilt and his shirt drenched in blood as you remained unconscious in his arms. The hunter girl had followed him in his spiritless steps, her eyes wide with confusion over his anguish.

“Sylus, why are you doing this?!” she demanded, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. “She would’ve killed you. That girl’s a traitor!”

Although he stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really return her gaze. His eyes could only look at your lifeless ones. “That girl you shot in the head,” he spoke low and in despair, “is my woman.” 

Diana was horrified. “But… but you never said—” Before she could finish, the twins intervened, holding her back from pursuing Sylus further. “What about me?”

He had already turned away. “I’ll fulfill my promise to protect you from afar, but this is where our paths part. Do not come near me again.”

~~

Sylus stood over your unconscious body, his eyes bloodshot and tears-streaked, while his heart pounded with a mix of grief and desperation. He had summoned Philip and the finest surgeons he knew to his hideout, where you lay in a medical bed, exposed and vulnerable, as if you were a subject in a desperate experiment.

Philip arrived with a grim expression, his eyes scanning the scene with both skepticism and professional detachment. Sylus could barely contain his desperation as he demanded, “Do everything you can to save her. Even if it means infusing a high-grade protocore in her brain.” After all, he had plenty of that. Sylus had all the resources, protocores of the highest grade, each with their own purpose and capabilities.

Yet Philip hesitated, his face contorting with concern. “Mr. Sylus, you know I can’t do this. She’s gone. The best thing to do is accept—”

That was when Sylus’s composure cracked. He kicked the nearby chair out of rage, tears streaming down his face as he begged, “You’ve done it before. Do it again! Please, I need her to live!”

The sight of Sylus, usually so imposing and dominant, breaking down in front of him was shocking. Philip felt a pang of sympathy toward the Onychinus boss who was willing to do everything for a woman who was already dead. His hands trembled as he spoke, “I-I can try. But I’m warning you, Mr. Sylus… even if she survives this, there’s zero chance her memories will be the same. They may even become altered, and it will be out of our control.”

Sylus’s gaze never left you. “I don’t mind. Just do it.”

~~

Weeks later, Sylus found himself in a secluded alleyway, meeting with a deepspace hunter who was also an enemy of his from another planet. Of course, the atmosphere was tense as both men stood in front of each other, eye-to-eye, carrying a defensive stance from one another. 

They were never friends. But that day, they weren’t enemies either. 

“How’s she?” Xavier broke the silence first. 

Sylus answered with a low voice. “She hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable.”

“Why’d you ask to meet?”

“I want you to look after her,” the Onychinus leader began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of desperation, “Speak to the Association about taking Y/N back and forgiving her for her betrayal. In return, I’ll step away from Diana’s life. She’s all yours. I just want Y/N to return to her normal life.”

Xavier’s expression was serious. “You’re forgetting you still have a bounty on your head.”

“And you’re forgetting you and your backtrackers destroyed the planet where I was living,” he replied in equal disdain, but only enough to trap Xavier into a wall of guilt and obligation.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Lumiere—or, in his current form, the deepspace hunter, Xavier. “The HIS will be easy to convince. But what if she wakes up and wants to go back to the N109 Zone?”

Sylus felt a tug of deep sadness pulling at his heart. “She won’t. Her memories of me are gone for good.” 

~~

If this was his karma for hurting you, then it was definitely the worst kind. 

Sylus maintained a distant watch over you after you returned to Linkon, observing from afar as you rejoined your life with the support of the Hunter’s Association and former colleagues. Each day, he sent Mephisto to monitor your whereabouts, carefully tracking your interactions and daily activities. The mechanical crow often returned with glimpses of your life, which Sylus scrutinized with intense focus as if he were watching a movie. Each glimpse offered him a sense of relief, happiness even, at knowing how easy you were settling back into your old life. 

You had been officially dismissed from the Hunter’s Association due to a medical condition that rendered you unfit for duty, but they continued to cover your pension and provided free lodging—likely thanks to Xavier’s persuasive influence over the Association. The official story was that you had been sent on a dangerous mission where a Wanderer had placed you in a life-threatening predicament. The narrative praised your honor and dedication to the end. There was no mention of Sylus, Onychinus, or the N109 Zone. No hint of the life you had once led or the truth behind your memory erasure. 

Yet, in a bitter twist of irony, perhaps the story you were told may not actually be farther from the truth.

After all, Sylus was the dangerous monster that sent you to that life-and-death situation.

But at least now, you were well cared for. So much so that Sylus fought to contain his jealousy whenever Mephisto’s eyes relayed visions of you sharing lunch with a physician named Dr. Zayne. He struggled to mask his irritation as he saw the man drape an arm around your shoulders while guiding you out of the hospital or wrapping a scarf around your neck to keep you warm. He would often even drive you home and send you gifts that were masked as tokens of “recovery.”

Bullshit.

Sylus clenched his fist, his thoughts of jealousy consuming him. My girl, he thought in despair, my beautiful girl is cherished by other men, while he remained imprisoned in the desolate shadows of the N109 Zone, longing for you.

Eventually, Sylus felt an overwhelming urge to see you in person. After discovering that you had taken a job at a café in Bloomshore District, he convinced himself that observing you from a distance wouldn’t cause harm. He just wanted to be near you, to ensure your safety, and to protect you from any potential threats.

As he sat on a nearby bench, Luke joined him with a comment. “Boss, you said we needed to disappear from her life.”

Kieran, taking a seat on Sylus’s other side, added, “Do you think she’d recognize us if we walked into that café? If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a hard time with my orders ‘til she remembers us!”

“Ha ha! Let’s do that!” 

“Boss, let’s go!” 

“Leave her be.” Sylus took a deep breath, adjusting his sunglasses and setting aside his newspaper—part of his disguise—as he watched you through the café window. He noticed the subtle traces of familiarity in your actions, but the connections that once bound you were now distant memories. “...I’m just here to make sure no one’s bothering her.”

The truth was, he wrestled with his emotions each time he visited the café you were working at. He wanted to approach you, to speak to you, but he hesitated each time because of the fear of rejection and the pain of seeing you not remember him holding him back. There were so many what-ifs in his head that it drove him insane to think about. 

Because if anything, what if you were already seeing someone else? What if you were already in a relationship with that scumbag doctor from the Akso Hospital? 

It was petty jealousy that drove Sylus into stepping into the café. And the first time your eyes met since you resurrected, his heart initially froze, then raced uncontrollably. His heart swelled with hope as you looked up at him, but it was quickly replaced by the lack of recognition in your eyes the moment you spoke from the counter. 

“Hi. What can I get you?” you asked, treating him no differently than any other customer. 

Sylus was caught off-guard, but he knew he had to play the part. “I, uh, I’ll get an Americano. Large.” 

“Alright, sir. And your name, please?” you asked, following your routine without any real interest in the man before you. 

But in a way, this was a relief for Sylus. It confirmed that the protocore embedded in your head was functioning as intended, and that any dark memories from the past had been completely erased, even if it meant he was no longer part of your life. 

“Skye,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s my name.”

~~

There wasn’t a single day Sylus missed visiting the café. 

At first, he worried that his constant presence might seem odd, or that you might think of him as a stalker. But as the days passed, seeing you became an essential part of his routine. A day without catching a glimpse of you felt incomplete, almost maddening. Seeing you was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

Initially, you found his regular visits a bit strange, but gradually, the small interactions between you two evolved. Sylus began to appear at the café just when you needed him most—whether it was fixing a broken coffee machine, addressing rude customers, or simply offering a helping hand. These acts of kindness somehow transformed your view of him. What started as a customer-service relationship slowly became more personable, and in recent days, you often greeted him warmly and smiled whenever he walked in. If only you knew how badly it warmed his heart that he got to do things for you without making him feel like he was intruding in your life.

And to be honest, Sylus even felt like he might be—as Luke termed it—foolishly ”crushing” on you. 

“Who knew our boss-man could be a hopeless romantic~?”

There was a time when he visited the café, only to find out from your manager that you called in sick from work. Sylus knew where you lived, but going to your place uninvited was a different story. He had to put some boundaries no matter how worried he was for you. But that was when Mephisto became useful; the mechanical crow would simply fly off to your place and observe you from outside. Then, an idea to drop a box of medicines and chocolates at your balcony was something he had thought of at the last minute. 

Back in the N109 Zone, Sylus anxiously looked at his crow. “Are you sure she didn’t see you?” 

“Caw! Caw!” 

“Did she eat the chocolates?” he asked, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t think he was holding.

“Caw! Caw! Caaaw!” Mephisto responded, fluttering its wings as if to reassure him.

~~

And then, that day happened. 

The day Sylus finally gathered the courage to ask you out, fate had other plans. And what began as a simple gesture to offer you a ride home during a stormy night quickly escalated into something far more intense.

Because one moment, he was offering you a ride. The next, he found himself in your bed, having the most passionate sex he had ever had with someone. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it that, because it felt more like he was making love to you, even if to you, he was probably just an attractive guy you unexpectedly hooked up with. 

So, he had to make himself known. He had to hear his real name leaving your lips. “Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curves, “Call me Sylus, kitten.” 

That night, he was an insatiable man who could only be satisfied by his woman. 

