#i don’t know if she’s like. capable of Not Manipulating Him. ‘for his own good’ or otherwise.

[kayzero]

Feel free to answer this privately!! But Id feel bad if I didn't point this out so.

you shut your fuck

[strang3lov3]

Invisible Line

Summary- Boundary after boundary is crossed when your boss is left with no choice but to share his bed with you.

Roman Roy x F!Reader | 5.8k words

Tags- one bed trope mothafuckas!! mutual masturbation, unprotected piv, cream pie, oral (f receiving), come eating, dirty talk, soft dom!roman, power imbalance, needy and desperate reader, light degradation, manipulative Roman, Roman’s not the nicest but he does let you snuggle him

A/N- This is my first Roman Roy fic, so please be gentle 🫣 I know he’s got his issues with sex, so just play pretend with me. My usual Joel readers, I haven’t forgotten about you, he’s cumming soon 🫡🍆 but if you were feeling so inclined I’d appreciate it if you gave Roman a chance 🥺🩷

I had a fucking team of editors for this fic!! Thank you thank you thank you @noxturnalpascal, @papipascalispunk, @beefrobeefcal and @pinkypromisepascal for polishing this baby up

Fic notifs, Masterlist, Ko-Fi

You’ll never get used to the type of hotels you now stay in. All the lights glittering, floors shining, ceilings so high. You’d call it luxurious, but to your boss, Roman, this is considered modest. You’re always reminded that you and he come from two very different worlds.

As his assistant, you’re accompanying him on his “bullshit amusement park safety meeting in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere,” as Roman had so graciously put it. He’s got such a way with words. He’s exaggerating of course, always so hyperbolic. You’re not in the middle of nowhere, you’re in Nashville, Tennessee. It’s early June and the air is finally beginning to cool for the evening.

“We’re fully booked,” the receptionist says to you after first explaining that no, there’s no mix up of sorts, you had only booked one room and not two adjoining rooms like you’d thought. 

Just fifteen minutes earlier, you helped Roman with his bags and such up to his room. Roman carried the heaviest of his own bags to be a gentleman, call it his soft spot for you or whatever, but just to be a dick, still had you carry his briefcase that he was more than capable of carrying on his own. It is your job, after all. 

When you arrived with him to the spacious room, decorated with abstract wall art and odd sculptures, Roman wasted no time in flopping on the single king sized bed. After seeing no door to connect to an adjoining room, Roman sent you back to reception. “Well, better figure it out,” he said, waving you away, his eyes never once looking away from his phone screen. “I’m set here, so thanks. You can go fuck off. Have a nice evening and all that. Enjoy masturbating in your crispy white bed sheets, courtesy of Hyatt hospitality.” Always so vulgar. You’re not shocked by it anymore. 

“Nothing?” you ask the receptionist. “There’s no way. I just need a single queen, I don’t care what floor it’s on. Isn’t there something?”

“Bonnaroo,” the receptionist explains, once more typing on her keyboard to double check and see if there’s a room for you. “Yeah, I’m sorry, we don’t have any other rooms available. Bonnaroo weekend is always when we’re busiest. People book months in advance. I wish I could help you,” she frowns apologetically. 

You’re not upset. It’s your own fault. And you’d seen Bonnaroo posters around the lobby advertising the shuttle that transports people from the hotel to the festival. And you’d seen the headliners, too. Radiohead, Red Hot Chili Peppers, LCD Soundsystem. Friday and Saturday tickets are sold out. You’re not surprised it’s all booked.

“No, I know,” you reply. “It’s my fault.”

You sigh deeply, and the receptionist types into her computer, prints a piece of paper and hands it to you. “This is a list of hotels nearby. Call around, they might have something.” She wishes you good luck, and you pull out your phone to begin making the calls, only then realizing your battery is at 2%. Now you have nowhere to go but back to Roman’s room.

–

You knock on Roman’s door and wait. Nothing. You knock once more, nothing again. You’re about to knock for a third time when Roman finally opens, his shirt a few buttons undone and his belt loosened. “What do you want?”

“Can you let me in?” you ask, “I need to use your phone, please.”

Roman’s taken some getting used to. You never quite know where you stand with him, what exactly he thinks of you. Moment to moment, you never know which Roman you’re gonna get – the flirting Roman, the occasional sweet and tender Roman, or the cold, sarcastic, uncaring and taunting Roman.