When he was buried far too deep inside you, he enjoyed the sight of ecstasy on your face and lavished at the sounds of your titillating moans with his every thrust. Not only did he miss the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft, he also remembered how badly you used to want him to cum inside you. 

And so, he did just that. At his climax, he released hot spurts of seed into your womb, fulfilling a wish from the past that he used to deprive you of. 

But as the night progressed and the heat of the moment faded, the conversation shifted to a more profound and emotional terrain. Sylus wrestled with the urge to reveal the truth about his true identity—every painful detail and the secrets he kept from you. Yet, he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further and risk causing you more pain. The idea of hurting you again, after such a meaningful connection, was unbearable to him, especially now that you were still fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment. 

“Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?” 

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he pressed, forcing you to believe the narrative with his rueful eyes staring back at you. “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.” 

“Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” He caressed your back as you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, crestfallen as he thought of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.” 

~~

Your relationship with Sylus remained unclear since that night. And it seemed as though the roles had reversed—now he was the one left wondering where he stood in your life. Because on the surface, it did seem like you were willing to work on building a relationship with him again, but every encounter you two had were always physical rather than emotional. 

Sylus found himself at your apartment frequently, three or more times a week, engaging in intense, passionate encounters. He had lost track of how many times you two could do it in a single night, exploring every possible position, in every corner of your home. He had tried his hardest to make you feel like he was the only man who was more familiar with every inch of your body than anyone else. Yet, despite the physical closeness, he sensed that the emotional barriers between you remained intact.

No matter how deeply intertwined your bodies became, the walls around your heart remained firmly in place, and Sylus knew that there was a part of you he still couldn’t reach.

That, and the fact that he was still seeing you interact a little too closely with that doctor from Akso. 

It somehow didn’t surprise you when Sylus’s car showed up outside the hospital to pick you up, and you got on with a guarded look. 

“How’s it for my kitten today?” Sylus asked as he secured your seatbelt, his lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. “You didn’t mention you’d be at the hospital.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I just... didn’t think I needed to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Dammit. He knew you weren’t officially together, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. And it didn’t help that Sylus’s pride couldn’t naturally take it, so he probed more. “That doctor. He’s not your neurologist, is he? It seems a little inappropriate for him to always be around you like that.”

“Well, I’ve known Zayne for a long time,” you merely replied, eyes focused on the view outside rather than the driver of the car. “I’d also appreciate it if you'd be less territorial over me, Sylus. I know you said we have a history together, but I don’t remember a thing, so… I hope you won’t rush me.” 

The Sylus you knew back then would have been enraged. Who were you to order him around? Who were you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do over someone he rightfully owned? But he was a changed man now, and it was all because of you. You were the beauty that tamed him into a powerless beast.

“I understand,” Sylus replied, swallowing his pride as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. “I apologize.”

He heard you sigh beside him, and a part of him wondered if it was out of sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, you spoke up, your tone more serious. “I was at the hospital today because I had a pregnancy scare.”

Sylus hit the brakes at the red light a bit too abruptly, his heart racing in excitement. “Are you?”

“No, thank God,” you breathed out in relief. “But... can you please stop doing it inside? I really don’t like it. It’s not smart for me to get pregnant by a man I barely know.”

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t describe. The old you nearly begged him for a baby so he could be yours forever, but he was aware that this version of you right now was not the same. It never would be, and that was the price he had to pay for love. 

“I won’t do it again.” Once again, swallowing his pride. “I’m sorry.” 

You still invited him to sleep at your apartment that night, and your reason being to work on the memories of him you had lost. Time and time again did Sylus tell you it was better you didn’t remember them, but he could also understand your dilemma when you told him that you always felt like a piece of you was missing ever since that “accident”. 

“And this ugly scar on my temple,” you pointed it out, settling into your side of the bed. “What kind of Wanderer did I fight for me to get a traumatic brain injury?”

Sylus placed a tender kiss on your scar. “Perhaps it was a heartless monster more terrifying than a Wanderer.” 

Like me. 

“Oh, well.” You pulled the sheets over your body, suggesting you two would have no action tonight. “Good night, Sylus.” 

“...Sleep tight, kitten.” 

You didn’t need to worry, though, because he wouldn’t have touched you even if you had explicitly asked him to. After hearing your words that afternoon—about not wanting to get pregnant by him and asking him to stop being so territorial—Sylus felt the need to pull back and be more cautious in his actions toward you. Your words had cut deep, but he understood you were only protecting yourself from a man who was, essentially, still a stranger to you.

And despite the sting, he had promised himself that he would be patient for the only woman he cared about.

~~

However, that same night was a different story. 

No, it was actually way past midnight when Sylus woke up from an agonizing scream that pierced the silence of the night, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, his hand reached out to the side of the bed where you should have been, but the sheets were cold and empty. And then panic gripped him, forcing him to leap out of bed, his mind racing with a single horrifying thought: the protocore.

He darted outside of your bedroom and deeper into your apartment space, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The image of you, eyes wild and frenzied, ravaged by the effects of the protocore, haunted him.

What if it’s happening now? What if I lose her for good?

The horrifying thought of the protocore making you berserk like a wild Wanderer was always there.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw you on the kitchen floor, curled up, your body wracked with sobs. Relief washed over him to have found you, but it was fleeting, replaced by a deeper, more insidious fear. He tried to approach you cautiously, his voice soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You flinched at his touch, and when you turned to face him, the sight made his blood run cold. Your eyes, usually so warm, were now wide and filled with tears—tears of terror, of anger. And in your trembling hand, you held a knife, its blade gleaming in the low light as you pointed it directly at his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” you cried, your voice breaking at every word. Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat as your sudden hostility surprised him. The knife’s tip hovered dangerously close to his skin, but it wasn’t the threat of violence that shook him—it was the raw, unfiltered pain in your eyes.

“Kitten, let’s talk about it calmly.” His voice was laced with cautiousness. 

“Stop calling me that!” You swallowed hard, your grip on the knife tightening. “You! I had a nightmare... about you. But it felt real, like a memory. You were torturing me at your base, laughing... and then, you shot me in the head.”

Sylus’s heart dropped into his stomach at hearing your altered memory. He felt his soul tear apart at the edges as he stared into your tear-streaked face. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, kitten.”

But you weren’t listening. “But is it also not real? That you…” You uttered each word with a threatening voice, “are the boss of Onychinus?”

The question hit him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to form. He was trapped. The situation felt like a dead end—he could deny that your dream was a real memory, but admitting he was the leader of Onychinus would only validate that lie.

His silence alone was an answer to you. And your expression crumbled into one of betrayal at that. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

The anger in your voice enforced the stillness of Sylus’s breath. He knew he had no saving grace from this situation, but still, he took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you—”

“Get out!” you screamed, the knife shaking in your hand. The sight of you so broken, so shattered, tore him apart. “Get the hell out of my sight! I don’t wanna see you ever again, you monster!”

But Sylus couldn’t leave—not like this, not when you were hurting because of him. So in his desperation, he lunged forward, grabbed your wrist, and forced the knife into his own chest. The sharp pain radiated through him as he plunged the blade in and stabbed himself repeatedly, his face twisted in agony, but not from the physical pain. This was nothing compared to the torment of knowing he was the source of your suffering. Again. 

“Even if I can’t die,” he choked out, his voice ragged as he tried to absorb the stinging ache in his chest, “I’ll take all of this pain away from you.”

His own blood soaked his fingers, staining your hands as he released his grip on the knife. It fell on the floor as he stepped back, his heart aching more than his wounds ever could, but those wounds easily healed. The pain of losing you again, on the other hand, would never heal.

He looked at you one last time, seeing his monstrous reflection from your frightened eyes, before turning away. Sylus walked out of the apartment with heavy steps, feeling his soul crushed from your antagonism. He knew he had lost you—perhaps forever—and the realization was more than he could bear.

~~

A haze of cigarette smoke and the clink of glasses filled the air of the bar. Sylus sat alone at the counter, his new glass of whiskey untouched as he stared blankly into the amber liquid. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his heart after that agonizing night with you. Every swallow of the hard liquor was a desperate attempt to drown out the torment of recent events, but the pain lingered, and it was damn persistent and unforgiving.

As he poured himself another drink, the muffled sounds of conversation around him blended into a dull roar. That was until a familiar voice cut through the haze—someone he wished he hadn’t come across.

“Sylus?” 

He looked up, squinting against the dim light, to see Diana standing before him. He hadn’t seen him for the past year or so. And surely, her presence was unexpected, but he felt a sudden tinge of irritation at the sight of her. While her, she looked both apprehensive and determined, as if she had just made a hard decision to confront him. 

“H-How have you been?” she asked the question as a conversation starter, but Sylus could see the faint hint of unease in her eyes.

He then straightened up, and his posture became stiff and defensive. “I told you it’s not wise for us to cross paths,” he said curtly, his voice slurred from the alcohol but still holding a note of finality. He didn’t want to engage, not with her, not tonight.

On the one hand, Diana’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. “I… I wanted to say sorry for what happened with Y/N. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. Xavier… told me everything. About you and her.”

The apology was genuine, but the mention of your name was a fresh wound, and he felt the anger and sadness surge again, bubbling beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He wanted to lash out, to blame her for everything, but he swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. In the end, this was all his doing and he couldn’t point fingers over the mess that he alone had created.

Sylus tried to stand up, the room spinning slightly as he steadied himself. “I’m leaving.”

But Diana stepped closer, her hand reaching out as if to stop him. He simply brushed past her, his movements unsteady but undeniably distancing from her. The desire to remain composed was slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality he faced every day since you were taken from him.

He made his way to the exit, pushing through the bar’s heavy door with a forceful shove. Sylus’s next move was to lean against the wall outside as the cool winter breeze blew on his face. 

“Boss.” Kieran’s voice held a note of concern as he and his twin steadied Sylus by wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “We’ll take you home.”

Luke glanced at his brother with a sad glint in his eyes before leading Sylus toward the car. “Maybe it’s time to let her go, boss.”

~~

February nights were the coldest. And it was supposedly the day for lovers, too. 

Unlike the couples that littered the riverside, Sylus stood alone, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. His dark coat offered little protection against the biting wind, but he stayed committed, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse before him. Four hours had passed since he had sent you the message, and each minute he stood there waiting for you felt like an eternity. The biting cold gnawed at him, but he was determined to wait even if he’d end up getting frostbite. It was the least he could do.

The frozen river’s surface glistened with a thousand points of light as the moon cast its silver glow over the landscape. And for the next thirty minutes that passed, he was still alone. 

She won’t be coming, said the voice in his head. Give up. 

As he prepared to leave, the ache of disappointment settled in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, standing cautiously across him, your eyes wide and filled with both curiosity and trepidation. The sight of you, despite waiting in the cold for hours, instantly warmed his freezing body. 

“Thank you for coming.” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “I won’t keep you long.” 

You maintained your distance, wary of his next move. “Why did you want to meet?” 

With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel the scarf from around your neck, and he felt a prick in his heart seeing you flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He waited until you allowed him to proceed, his fingers brushing against your skin in a touch that was both gentle and reverent. You looked at him with confusion, the chilly air fought by the warmth of your breath. Sylus was just carefully replacing the scarf with the necklace he had given you long ago, the red Beryl crystal catching the light and sending soft, radiant glimmers into the night. 

Do you even recognize it? 

“I’m just returning a gift, kitten.”

As he fastened the clasp behind your neck, he pressed a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened. That small gesture of his was actually carried by the depth of his affection and regret. And, if you may, it was his silent apology for all that he did to you.

“Sylus…” 

His red eyes shimmered, intensified by the bloodshot whites. Sylus stared at your face with a mixture of love and ruefulness clouding his expression. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, with his voice breaking as he feathered the snowflakes that rested on your hair. “Take care of yourself. Always lock your doors at night and stay warm.” He took the scarf Zayne gave you, and pulled out a new one from his coat. It was a silly scarf with kitten prints all over it, that he soon carefully wrapped around your face and neck. “Wear that whenever you can.” 

Your own eyes were large and rimmed with tears as though you were also hurting inside. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, keeping the weakness inside. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.” 

Sylus’s gaze was suddenly directed back to the river, but it was only because he had to avoid looking at your eyes or he would lose it. “The Association managed to track me here in Linkon and they’re still after me. I just managed to escape, but I can’t stay here,” he explained calmly, “I only came back to this city because of you… But now, I have to disappear, so don’t worry about having me around. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and the tears that had been pooling your eyes finally spilled over. “Are you crazy?” you cried, seemingly unable to comprehend the words he was spewing. “You’re leaving me?”

Sylus’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, but he had to restrain any weakness by giving in. Instead, he reached out, and his hand trembled as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He wanted to be the first one to say it this time. “Even if you regain all your memories of me—good or bad—I want you to know that I regret every pain I caused you. Even if you hate me, I’ll still love you. Today, tomorrow, and in our next lives.”

Sylus took one last, lingering look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrowful haze that nearly blinded his vision. He turned slowly, walking away from the river’s edge, with each step causing distance from the love he was leaving behind.

And you, you stood there, the necklace around your neck feeling heavy as you watched him disappear into the night. A surge of emotion overwhelmed you, and without thinking, you sprinted towards him. You took quick, long strides just to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace, and crashing your lips against his in a bittersweet kiss.

Both of you cried as the kiss deepened, and you were encasing each other’s lips in a tight lock. The intensity of your emotions poured out in this poignant, intimate moment. And frankly, Sylus had never been this emotional. No one had ever seen this fragile side of him that he had always kept hidden. After all, what dominant, cruel boss of Onychinus would spill tears over a woman?

But they wouldn’t understand it. They never would. 

When you finally pulled away, your eyes were red and swollen from tears. “Be careful,” you sniffled, barely unable to catch the breath you needed for the next. “Keep in touch if you can. And when I’m ready, I’ll find you.”

Sylus’s eyes were also filled with tears, but he managed a forlorn smile as he nodded. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll wait,” he promised softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Until we meet again.”

As he stepped back, the distance between you seemed impossibly vast, but the promise in your eyes and the love in his heart made the separation bearable, if only just. And when Sylus turned away, his heart was heavy but full of the hope that one day, you would find each other again. That one day, this distant love would become a cherished memory that you would look back on as you grow old and wrinkled, yet insurmountably happy and content with the life you had lived. With or without him.

PREVIOUS PART

[sunderwight]

Imagining a scenario where Shen Qingqiu clocks some of the lingering tension between the peak lords and Luo Binghe after they get married, and so looks up what all the rights & privileges of a peak lord's spouse are (because really only the ascetic peak has restrictions against marriage), and then just like. Heaps them onto Binghe.

Fine robes and ornaments in Qing Jing's style. A title. Appropriate authority over Shen Qingqiu's disciples and junior sect siblings. Technically Binghe is also entitled to use of his own residence, and there's a building on the peak that is at least nominally reserved for the peak lord's wife, but it hasn't been used in a long time and Binghe would cry if Shen Qingqiu even suggested living in separate buildings (and Shen Qingqiu would also not like it but shhh). So he doesn't get that, exactly, but Shen Qingqiu does have the building freshened up and aired out as a place where Binghe can house guests from the demon realms, or potentially his own personal disciples (should he desire to take any on one day).

Binghe accompanies Shen Qingqiu to peak lord meetings in his capacity as husband, rather than disciple, which means Binghe also gets to sit at the table instead of standing behind Shen Qingqiu's seat.

But really just, Shen Qingqiu making a point of doing everything extremely officially to really drive home that he married Binghe, and he expects Binghe to be treated with respect and not suspicion or derision or any of the other bad habits that his fellow peak lords have displayed. Not just with Binghe, but also towards the original goods in the past (SJ might have been a piece of work, but the fact also remains that most of what his sect siblings thought of him was inaccurate). SQQ scraping up every bit of political acumen he can find from all the books he read and PIDW itself and his own history as the son of a wealthy family, and being like, "if I don't want Binghe to be bullied, I must make it clear that he has my favor!"

Meanwhile everyone already knows Luo Binghe is Shen Qingqiu's favorite, like man they know it so much already, more than they'd like to, but it's not like they can SAY anything because actually putting the right hair ornament onto Luo Binghe's head and making the disciples address him as Shimu is in fact more appropriate than all the other ways Shen Qingqiu displayed his favoritism so far. It's just driving several of the other peak lords slowly insane because it's backwards! The order of things is all messed up! Shen Qingqiu can't truly expect them to start respecting this disgraceful mess of a relationship now, can he?!

Of course he can. Also Yue Qingyuan is backing him up. (Yue Qingyuan actually finds this kind of amusing, because it's very on-brand for both versions of Shen Qingqiu to get embroiled in a controversial mess only to retroactively go "oh yeah, respectability politics are a thing" and then just try and brazenly bluff his way through it.)

Meanwhile Binghe is very much enjoying himself. Could he stop anyone in the sect from actually mistreating him in a heartbeat? Of course. He could kill any of them, they all know it, and Binghe is not unaware of how to leverage that kind of fear into compliance, if not respect. But then he'd have to go stalking around being tyrannical all the time, and he does that enough as the demon emperor.

It's far more enriching to let people be rude to him and then hang his head and "nobly endure" the mistreatment, just to watch Shen Qingqiu's eyes narrow and his fan snap shut before he lets out some cutting remark and then lavishes another sign of his favor onto Luo Binghe. Binghe's wildest teenage fantasies were made of this stuff! He's living the dream!

[finalgirlmoment]

Noteworthy details about the first two PJOTV episodes (spoilers)

First of all, every single of them ATE DOWN. just wanted to throw that out there, i'm so so impressed with the cast, everyone was perfect and gorgeous and i'm completely sat for any and all future installments. A fine piece of media. Let's begin.

Percy's confusion and bewilderment finding out that he's a demigod. "You fell in love with God.... like, Jesus????" LMFAO but seriously his frustration in this moment, thinking there's something actually wrong with his brain, feeling lost and confused and hurt and BROKEN. the struggle in that moment is so relatable to people discovering they have some sort of mental illness or neurodivergence, especially when they weren't believed/listened to etc and i think walker played this part beautifully

GROVER AND PERCY PLAYING MYTHOMAGIC TOGETHER. GROVER AND PERCY PLAYING MYTHOMAGIC TO TRAIN PERCY. I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING OFF ROOFTOPS THE IMPLICATIONS THAT THIS HAS???? ARE YOU ACTUALLY JOKING??????? IMAGINE SEASON 3 PERCY FINDS NICO AND THEY HAVE THIS IN COMMON???????????!?!?!?!?!? FEELING SEVERELY FRANTIC AND MASSIVELY UNWELL ABOUT THIS

luke's empathy towards Percy throughout-- his apologies for what happened to his mother at the bottom of Half Blood Hill, him telling P that he relates to the nightmares, the restlessness, the ADHD..... so fucking sick and fucking twisted, I will be sobbing at the ending, gorgeous job on both ends on making this relationship feel very warm and authentic and the trust starting to build. this will H U R T.