 “Can you let me in?” Roman mocks, opening his door wider and guiding you into his room with his hand on your lower back. Taunting Roman. His touch makes your tummy flutter. Something about his unpredictability thrills you, excites you. You’re attracted to it, and you don’t know why. 

Your phone charges by a nearby outlet as you sit at the desk with the room phone as Roman paces around, rifling through his suitcase to find his pajamas. They’re simple looking clothes, pale blue bottoms and a plain white shirt, but you know the cost of the outfit is equivalent to someone’s rent. He changes in front of you, something he’s always done. You’re not exactly sure why he does that or what he’s trying to do, but you do your best to not steal any glimpses of him as you begin calling the numbers on the paper, though the task proves to be difficult. Flirting Roman?

The first hotel on your list is The Hermitage, which is a bust. The Joseph is also a bust. Conrad Nashville, same deal. You’re keeping your voice as low as possible, hoping Roman doesn’t overhear your conversation. The last thing you want to do is give him more ammo. You sigh as you cross out the names on the paper one by one with one of the hotel’s branded pens.

Roman’s on the bed, smirking, rolling his eyes. You can see it in your peripherals. “You fucked up, didn’t you? Forgot to book yourself a room?” 

“Shut up,” you mumble, now calling the fourth and final hotel on your list. 

“You shut up,” Roman says. “Told you to double check.”

You wave a hand in his direction to quiet him. After asking your now three times rehearsed ‘Do you have any rooms available?’ and being met with an apology and a no, you reply to the person on the other end of the call with a “Yup, Bonnaroo, understood. Thank you.” Sighing, you hang up the phone and bury your face in your palms. You know what your only option is here, and you’re scared to look at it, to look at Roman. You know that even if you don’t verbally ask, your eyes will say it all. 

  Roman slides off the bed and makes his way to you, then nudges your foot with his own. “Am I doing you a favor tonight?” 

“I uh…”

“Oh, of course I am. Good thing I’m feeling generous, huh?” Roman’s lips are curled into an almost-sweet smile when you finally look at him. “Bed is mine,” he enunciates. “You can take the floor, I don’t care. Or push those chairs together or some shit.” You look at the chairs he’s referring to and nod. Roman goes back to his bed, and you pull your own set of pajamas from your suitcase, then change in the bathroom. Once out of the bathroom, you push together the chairs that Roman was referring to.

“Oh god, I didn’t think you’d actually do that. No, no, I was just joking – we’ll share the fucking bed. Yeah?” Roman pats the other side of the bed. “I’m not cruel like that, Christ. Making me feel like some fuckin’ sort of - sort of sadist. Not gonna bite you.”

“Won’t you?” you tease. 

That was the wrong thing to say. Your blood goes cold as Roman glares at you, displeased with your teasing. Reminding you of your place, that even though Roman can joke, make however many unsavory comments as he’d like, you can’t always do the same. Cold Roman. But then Roman cracks a smile, flashing his pretty white teeth and winks, his eyes sparkling. The boss-employee dynamic between you and him is always inconsistent, things going from professional to unprofessional, from friendly to friendlier.

He pulls the covers down the bed, once more patting the space next to him, indicating his invitation for you to join him. You round the bed and slide under the covers, the sheets feeling cool against your bare feet and legs. “You’ve got ulterior motives, don’t you? You fucked up the booking on purpose.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed. “No, Roman.”

“You totally did,” Roman says as you adjust the pillows behind you, “You’re trying to entrap me. You’ve weaseled your way into my bed so you can sue me later for harassment or some shit but I’m telling you, it’s not gonna happen. Trust me when I say that it’s in your best interest to behave yourself.” Roman drags his finger down the center of the bed, bisecting it evenly. “Don’t cross this line. Not even your fuckin’…pinky finger. Got it?”

“Understood, Mr. Roy.”

“Attagirl,” he chirps. “Wait, ew. Jesus Christ, Roman, you call me Roman. Not that Mr. Roy shit. God, that’s gross.”

You’ll take any chance you can to get under his skin after all he does to you. Flipping over on your side, you face the window and watch the city lights dance before pulling out your phone and silently scrolling through Instagram. Roman does similar, though he doesn’t reciprocate the courtesy of doing so quietly. He watches videos at full volume, shaking the bed with his giggles. 