CLARISSE. she's so gorgeous and vindictive. Her beauty took me off guard initially, but she's such a spiteful little badass that I completely fell in love with her. I CANNOT WAIT to see more of her characterization, especially into season two. perfection.

Percy burning the blue jelly beans- the thing he'd miss most- out in the middle of the woods at night in a damn can, just to pray to his MOTHER. *sobbing intensifies* i couldn't ask for a more sweet, heartfelt, honest moment. the perfect addition. 10s across the board

Percy's ANGER. OH BOY this was one of my most favorite parts. I feel like we see Percy as a very happy-go-lucky kid altogether but I loved, LOVED to see his frustration and agitation from the very beginning. Everything is so confusing and foreign and all he knows is that 1. he's been betrayed or left behind by everyone he knows and 2. he's been ignored his whole life by his godly parent. His mission is to MAKE HIS DAD SEE PERCY, at ANY COST. Before he even knows who his dad is. He is entitled to feel ALL of this anger and hurt and resentment!!!!!!!

Annabeth calling Percy "sunshine". TOTAL CULTURAL RESET. I gasped. The dawn of a new age of Percabeth. I will be screaming into my pillow about this for the foreseeable future.

The entire characterization of Percy throughout the capture the flag scene. His contrast of being just a kid- flossing (lol), peeing the woods, petting a gecko, just vibing and hanging out VS. being thrown suddenly into attack from his peers that don't care about the rules, surprising himself and everyone around him with his finesse in battle, quick instincts, swordsmanship..... i'm weak fr. I can't wait to see him grow, train, become stronger and more confident.

Overall, I'm entirely floored and beyond happy. I can't wait to see more. 10/10

[swarovskiseraph]

SOME* OF YA'LL ARE NEVER GOING TO GET YOUR DESIRES, AND YOU'LL HAVE NO ONE TO BLAME BUT YOURSELVES

*WARNING: TOUGH LOVE RANT. also, like everything in life, take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not doing anything i mention in this post, then this post doesn't apply to you.

before anyone comes for me, MOST of us are going through (or have gone through) hard circumstances. many of us have come from abusive households, abusive relationships, poverty, homelessness, & just overall bad circumstances.

but you know why the bloggers & anons who succeed in manifesting their desires/desired lives ACTUALLY SUCCEED?

because they took accountability for their current state and their limiting patterns.

because they were disciplined & determined enough to claim their desire(s), apply the law, & persist regardless of EVERYTHING.

because they knew that this practice would actually change their lives forever and allowed NOTHING to stand in their way.

AND GUESS WHAT? NOW THEY HAVE THEIR DESIRES/DESIRED LIFE!

if you were to be 100% honest and tell me why after months/years of being in this community you STILL haven't manifested your desires/desired life yet, what would be the answer?

overconsumption? procrastination? laziness? lack of persistence?

whatever the case may be, what i do know for a FACT is that it has been no one's fault but YOURS.

many of you guys come running on this platform; asking the same repetitive questions, complaining about not seeing results, whining about how sad your life is and how hard your circumstances are, or just straight up hating on some of these bloggers that are helping you FOR FREE, when they could be using that time to enjoy their desires/the life that they manifested for themselves.

LIKE...DO YOU REALIZE HOW PATHETIC & ENTITLED SOME OF YOU GUYS ARE?

"can you pleaseee manifest/tap into the void for me?" 🥺

"im so lazyyy, i can't be bothered to persist..." 🥱

"loa is FAKE! you guys are a bunch of lying b***hes..." 🤬

"my life is sooo hard, i have such a horrible life...*continues to trauma dump*" 😭

OHHH MYYY F*CKINGGG GODDD!

there are MILLIONS of people in the world who are in unfavorable/horrible circumstances that have NO IDEA what the law of assumption is, and have NO WAY to access this type of information!

you guys literally have the knowledge and awareness to make the most beautiful life possible for yourselves with JUST YOUR IMAGINATION, and yet, A LOT of you guys are the most ungrateful, lazy, irresolute, undisciplined whiners, who don't want to do even the BARE MINIMUM to change your entire lives!!

TRUST ME, everyone on this platform (including myself) understands that there will be setbacks. we all know that they are going to be bad days. we all understand that everyone has their own personal/mental issues. we get that life has obstacles and that not every day will be a win.

BUT, you guys NEED to put in the effort & not give up! you guys NEED to STOP letting your ego win! you guys NEED to get tf off of social media and stop overconsuming information. you guys NEED to claim your desires/desired life, stay consistent & persist until your desires/desired life has materialized.

because guess what, a day turns into a year pretty quickly, and you'll have gone another year of NOT having your desires/desired life, and it's going to be no one's fault but yourself...

do you REALLY want another year of watching everyone else get what they want besides you? do you REALLY want another year of not having your desired appearance, your sp, or financial freedom?

REALLY?

i hope the answer is no...because that's a HUGE waste of time that could be used to actually have the things & life you want.

everyone deserves to live the life they want...but at the end of the day, no one & nothing has the power to manifest the life you want but YOU.

[annerbhp]

If you would but indulge this fandom elder for a few moments, I'd like to point out a few things that I think can make all of our fannish experiences on this hellsite (affectionate) so much more joyful.

Try not to treat yourself or others as "content-providers."

This happens when you allow yourself to be influenced by real or imagined expectations and demands of others. "But I know people want..." "But people would expect me to..." "But they might not like it if I..." "It's been too long since I've written/posted anything..." "What if people get upset if I..." These are the joy killers. The only questions you should ask yourself when posting stuff to tumblr (or not) is "does this bring me joy right now?" and "would this cause harm?" That's it. You can also tag liberally so people can block stuff if they want. That's also a nice thoughtful thing to do. But try not to let the nebulous concept of "people"--your followers, your readers, the internet at large, or whatever--become a bogeyman in your own head. Most of us already have enough internal critics trying to trip us up at any given moment. Try not to invent more.

Treating others as "content-providers" happens if you send asks or comments to someone on this site demanding more content of a specific type, or insinuating that you are entitled to something from that person. You are communicating to that person that they only have value as a content-provider, and only when providing whatever it is you want. This is dehumanizing and ignores the thousands of reasons that person might choose to be here. Tumblr is not a subscription service. No one is paying for anything here. Most people here are just doing stuff that makes them joyful and we are lucky enough that sometimes they share it with us too!

2. Fandom is not a marriage.

The concept of "being in a fandom" is actually incredibly nebulous, as it should be! There is nothing you need to do or declare to be "in a fandom." There is no minimum threshold of love, or time, or interaction, or "production." It's just a feeling. A place. A space that brings joy. (And sometimes, heartbreak, but that's another topic all together.)

Fandom is also not a marriage. You can't cheat on a fandom. You do not have to have formal divorce proceedings and let go of one fandom before messing around with another one. There's no such thing as fandom infidelity. Neither is fandom a job. You don't have to give two weeks' notice. You don't have to post public intent on the town hall. You're not banned once you step out, never to return. You can "take a break" without any moral implications or risk of becoming the focus of a pop culture debate about whether or not you were justified to mess around with another fandom during that time. You can leave a fandom and never go back, all without having to consciously decide to do so. You can fall out of love with a fandom and then fall back in love with it later. It's not a marriage/job! There are no rules!

3. Take ownership and curate your own experience.

If there is a thing, or a blog, or a person who once brought you joy, but on balance no longer does, or makes you more disappointed or annoyed or upset than not, you do not have to keep interacting with them/it. Following someone on tumblr is also not a marriage. You can follow/unfollow as you like, no harm, no foul. It's just curating your personal joy, and I hope we will always wish each other the best with that. If you are scared of "missing out on something," then you will either need to block tags enough to make it enjoyable, or decide unfollowing is worth the risk if it makes you too unhappy to keep following!

The ultimate thing is, it's up to you to curate your fannish experience. It is not up to the person you are following to change to fit your expectations or hopes. (See point #1.) You can feel ways about this, of course! But those are your feelings, which are yours to handle. Do not put them on the other person. Do not send them asks demanding things or lashing out. It won't make you feel better and it definitely won't get you what you are looking for, unless your actual aim is to kill the joy of another person so you are not upset alone. In that case I'm not sure what to tell you other than you might want to spend some time meditating on that one and think about if that's really the kind of person you want to be. Or if this kind of space is actually good for you.

That's it for now. Thank you for indulging me. Don't be a dick on the internet, friends. Take no shit and do no harm. Take care of yourselves! 💕

[germiyahu]

This phenomenon of so called Leftists throwing up their hands at the tiniest pushback, or criticism, or suggestions on how to not actively be antisemitic needs to be studied. Because what do you mean instead of just accepting that an antisemitic troll claiming to be on your side said "Zionist Occupied Government" and denouncing this and moving on with your life... you double down, defend, and deflect. It's classic DARVO, but like, when people are very patiently and slowly explaining how this is a literal KKK Nazi white supremacist fascist phrase, it's not enough? You don't care?

It's clear that the "pro Palestinian" left have been fully infiltrated by fascists, both Western fascists who have always been nakedly antisemitic and are finding the perfect avenue to mainstream their Jew hatred... and Islamist fascists who simply never cared that Jews are a global minority group that has faced oppression and violence in multiple different continents, they don't care about social justice or fundamental human rights. It's not part of their intellectual tradition.

The "pro" Palestine movement has been captured by people who have decided that a) Palestine is emblematic of all of the problems of the world, and that b) every Jew is worth sacrificing to correct these problems, because c) if Palestine is emblematic, aren't Zionists responsible for everything then?

Now the prevailing thought is that someone should be able to call for violence against Jews, someone should be able to harass or even assault Jewish Americans, because bringing it up, complaining, taking a stand, that's the equivalent of telling them you like children blowing up, you like hundreds of thousands of people being homeless and food insecure, you like prisoners being detained in Guantanamo conditions without due process, where anyone can torture them as revenge even if there's no proof they're an actual Hamas member.

Is there a reason they argue like Republican Fox News addicts? I guess that kind of explains how easily the "movement" is falling apart to literal fascists.

They say "nobody cares about your hurt feelings ZIONIST!" if you mention literal stabbings and firebombs. They say "but we should talk about how pervasively synagogues indoctrinate the vast majority of Jewish people with Zionist ideology." They roll their eyes because "don't you know Palestinians are suffering 200x what these cushy American Jews could even imagine?" Facts don't care about your feelings uwu~

But at the end of the day, they care a lot about their own feelings, much more so than the facts. They feel entitled to hate all Jews all over the planet, to secretly revel in antisemitic rhetoric and acts, to want to take out their impotent frustration and despair on any and all Jews they'd like. This is very much about their feelings and not any Jewish people's feelings.

They've been waiting for this, or many of them never cared at all. Now it's finally Leftist to quote Nazis and openly make fun of Jews who are getting stabbed. Now it's finally Leftist to call for incinerating all of Israel and maybe we should consider a lot of Diaspora Jews too, you know they can't be trusted! Oh but don't forget to honor the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, innocent civilians should never have been targeted by America's vicious imperial violence!

The fact that it took this substantial contingent of watermelon twitter less than a year to go full mask off like this... is that revealing or troubling?

[yallemagne]

I'm watching people trauma bond with Calypso from EPIC in real-time. Y'all. A character can be a woman and be a rapist at the same time. And her being a woman doesn't mean that ACTUALLY there's some trauma in her past that justifies her imprisoning men on her island and taking them to bed against their will, it means that she's a rapist that just happens to also be a woman.

I love how Calypso is depicted in EPIC, she's just dripping with a nastiness that is only matched by Penelope's entitled suitors. She's sugary sweet at the outset, but when Odysseus rather violently rejects her, she laughs at his rejection, saying he's adorable when he's angry and that he doesn't have any choice but to submit to her will as a god. And then she goes right back to the sweet lover in paradise ruse!!! It's sickening! She denies his autonomy because it gets in the way of the fantasy romance that she's forcing upon him.

So, I'm frustrated with people trying to paint it as though she's the victim in the situation, that what she's doing is somehow okay because she's a pretty woman and they feel bad for her. That's so patronizing.

I've seen people justify her behaviour by saying she's lonely. Tough shit get a hobby. Being starved for affection has never justified being an abuser.

I've seen people insist she truly cares about Odysseus because she tries to talk him down from suicide... but an abuser talking you down from taking drastic measures to escape their abuse isn't them showing genuine care, it's them not wanting the game to end, it's them exerting control over your very life. If anything, it's more disturbing because she is the one who drove him to be suicidal. So she's playing this game where she drives him to the precipice and then tries to lure him back down with "reminders" of "their love", those reminders actually being of the words of his dead loved ones that she's pilfered and warped as though they were her own.

The most ridiculous argument I've seen in defending Calypso's behaviour is saying that we can't use terms like "rapist" for her because "it was a different time" so "it's not certain whether or not what she did would be considered non-consensual for the time"... Like must I even point out that... that sleeping with someone against their will has always been and will always be rape? Anyway, her actions fit the ancient definition of rape to a t anyhow, so it's weird to try and weaponize "cultural differences" for the sake of having plausible deniability in Calypso's favour. Rape is also used to mean kidnapping, which is why we have pieces titled the Rape of Ganymede, the Rape of Persephone, etc..

Even if Jorge were to come out and say that, somehow, nothing sexual took place on Calypso's island in seven years, that despite her explicitly telling Odysseus that his "no" means nothing to her as a goddess she somehow never went so far as to sexually assault him... it doesn't make her abuse any less bad that she spared him that one trauma! Like holy shit dude.

Imagine if there was an adaptation that featured Zeus' rape of Io, and the audience responded to every literally dehumanizing action Zeus took against Io by saying "ooohh but he's lonely. i feel bad for him the most he's just a widdle lonely baby man. his wife is so meaaan."

[richeeduvie]

Birds of a Feather - PART ONE?

Darkish!Aaron Hotchner x Reader Sorry Lalo and Roman girlies I was on an Criminal Minds binge and I had to...and I also want to write more idkidk

It's moments he's remembering, from when you joined the team to when Aaron realized there was feelings in him for you. It all comes down to use for the justification of things he's done. He will do.

The person he's become for you. For you. That three letter word is easier on the tongue than the word because. It's less of an excuse that way.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

WARNING: Mentions of death, violence, things of a graphic nature. Criminal minds stuff. Jealous, possessive Hotchner. Entitled behavior. Toxic behavior and relationships. OC!Hotch sorta cause I don't think he'd turn into this crazy of a person, but reader's just that hot lol. More tags to come maybe cause Hotch is only going to get worse.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Aaron never thought that the person that would change him would be the woman who smiled too much. He never thought this change would come harshly - all for you, the one who joined the BAU's team 6 months ago.

The one who currently has the whole team looking for their retainer case, including him.

He's almost silent when his head hits the bottom of the jet table. But Aaron hears your giggle and he's sure he hears Rossi's smile.

"I don't think it's right for you to have the leader of this team on the floor to help you and then for you to laugh at him."

"Oh, lighten up on the kid, Hotch."

Aaron stays under the table, Rossi's not able to catch the stern, even sterner way he looks there at the older man's words.

"And I'm not understanding why you - on how we have let Rossi off the hook when it comes to finding your retainer case."

Aaron's voice stays leveled talking to you, never rising in tone or going low. It's him as he always is, but under the table with you. It's not different.

It's not different. The way the blood in his cheeks come warm, it's not different. And it has to be that way for a multitude of reasons.

"We've silently agreed it's because he's old. Or, that's what I assume. And I assume I'm right."

It's Spencer coming out from the bathroom, his voice dragging out the word 'old' factually, casual. Not unkind, just the way Spencer is - and it makes the team smile and scoff. Or both. Unless you're the team's leader, then Spencer's words only bring a simple, slight curve to the corners of his mouth.

And what was barely there in humor drops at the sight of you smiling at Spencer. Spencer's words. Not at Spencer. It's all innocent.

What it is shouldn't matter anyway.

It drops, Aaron ignores the uneven, heavy feeling around his chest to the point he doesn't know why it's there when he can't anymore.

You smile too much.

"I'm old, and when you're old, you'll take the word as an insult when it is, and you'll use your age as an advantage when it benefits you. I think if my bad knees were going to ever be beneficial, it'd be now."

"I'll take your word for it, Dave."

"I think it's a great show of a leader to do this for one of their members of the team. To put in the work to find something very valuable to me."

"...It's a retainer case."

You smile at Aaron. He doesn't blink, but his eyes are never wide. There's nothing to smile about.

"And it wasn't in the bathroom."

"I don't think it's anywhere on this plane, my love."

Derek sits back in his seat, almost slumped when he does. "I know this seems dorkish, I think Reid being my plane seat partner recently has been affecting me, but I'm in the mood for a board game. Sorry, Reid."

You can see Reid turn to Derek Morgan to J.J across from them, then back to Reid.

"What's so dorkish about board games?"

"Come on, man. When you hear the word board games, do you think of the word cool, do you imagine a cool person who constantly plays board games?"

"I think of them as a way to cheaply and effectively spend time with loved ones and friends while igniting competition and entertainment. My favorite is Clue if we're going for a more simple conversation, but there are many, especially more modern ones that require more strategy, have deeper narratives, or are particularly just beautiful in design. I'd have to see a list."

Derek smiles with teeth at J.J. She leans her head back and smiles without.

"I feel like the point I was trying to make was proven there."

"What point?"

Your smile never lets up. It doesn't make Hotch smile, but it makes him unable to turn away.

With you, he's beginning to have moments where he doesn't understand why he does the things that he does. It goes against everything he's ever learned. But, he's not about to profile himself to see if he can fix that. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe he'll be able to look away, and you'll stop being someone whose smile and eyes and tilt of the head makes him warm and nearly angry. You don't deserve that anger even if you don't know it's there.