You shift to your other side, now facing Roman, who lays on his back. Your phone rests on the bed as you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks. You don’t often see him look relaxed like how he does now – how sexy he looks in those thin pajamas of his, his biceps toned and his bulge protruding from beneath the fabric of his pants. His usually sleek hair is slightly messy, and you wonder how those silky strands would feel between your fingers as you tug on them, with him holding you close in a tight embrace and his lips connected to yours, swallowing your moans. 

You tell yourself not to think about it, about him. Don’t think, don’t think, god, do not think about him. Don’t think about his thick bulge or his hands or their wrinkles, the bluish-green veins that climb up his knuckles. Don’t think about his waist, don’t think about his soft tummy, or the thin line of hair leading down his groin and beneath his pants. 

Roman’s looking at you, wearing that sly, cocky grin of his, pleased with the knowledge of what he does to you. He shuts his phone off and turns off the light on his nightstand, the faint glow coming from the open curtains now the only light.

He doesn’t take long to drift into a slumber, though you do, still thinking of the things you shouldn’t be. Images of Roman still dance in your mind for hours, you watch the time go by when you check your phone’s lock screen. You hear his voice in your head, that two word instruction from him playing over like a broken record. Behave yourself. And god, you can fucking smell him. He smells clean, like he always does, with notes of Caroline Herrera’s Bad Boy filling your nostrils – a cologne with a truly obnoxious bottle and an even more obnoxious name. Roman picked it out one time you were with him while he was shopping, just to piss you off. You’ve never hated the smell, though, and you love it even more on his skin. But he smells like sweat too, just a bit. So masculine and slightly musky, you can almost taste him. 

Your hand has moved on its own accord underneath your shirt and between your breasts. You’re not sure when it happened, but you become acutely aware of it when your knuckles brush against your nipple and you gasp. 

Roman stirs in his sleep, but he’s dead to the world. And you’re good at keeping yourself quiet – at least you think you are. 

You turn your head to look at Roman, pinching and twisting at your nipples. Alternating between soft and hard, gentle and rough touches. Roman’s got his arm draped over his head, his palm so close to you. You imagine it’s that hand, his hand, squeezing and groping the soft flesh of your breasts, pretending that tingling feeling when you drag your thumbs over your sensitive buds is his tongue, all hot and wet. You let yourself breathe, the quietest moans escaping your lips. 

And then you let your fingers dip lower, your fingertips skating down your body, feeling your sides and the soft curve of your tummy, your hips. Your hand goes lower and lower, your thighs parting as you find your core but not moving your legs wide enough to cross Roman’s invisible line. Tracing your lips first, your fingers travel closer to where you need to feel them the most. You’re wet, so fucking wet as you press your middle finger against your hole, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit.

You shift in the bed, spreading your legs wider and now circling your clit with your middle and ring fingers, dipping them into your entrance once more to gather your arousal and drag it up through your folds. Massaging yourself, you still pretend it’s Roman’s hand as you take in that sweet feeling that’s quickly beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each circle of your fingertips on your clit, fighting yourself to keep your hips as still as can be.

Romans voice startles you. “For a second I wondered if we’re near a fuckin’... earthquake, or uh– fault line or something, but you’re just rubbing one out next to your boss. Wow. Do you always shake the bed this much when you masturbate?” 

You gasp, “Roman.”

“Or just when you’re next to me?” You’re not really sure what the right move here is. You could pull your hand from under your pants, but Roman’s already caught you red handed. Leaving your hand between your thighs is not the right move either. “Funny,” he adds, “I thought we just had a conversation about behaving. Didn’t we?”

“I know, I–”

“I mean, you get brownie points for not crossing the line in the bed, I guess,” Roman lifts the covers of the bed, then reaches for your knee and gently pushes it back on your side of the bed. “But you are crossing all sorts of other lines. You must think you’re sneaky. I heard you moaning, you know,” he accuses. He mocks you then, all snark and derision as he lets out exaggerated and breathy moans you’re almost sure you weren’t making. Roman, oh, Roman! Yeah, right there, Roman, please…

 “Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?” he asks as he reaches for your jaw with one of his hands, turning you to look at him. He pinches, fingertips digging into the softness of your cheeks. No hiding now. “Is that what gets you off?” 

“No,” you stammer. 

“Liar.”