"I think going up against Spencer in a boardgame is a losing game. But I kinda want to, now."

"...Let's get up."

You listen to him, taking his hand when he helps you rise on your feet.

"I think I'll take to the corner, do a cognitive interview on myself to see if I can remember where I put the fuc...damn thing."

"I've told you to watch your language."

You have a problem with swearing. You have the skill of making it sound bright, charming. It's unprofessional. Hotch doesn't know or care to see the way his group softens their banter to look at you and him.

"I just did, I feel proud of myself. But sorry."

He doesn't say anything, but he watches your throat bob.

"And it may be a retainer case with my retainer, but not just just, Mr. Hotchner. Mr. Hotchner, Sir. Mr-"

"Don't hurt yourself, kid."

Your smile turns to Rossi, Hotch tilts his head - moves his body into your line of sight a bit more.

You're talking to him right now, it's unprofessional to suddenly shift the conversation, especially when it's one you were having with your boss. An explanation, but you don't have to smile at him the way you do. Aaron will take what he can get.

"But it'll probably be less than a week and a half before my teeth start to shift. That's thousands of dollars down the drain, all those wire tightening appointments poor seven year old me had to go through will have been in vain."

"She's right. No matter how rigorous the medical process is to literally break the gums so your teeth can shift into a more aesthetically pleasing position, it's almost as if your mouth has memory to shift them back-"

"No need for the ortho lesson, Spence." Emily takes a sip of her coffee, it clearing down her throat. "I can say with experience and visual evidence that if you don't wear those little plastic molds of your teeth for the rest of your life, they'll punish you by moving back."

The black-haired agent bares her bottom teeth and its slight crookedness. J.J leans in, Spencer tilts his head.

"It looks nice, still."

"Did you start to wear them after you noticed them shifting?"

Emily takes another sip. "Hell no."

You and Hotch turn away from that conversation as you sit in your corner. Settling. He watches you settle.

"Or I could just get braces again. I don't know how many people would take a twenty-six year old with braces seriously in this field but...we'll see."

The silence settles with you for a bit, no one expects Hotch to say anything. Hotch doesn't expect himself to say anything.

"I've been thinking about getting Jack braces."

They certainly don't expect it's something so personal. Personal for him, suddenly personal. And they - Reid, Morgan, J.J, Prentiss, Rossi, they've seen how the stern, small-eyed stare of Aaron Hotchner gets even more...silently harsh at the sight of you. Garcia would agree if she was here. So for that personal comment to be brought upon you, the charming, all-too-bright newbie? They can't help but stare.

But Rossi, Dave - he's a step ahead, he could question a thing or two about what it could mean.

You look at Aaron. He doesn't look away. He can't. He wants to.

He wants to look away. He doesn't know if he does.

"Oh. Well, tell the little man it's worth it in the end...and that the ortho-guy is lying, you can eat as many chips and nuts as you want."

Aaron doesn't nod, but his eyes are enough. "I'll be sure to tell him."

He turns to go back to seat before he can catch another smile, not yours, anyway.

"What?"

Rossi takes to looking out the window, Aaron looks at...files, he'll focus on the lines and catch-up work. There's nothing to turn away from when you're behind him.

"I think she did really well on this case."

"You'd be right." There's a pause. "Is there anything else?"

"I think that'd be you to decide."

His eyes flicker up to the older man. It's that type of comment, that insinuation that would get anyone else reprimanded, whether or not they're in front of the rest of the team. But David Rossi is David Rossi, there's a reason why he's so bold now, fixing that reason is not anywhere near Hotch's list of priorities. He's too tired now, at least.

And yet, he's always the last to fall asleep on the plane ride home. He turns behind him just to check. In your time here, they've learned you're second to last.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Out of the line-up to pick someone new, readily skilled and able to fit in with the BAU, Aaron knew it would be you. From a completely platonic and professional perspective, you were it. You had to be, it's something he can admit. Your name didn't reach him by a resume or interview, but the moment he met you, Aaron knew you would be an asset to the team.

And maybe, from a more personalized perspective, he thought Reid would do well with someone younger with them for the work.

But to be twenty-six, that's three years between now and your graduation with a public college in New York - and in those three years, you did quite a lot. Impressive work for someone so young. Nothing of titles or accreditation, but when his team is called out to find the killer of three women and your profile is at the center of it, it calls into question as to whether or not Aaron should make use of your talents, to let that go unappreciated would've been a mistake. He remembers how the team agreed.

Girl Sherlock. Silly. Silly girl. He doesn't care when anyone is named, killer or hero - but you deserve a better one.

It was a killer with no name in Virginia, so they didn't have to go far for the investigation, but you did. You came in the day they did, papers and files in your hand. A coat too big for you to wear. You look like you couldn't handle the cold, even though he wouldn't agree that it was cold at all that day.

"H-hi. Hello. I never thought I would have the chance to bother the FBI, but I...fuck."

He remembers Morgan's brow rising, his was already raised.

"Sorry, I didn't think this would be nerve-wracki...."

You trailed off when your eyes caught Aaron. A nervous, young woman who obviously wasn't from Virginia. Someone who possibly has a problem with authority, you wouldn't have stuttered and stumbled as much as you did around him if that was the case.

Though, you've built familiarity between the both of you. He's allowed you to. So, if he looks back on it, not someone who has fear of authority, you wouldn't be so open to asking him to get on the floor of a jet if that was the case. You were just nervous the first time.

"I have reason to believe that whoever took the lives of these women in the past week is the Northwind Killer. And the Wyoming Skinner. And the Akron Phantom."

You, this nervous, young woman with scrambles of writings, news clippings. At first, you appeared like an obsessive fan of true crime, someone they would turn away with pity and second-hand embarrassment. But then, the way you spoke, the way you profiled. It was professional, investigative. You knew what you were doing and you've been doing it for a while.

It didn't help that you were beautiful. But he doesn't remember thinking that the first time he met you. Aaron thinks he's only realized it over time, or...now it's personalized - the way you look on his chest, it's no longer just a fact of your face.

It didn't help that the coat looked too big on you.

"You're Girl Sherlock."

Aaron saw the way you cringed at Reid's reveal.

"I never not feel like I'm twelve years old when someone calls me that. I've just turned twenty-six. But yeah, that's me." 

Prentiss’s head leaned up, then she nodded with her mouth parted. 

“Well, nice to meet you, Girl Sherlock. But considering that makes me feel like I’m twelve, I assume you want to be called your actual name? I’m Emily Prentiss. This is Spencer Reid, don’t be surprised he somehow knows you.” 

You smiled before you gave your name. 

He doesn’t know what to think of how much he likes your name, he would’ve named Jack that if he was born a girl. 

But, maybe Aaron never thought that, maybe he’s making himself into a fool. Aaron wouldn’t know why he’d do that when he doesn’t want anything to do with you outside of a professional matter. Where he can care for you professionally, maybe even to the point where you become close to him on the team, as he is with everyone else. 

Not someone to resent when he dreams about you instead of Haley at night. You wouldn’t deserve that, but Aaron Hotchner would hope he’s done some good enough in his life where you could leave him alone in his own head, where there would be a part of him that doesn’t allow this to turn into anything. 

But he should know by now, what he’s seen in his line of work - the dangers of what happens when you keep yourself convinced. But this wouldn’t be dangerous, it’d be right. This isn’t an unsub convincing himself that thoughts, fantasies of murder and wrongdoing are justified or something he’s entitled to, this is him convincing himself and rightly so that there’s nothing different about you. There is no bodily or mental reaction when it comes to you. Not then, not now. 

Aaron tilted his head at the smile growing brighter. The smile was warranted then. He couldn’t profile just how much you think it’s needed to smile and make others smile then. Aaron was too busy with the fact three women were dead and you were there to turn the case upside down. 

That and your four-pointed star earrings. Gold, old. Your neck held no jewelry. 

“How do you know her?”

“She’s a private investigator. She’s made a name for herself internet wise, although her work in criminal investigation is just…I think this is one of those moments where I am self-aware enough to stop myself from making a socially-inept mistake. It would be an odd experience for you if a stranger began to delineate your life story and career progression, wouldn’t it?” 

“On the nose, Spencer. But thanks for the introduction.” 

There was silence between you all until Rossi chimed in, because of course he would. “Well, Girl Sherlock?” 

There was no trailing off at the sight of Rossi, no. It was eyes widened. Hotch shared a look with Morgan, then Prentiss. 

“You’re David Rossi.” 

“You know me?” 

“It’s a fan club.” 

It’s something he almost whispered, nothing sarcastic or demeaning in voice, but it was a quip at the fact this was happening during a case. A bit humorous, because Aaron can admit it was, but mostly and barely frustrated. You were interesting, he wouldn’t blame the team for their attention shifting onto you. 

“And you’re Aaron Hotchner.” 

He blinked at that, he rolls his shoulders leaning forward remembering the way you said his name. 

“I’ve read a few articles about you.” 

Your mouth parted and Aaron knew what would’ve come out. 

I’m sorry about your wife. 

It wasn’t any question of what articles you read and it wasn’t any question that the team knew what they were too. The most recent ones would be the obvious answer. Haley, George Foyet. SSA Widower Aaron Hotchner, a man who was already closed off trying to break the walls down, for the sake of his team. His friendships - his son. 

“Yeah, hi. Again,” And again, you said your name. “I’m twenty-six. I live and work out of San Diego usually. I used to work at a private investigation agency, it was mostly figuring out if someone’s husband or wife was fuc…fooling around on them and I wanted more so I marketed myself…more. It got me more work, robberies with leads that went cold, missing persons - which were usually twenty-somethings running away from their families. But one day, almost three years ago, the mother of a boy who went missing seven years ago paid me money I did not deserve to help her. I tried my best.” 

“You found a boy who was missing for nearly a decade in a week, I would say your best is more than subpar.” 

The team looked from Reid to you. Aaron couldn’t believe it. 

He didn’t want to be cruel, to say it was luck - and he didn’t, which was good. He was proven wrong nearly after. 

“Did she choose you for a specific reason?” 

J.J crossed her arms. You shook your head. “She was a mother looking for anyone to help her when everyone else turned her away. I was there. After that, I got more cases. More serious cases. I almost went on Alprazolam which is so…not like me, I think? Sorry, but yeah. Murder cases, most of them older and unsolved ones.” 

“And most you solved.” 

You looked to the floor. “It was usually just things the police overlooked, missteps I could go back over. I don’t want to give myself credit where it’s not due but…yeah, I did nicely for a bit and that got around - got around enough to get some news articles thrown on me and the name Girl Sherlock.” 

“It was the New Yorker who honored her with that one. I would agree, there’s a better name somewhere.” 

“The New Yorker?” 

Emily’s brows curved. 

“It’s recent, for the most part. I was building rapport and promotion and it was alright until people were bringing me recent cases. These were family members and loved ones of victims or missing persons who were not waiting for the police to do their jobs, cases rejected by the FBI…sorry.” 

“I don’t think there’s any offense taken.” 

Morgan took a seat, crossed his arms too. You smiled at him, at Reid, Prentiss - J.J, you went down the line. 

All for your mouth and eyes to soften at him when you reach him. 

“There were these murders in Montana, which I’m sure Boy Wiki could tell you about.” 

Morgan nearly snorted, as well as Rossi. Reid blinked, head pulled back. There was that natural banter you had with them already, good-natured raillery that he accepts now. Aaron accepts it. He doesn’t resent the way you laugh with them. He doesn’t, because that'd make you different. 

That would mean he’s becoming worse of a person because of it. 

Maybe it’d be easier to accept what’s happening to him if what was happening to him at the sight and sound of you were things that were more conventional. Nothing like what he feels when he takes listening in on Reid or Morgan when he swears he can hear you laughing all the way outside of his office. Nothing like him wanting you to stay behind on every other case because it means you’d have to do your job like the rest of them, putting yourself in danger. 

Nothing like him thinking the person he hired only six months ago is incapable of doing this job, because then it means you’re helpless. You’re safe, as small as you are in a winter coat worn in the fall. 

It’s all happening too fast, and it needs to stop quickly. 

“Two pairs of parents from the same killer, that wasn’t my conclusion. Police knew it had to be the same man. I was investigating and another murder came, then another. They named him the Northwind Killer. This was a year ago. I was on it and then they stopped. Out of nowhere, I was trying to stay on it. Most of the murders I solved weren’t serial. I was lucky to get hired by someone whose daughter was the victim of the Wyoming Skinner.” You turned, Hotch watched the grip on your bag. “I shouldn’t say lucky, but it was in the sense that I knew this man was the same guy who committed the Northwind killings.” 

“Each victim had their back skinned. Not post-mortem.” 

“He didn’t do that in Montana, but I knew it was him.” 

“How so?” 

“I came in on the third victim each time, just like now. But I think it’s five. It’s always five victims in the end before he moves off to another state. Almost always, I may have not been FBI or of no legal authority but my presence in Wyoming brought enough attention that I think he was scared. Also…the police were doing their job well enough. He stopped at the fourth and didn’t kill for two months. On the dot, same in Montana. He started up again in Akron, Ohio. All of these are brunette women who end up lying face down, he kills five and moves on to a Northern state within two months. I know the signature is different every time, but I think that’s the point with him. Each state, he gets to try something new. Wyoming was skinning, Akron was decapitation. I just don’t know what it means.” 

You put your bag down. 

“Nobody called me for the Akron Phantom, I forced my way in. Same with here, but I think there are things with what I found in the other states that could help you here, maybe before they give him another stupid-ass name too.” 

“It’s not money you’re looking for? Cause we don’t have it.” 

It was the Police Chief you shook your head at. “No, Sir. Honestly? I’m too deep into this now. I know I have no legal jurisdiction or right to this case, I didn’t with Akron. I barely have time when people pay me, but I know I can help. I know this will help the families who’ve put their trust in me.” 

Aaron knew to say yes. There was nothing but things to benefit from if he said yes. You were legitimate according to the words of Reid. You sounded genuine. There was no reason to turn you away. 

“You’ll give a run-down on what you have for each killer?” 

“Yes, Sir. Mr. Hotchner. I can get everything laid out. It’ll take a second, I think I lost my hair clip on my way in. I don’t know how that happened.”

Aaron’s decided not to realize he wouldn’t have turned you away if there was every reason to.

[beta-therapy]

Why can't betas just "act more alpha?"

We have all seen what it’s like when a woman interacts with a man who she wants. The man brings forth dominance and confidence, which pairs with the woman’s submissiveness and desire like yin and yang. You can easily tell that the two are destined to have sex (which can be thought of as the physical manifestation of these emotions).

A lot of men might witness that and think “Wow, I want a woman to look at me the same way she was looking at him,” then decide to go out and approach a woman in exactly the same way. He would try to carry that same bold, dominant energy he saw earlier.

But instead of responding with submission and desire, the opposite happens. The woman steps back and delivers harsh criticism, like “I don’t give out my number to strangers, so stop acting like you’re entitled to it.”

The attempt at being charming, confident, and forward (traits that make a woman go head over heels for a man) ended up backfiring when a beta tried them, and it made the woman repulsed. Why? Because it’s not possible to “learn” confidence.

Imagine if all the things that women find irresistible about the men they sleep with could simply be learned and implemented by anyone. Imagine if there was a blueprint that anyone could follow on how to seduce women, and the only thing separating alphas and betas is that the alphas followed the blueprint.

Then we would all just follow the blueprint and have a ton of sex! There would no longer be this disparity where sex is abundant for some men and extremely scarce for the rest.

But that disparity—caused by the tendency of females to all flock to a minority of males for sexual reproduction—has been a fundamental characteristic of our species for millions of years. There’s no blueprint that allows one to cheat human nature. A beta cannot put himself into the category of men that women desire by simply mimicking alpha behavior.

You can try to, but you’ll see that any woman will immediately know what you’re doing. Your body language will be slightly off. The expression on your face will be slightly off. The words you’re saying will seem canned and rehearsed. A woman will notice your fake charisma right away, and she will not be one bit attracted to it. Instead of fantasizing about you, she will be figuring out how to end the conversation.

Some men have the ability to bring out the dangerous, adventurous, desirous, and hedonistic spirit in women, thus creating that yin and yang polarity mentioned in the beginning. Most men don’t have that power, and actually have a hard time getting women to have sex with him, if he can at all.

Some naïve advice might be “bro, you just need to flirt more and touch her physically to build sexual tension.” Yeah, good luck with that, especially with a woman who’s just not having it at all. That’s a good way to get her to smack you in face and call the police on you.

Indeed, if you try to tamper with the fabric of Nature, it always will snap back and hit you in the face sooner or later.

Now we see that the question posed in the beginning is answered by a basic law of human nature:

It is not possible for any man to simply “learn” the things that make women sexually aroused, for if these traits could be faked, women would not find them attractive because they would no longer say anything positive about a man’s suitability for genetic propagation.

And to clarify, women don’t consciously think about any of this. But their interest in sexual partners is an unconscious process, and the natural law just put forth is a very strong, useful explanation of this unconscious process in the female mind.

The correctness of the law is obvious. Think about every one of the things women go for: confidence, charisma, money, status, sexual history, social dominance, blah blah blah... None of them can be easily faked, and in particular, faking them all at once is damn near impossible. Each of these things say something deep and substantial about you as a man. They each are like games with winners and losers, and the key point is that a loser can’t fake being a winner. That’s exactly why women find these things so attractive.

[queerweewoo]

“Shit.” 

Eddie mutters the curse under his breath when he can't seem to release the clasp on his St. Christopher chain.

He'd plopped himself down next to Buck after arriving home from dropping off his fourteen-year-old budding socialite at a friend's house, having already kicked off his boots and hooking an arm around Buck's still crossed-at-the-ankle legs, getting comfy with them resting over his lap—well, his lap and the arm of the sofa, because Buck has the longest pair of pins in the whole frickin world.

“Nope, I'm afraid shit can't possibly be the answer to seven down, Eddie, because even though it starts with an ‘S’, and the third letter is definitely an ‘I’, twelve across has got to be 'Skating', which would make the second letter a ‘K’,” Buck says with mock-seriousness as Eddie is still attempting to take off his chain. “And anyways, I don't really think the answer to the clue ‘Dermis’ could legitimately be shit, not by any stretch of the imagination; ‘Dermis’ sounds too… I dunno. Scientific? Medical?”