The air feels thick and Roman’s hazel eyes are dark, inky black, perhaps from the lack of light or maybe, you think, his own arousal? No, probably not. He looks genuinely pissed and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, his intense gaze making you squirm. But you can’t seem to look away, either. He allows a silence to hang heavily between you both as he stares at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite read. And that’s when you notice it – with the hand that’s not holding your jaw, he’s stroking his cock underneath his pants. You can see the bulge, the shifting of his hand. 

“You’re touching yourself too,” you point out.

“Yeah, now I am. I’m a man. You made blood rush to my penis with your fucking moans and your Roman this and Roman that,” he huffs. Pulling down his pants and letting his cock spring free, he continues, “So my dick is hard. It should be your problem to deal with, but I’m bailing you out yet again. Always cleaning your— fuck,” he stutters, “Your messes.”

You have no clue what’s happening here. Roman lets go of his cock for a moment and he reaches for your arm, guiding you to start moving your hand once again. “Get it out of your system,” he says. “Go on. You didn’t have an issue fucking yourself next to me five minutes ago, did you?”

Cautiously, as with Roman you know full well that this could be a trap, you begin to move your hand with his guidance. “Yeah, good girl,” he whispers in a hushed, almost imperceptible tone, one that you probably weren’t supposed to hear. “God, I can’t believe you,” he says more clearly this time. “You better make it quick. We’re getting this over with, and we’re not looking at each other. Call it your punishment or something, just fuckin’—  take care of yourself.”

Roman adjusts so he’s flat on his back and resumes stroking his cock. His eyes are screwed shut and you’re watching his chest rise and fall, fully breaking the rule he just set. But you can’t help yourself, he looks so gorgeous like this. His pubic hair is longer than you would have expected Roman to have, but gorgeous nonetheless. He’s not the longest but his head is wide and round, with thick veins climbing his shaft. 

“You’re watching, you fucking creep,” he says in a breathy tone, his words slightly broken. He’s not looking at you, only at the ceiling above. “Breaking the rules. You have a hard time with that, don’t you? Look, I can follow rules. Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

Roman rolls his eyes at that, then flips on his side to finally look at you. A flicker of what looks to be relief quickly washes over his features, but quickly disappears. He reaches for your shirt, hiking it up your torso and tugging – up, take it off. You do as he asks, taking off your top and exposing your breasts to the chill of the air in the hotel room. 

“I hope you know that I’m not gonna touch you,” Roman says. 

“I know,” you breathe. “I know you won’t, I just, I just…”

“Just what?” Roman asks, still stroking his cock. You take off the rest of your pajamas and adjust yourself slightly, then spread your legs wide, the invisible line be damned as your knees fall back toward your chest and you rub your swollen clit. God, how you need his fingers inside you. You’d fuck yourself on your own fingers, but it won’t satisfy you in the way you think Roman could. “Spit it out,” Roman demands. 

Fuck it. You’ll deal with whatever consequences later. In the boldest of moves, you reach for the hand that strokes his cock and bring it to your pussy, guiding Roman’s middle and ring fingers to your entrance and pushing them inside. 

Roman wears a twisted sort of smile as he curls his fingers inside you, now playing his own game with you. He taunted you with an accusation of ulterior motives, but it was all talk, like how most of Roman is. He suspected this before, but now he's certain: you have nothing but need for him. Amused by it, he’s now playing his game with you. As you moan for him he wonders, how much can he toy with you, drag this out? How much will you beg for him? Your hand is wrapped around his cock now by your own choice, he wonders how low will you sink, and how high will he feel by the end of whatever this is? 

You’re inching closer to him. Desperate. 

“Your hand is wrapped around my cock,” he whispers. “And you buried my fingers inside your cunt. Is something not clicking in that head of yours?”

“So good,” you breathe. You work his shaft, twisting your hand up and down. He’s thick, veiny, his head feels smooth in your palm. Roman’s touch is firm as removes your hand from his cock to hover it beneath your chin. “Spit,” he tells you. You’re so pliant, and do as you’re told, spitting into your own palm, Roman putting it back where he wants it. “Wow. I pull my cock out and you’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” 

All you do is nod. 

“God you’re soaked. Are you always this soaked for me? Just walking around all day, panties fuckin’ ruined?”

“Sh– shut up.”

Oh, you’ve still got some bite left. Roman wonders how quickly he can make that diminish. “Poor thing, did I hit a nerve? You wanna fuck me that badly? Are you really that desperate for your boss?” You say nothing, just inch even closer to Roman now. You hook a leg over his hip, moving your cunt towards what you need most from him, slowly guiding him in your hand ever closer to your entrance and hoping he’ll remove his fingers from you and replace them with his cock. And thank god, he does it. He pushes your hand away, gripping his member and notching the tip in your entrance. Fucking finally.

But he only collects your wetness on his tip, then spreads it down his shaft. He pushes his pelvis forward, rubbing his cock against your hooded clit and making you shiver. 

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he taunts, now dragging his cockhead down your dripping seam. 

“Roman,” you whine. 

“Roman,” he says, mimicking your whine, exaggerating how pathetic you sound. “Is that all you can say?”

“Fuck me,” you gasp. “Just fuck me, Roman.” 

“Yeah, I know. You know my name and how to nag me to fuck you. I get it. What you’re not getting is that I don’t care. It’s not gonna happen tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that… Just gonna fuckin’ play with you like this,” he hums, now pushing his cock up against your clit again, tapping you. “Yeah, you’re good. This is… this is good. I’ve been so bored recently, you know? Wonder what happens when I do this,” Roman stops tapping his head against your sensitive clit, now sliding himself left and right across your sex. He bites his bottom lip when you gasp and squirm.

“I wonder if I could make you come just doing this,” he muses, continuing to tease you. “I know I could. I could blow my load on your pussy right now and make you clean up a mess for once. Is that what you need? For me to show you what you’re meant for?”

Maybe, you think. Maybe not. You don’t know what you think. You need his cock. Roman pushes himself forward, fitting just his head into your hole again. And you think it’s coming, the fullness, the pressure, the ache and the stretch and the burn. He’s bent on his two prior rules, but compromise never comes. He doesn’t give in to you. Roman’s grinning, giggling to himself as he draws his hips backward, denying you. Watching how you struggle for him, how you whine and squirm and push your hips towards him. “Is it?” he asks. 

“Fuck, is what?”

“Is that what you need?”

“Yeah, I need you to fuck me. Roman, please. Need it – need you inside.” 

 Roman pushes out an exhale somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. That’s not what I asked at all. Is listening really that hard for you? What do they call that, tunnel vision but for hearing. Tunnel hearing? I don’t think that’s right.” 

“I’m sorry–”

“Google it for me.”

“Roman.”

“What the fuck do you think I hired you for? Google it. For me. Thanks.”

Roman lifts his dick again, rubbing it against your clit and then lining himself up again, all as you scramble for your phone and quickly open Safari. ‘Funnel visipn bur for hearin g’ is what you type, the combined sensations of Roman’s teasing and the too-bright screen making your task difficult. “Audi-auditory exclusion,” you manage to tell him. 

“Lemme see it,” Roman takes your phone from your hand, squinting at the screen. “Auditory exclusion is a form of temporary loss of hearing occurring under high stress,” he reads in his phony serious tone, still teasing you, bumping into your clit and then notching himself at your entrance, again and again and again. Giving you just a taste of what you know he could offer you instead. He’s opening Wikipedia now. “Auditory exclusion happens as a result of the physiological effects of the acute stress response, specifically an increased heart rate.”

“Fuck me, Roman, fuck me, please, I’m begging, please, please…”

“Begging’s nice, good. Very good. Very cute. But uh–” Roman points to your phone, “I’m busy reading here, so maybe quiet down. I really don’t want to hear it,” he laughs breathlessly, but nothing about this is funny to you. You’re in tears now. Tears of anger, frustration, shock. Roman lines up with your slick hole, just as he’s done repeatedly before. He notices your tears, “My god, you’re crying for it. So desperate, aren’t you?” he mocks your pout, wiping away your tears. You tell him you need him. “Need me? What a strong word. Yeah, I know that you need me. Message clear. God, you repeat yourself a lot. Fucking annoying.” 

Fuck this. Roman’s still on Wikipedia and down some rabbit-hole not even related to auditory exclusion. He’s stopped teasing you, his cock just resting, nestled at your entrance as he scrolls. And you take your chance. 

You reach for his shoulders and flip yourself so you’re above him, then sink down on his cock. Roman’s startled but he moans as he disappears into you and you sigh, finally feeling that stretch of his cock you’ve been craving since you don’t even know when – long before tonight. Roman watches where your body connects to his, seemingly shocked. He scoffs. “Oh, fuck you.”