Eddie snorts his amusement at Buck, and Buck grins back at him with that particular twinkle in his eye that Eddie has come to think of as belonging to him.

He really tries his best not to be possessive over his best friend, knows he has no right to anything like that, but Eddie can't help being in love with Buck, no matter how much he wishes he wasn't.

Eddie's been fighting his desires his entire life, regardless of the fact he knows there isn't a damn thing wrong with being gay. But growing up in Texas, with a family as traditional as his own? It means Eddie hasn't ever felt entitled to getting the things he wants in life.

Buck must notice Eddie struggling, then, because he immediately drops his pen and the crossword puzzle book Eddie picked up for him yesterday at the newspaper stand near the firehouse, and is now swinging his legs off the sofa so he can scooch further up to Eddie, until he's almost on top of Eddie, and is saying, “Here, let me get that for you, Eds.”

Eddie freezes.

He knows he should shoo Buck away like he's supposed to, do the right thing, but ever since Buck started dating Tommy—and ever since Buck broke up with Tommy—Eddie's been pretty bad at being well-behaved around Buck.

Buck doesn't exactly make things easy, though. Never has, truth be told. He's always been a really tactile kind of guy, and right now his tactile nature is trying to murder Eddie, dead, dead, dead.

“Lemme just…” Buck's tongue is poking out of his mouth and resting against his bottom lip in concentration—and Eddie knows he should look away but can't—and then he's leaning right into Eddie's space, like he goddamn belongs there and, oh god, Eddie can't take this. He can't. He can't fucking breathe let alone act like this isn't bothering him, like it isn't turning him on like he's a horny teenager again, like this isn't everything he wants and has dreamed of. “Eds, just… lean forward a little would you, so I can—a little bit more, man, c'mon, don't be shy, I just need to…”

Buck really is on top of Eddie now, big arms wrapped around Eddie's head, musky cologne in Eddie's nostrils and warm breath in the shell of Eddie's super-sensitive ear and fuck, he's practically straddling Eddie now, right thigh pushed up against Eddie's junk, oh hell, and Eddie is panting softly and only about two seconds away from moaning his best friend's name like the pathetic hot mess that he is, Jesus fucking Christ.

“Got it,” Buck mutters, and just as he goes to lean back and pull away from Eddie, Eddie hears his internal monologue say: Yeah, I've got it real bad. 

Then something just—snaps inside of his brain before it's shutting down completely and his heart is in his throat as he finds himself whispering, “Screw it,” while he grabs onto both of Bucks biceps with purpose because he's terrified that if he doesn't, they might leave him forever.

“Wait,” he says. Pleads. 

Buck's right thigh is snug against Eddie's left one, the other still in Eddie's lap, his gorgeous face right there next to Eddie's, so close Eddie can almost feel the prickle of Buck's stubble.

“Eds?” Buck whispers, and his breath is mingling with Eddie's and Eddie hasn't prayed for a long, long time, but he's praying now; praying that he's not about to fuck up the best thing, bar Christopher, that has ever happened to him; praying for redemption; praying that Buck might want Eddie even just a fraction of the amount Eddie wants Buck.

His voice breaks when he says the only thing he can. “Don't go.”

Eddie wants this so, so badly, just this one thing, that's all he's asking for, and he's willing to beg for it if he has to—swears he'll never ask for anything again as long as he fucking lives.

“I'm not, Eds, I'm…” Buck trails off, frowning a little. He swallows audibly and licks at those sinful lips that are right fucking there and then says, “What, um—w-what exactly do you mean by 'don't go', Eddie?”

Eddie's heart is thumping so hard against his ribcage it feels as if it's going to burst right out of his chest, and Buck has to be able to feel it too because his solid chest is pressed up firmly against Eddie's, and Eddie can't believe he's doing this and seriously might just pass the fuck out any minute now—

“I don't…” Eddie shakes his head.

Fuck.

Is he really doing this?

“You don't know? Or you don't want me to go—like, as in go home?” Buck's asking. Eddie can't breathe. “Or do you mean, like, go, uh, g-go away from—from right here?” Buck swallows again and Eddie has never wanted anything more than to lick a long stripe up that prominent Adam's Apple of Buck's. “Do you mean don't go from this, Eds? From… from you.” And that last part doesn't sound like a question, it sounds like Buck gets it, and like he isn't horrified by the idea or amused by it or as if he's pitying or mocking Eddie.

Unbelievably, it actually sounds a little like Buck might just want Eddie, too.

Eddie screws his eyes shut, and all he can manage to say is, “Yeah, Buck. The last one.”

Buck is then slowly, gently, sliding his cheek up and down Eddie's, and Eddie finally knows exactly how it feels to have that stubble dragging against his own and there is no fucking way on Earth he could hold in the almost sob-like breath that leaves his lips as Buck's line themself up with Eddie's trembling mouth.

He's gripping Buck's arms so tightly he's scared he might leave bruises there but can feel Buck smiling as he says, “Can I, Eddie? Please?”

Is this really happening?

“Fuck yes,” Eddie urges, and then Buck is kissing him; slowly; gently, and with so much of something that feels like it could be love that Eddie wants to cry.

Then Buck's pulling away, yet not really away because it's only barely enough to let Eddie swallow the boulder-sized lump in his throat and try to catch his breath—only he doesn't quite manage to catch the tear that escapes the corner of his left eye. Somehow, though, that's okay, because Buck kisses that, too—and Eddie finds himself letting it all go, then, and smiling back at the man he's been in love with for almost six years as he cries, because he can finally feel all the colours of the rainbow on his face.

“Eddie, you have no fucking idea how long I've wanted to do that,” Buck chuckles, and Eddie leans in and tilts his own head back slightly and Buck's down a little to press lips against Buck's birthmark, smiling like a fool through his tears.

Buck puts his arms fully around Eddie's shoulders and hugs him, tight.

Eddie just breathes him in until he feels settled enough to look at Buck without welling up again.

“Skin,” Buck says then, bringing his hands to Eddie's face and holding it, brushing thumb pads along Eddie's cheeks and drying his tears because he wants to, and can. Eddie squints in slight confusion at the word, before Buck's revealing the meaning behind it, telling him, “Seven down, Eds, it just came to me: It was the word skin. Yours is—man, it's even smoother than I'd imagined. So, so beautiful. You're beautiful.”

“God, I fucking love you, Buck,” Eddie blurts, because he can't help it. “I'm—I'm in love with you, Evan, and I just—I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you that, taken me too long to get my shit together and pull my head out of my—”

“Beautiful, insanely perfect ass,” Buck laughs, and then he's kissing Eddie again, like they've been doing this forever, and Eddie's kissing him back and laughing, too.

“Stay,” Eddie begs between kisses. “Stay forever, Buck.”

Buck looks at Eddie like a man in love and says, “I'm in love with you too, Eds. So, yeah, sure, I can do forever,” he promises.

And Buck always keeps his promises. 

.

happy pride to my beautiful firefam 🌈

(unedited pls forgive me!)

[arkemiya]

Diluc being a girl dad

Note: TYSM @stratusworld FOR MY FIRST REQUEST

My imagination was going rampant cause theres so many characters I felt I could’ve written about for this 🫨 I'm not too sure if this turned out great though, so please send in your thoughts 🙏

(divider from @cafekitsune)

~ Girldad! Diluc who definitely spoils his daughter, but makes sure to teach her manners. He doesn't want her to grow up to be entitled or ungrateful, but can't help himself when he sees her staring with stars in her eyes at a doll in a shop window

~ Girldad! Diluc who is the one to brush his little girl's hair every morning, after all he has experience with his own hair and knows how to get all those gnarly knots out without tugging at her poor scalp too much

~ Girldad! Diluc who (after a little bit of begging) joins his daughter's tea party. The seat is far too small and is uncomfortable, his knees almost at his chest, but when he glances back over to his daughter as she serves 'tea' to her teddy, her frilly pink princess dress on and a smile so bright it could rival the sun, he decides he can bear it

~ Girldad! Diluc who sits on the couch next to the fireplace with his daughter tucked into his side, her leaning over to peer at the pictures of the childrens book he is reading to her while sipping on the hot chocolate Adelinde had made her

~ Girldad! Diluc who carefully carries his daughter up the stairs to her room to tuck her into bed after he notices her focus on the book begin to waver and her eyes grow bleary. His steps are slow as to not jostle her too much and she buries her face into his neck

~ Girldad! Diluc who gently sets his daughter down onto her bed, making sure she has her favourite teddy cuddled tightly in her arms before pulling up the covers to rest just under her chin

~ Girldad! Diluc who brushes his daughters hair out of her face and plants a gentle kiss onto her forehead before standing again, noticing that she'd already fallen asleep

~ Girldad! Diluc who hesitates before leaving his daughter's bedroom, looking back over to her sleeping form. A smile grows on his face as he think about how lucky he is to have his little princess and he finally steps quietly out of her room, slowly closing the door behind him as to not make too much noise

AHHH FINISHED MY FIRST PROPER POST!

Again, I’m not sure if I loved how this turned out, so please send in your thoughts or any advice! 🙏 THANK YOU FOR READING THIS TOO 🫶