Roman pushes your body off of his, he’s small but stronger than he looks. He flips you on your tummy and his touch is harsh but just what you need when he finally grabs your hips, placing his palm between your shoulder blades and forcing your chest down to the mattress. He was somewhat gentle when he was teasing you before, but all of that is gone now, as he lines up with your entrance and slams his hips into you, rocking you forward. He pulls out almost all the way before doing it again, harder. So many noises. You – gushing on his cock, moaning, crying out for him. Roman – his thighs slapping against yours, his grunts and his curses and breathy groans. The bed creaking with each of his thrusts. Roman fills you up better than you could imagine – fucking perfectly –hitting your walls, that sweet spot inside you. 

“So fucking wet for your boss. What’s that say about you, huh?”

Roman grips your hips tight – too tight. He’s denting his nails into your skin and it hurts, his thumbs are digging into your lower back. There’s no fluidity to his thrusts, no steady roll of his hips. Just Roman, parting your insides with the harsh rutting of his hips. His heavy balls swinging, bouncing against your clit, his soft tummy warm against your back. 

He sets a steady rhythm, a rhythm for his pleasure alone. Fucking you seemingly in two, exactly how you want it. Of course you want it this way. He can hear it in your muffled whimpers and cries, he wonders if the sheets are stained under your face, soaked with your tears. Roman holds your waist, forcing you up with your back against his chest. “Fuck,” you cry, and Roman wraps a hand over your mouth, the other is groping your breasts. Not that he doesn’t love the sounds you’re making for him, he just wants to give you another reminder of who’s in charge here – of how this is gonna go down, according to Roman. 

He tugs your earlobe between his teeth, his nose nudging your cheek. His mouth travels lower then, he bites at your neck where it meets your shoulders, the stubble on his cheeks scratching your skin. He’s sucking at your flesh hard enough to leave a mark – for what reason, he’s not entirely sure. To punish and to hurt you, humiliate you, maybe even mark you as his. It’s possessive and primal in essence, how the way you need him so fervently makes him feel powerful in a way he often does not. And you’re not helping your case at all, with your squirming and your whimpers only egging him on. You tried to take what you need from him, but he’ll drill into your head that you’ll only receive what he’s willing to give to you.

He wonders what comes after this. If you’ll turn on your side in bed, leaking with his come and hiding yourself from him, or if maybe you’ll cling to him instead. He knows that he’ll lay next to you after this and wonder what you’ll be like for the rest of this trip. Will you be shyer, about the same as usual, or maybe even bold? He’ll experiment with you, see how you react to a cold shoulder or a shower of attention. See what you’ll do when he squeezes your ass, or when sitting next to him in the car, the helicopter, or at dinner when his hand finds your thigh and inches closer to your sex. Will you lean into it? Will you squirm and push his hand away?

His hands travel along your sides and down your torso, he can tell you’re loving his touch. You’re shameless in your reaction to him, your pussy squeezing him, your wanton moans. Curious, Roman reaches for your clit just to see how you’ll respond. He teases you, tries to write his name with his fingertips into you. Lewd sounds of skin slapping skin, the obscenity of your pussy’s slick noises. He’s not going to last much longer, that is quite clear. 

He doesn’t care to try to make you finish first, as a gentleman should, although Roman nor anyone else would describe himself as such. You’re on his time. He knows how desperate you are to come, but he doesn’t care. He’ll get his first, something he doesn’t often get otherwise. And so his pace quickens, still biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck and shoulders. He bets that in all those late-night fantasies of yours about this moment, touching yourself in the dark, you didn't picture him being a biter. This much is evident with your pussy clenching on him and your short gasps showing your surprise. 

He savors that feeling in every inch of himself – the power he holds knowing you’re aching not only to come on his cock, but to feel his touch, to experience him. It’s still just a game to Roman. Maybe it’ll always be a game. He’s not sure yet. 

His cock twitches inside you, that warm and sticky feeling in his balls is beginning to crescendo. “I need to come,” you beg. “Roman, please make me come, I need-.”

“Shut up. I don’t care.”  Roman fucks you with frenzied thrusts, and he doesn’t pull out to stroke himself above you, doesn’t ask you if you’re on the pill or if you want him to come on your ass or your tits or in your mouth. Roman shamelessly lets himself go and fills you with his hot spend. His noises are like music as he comes inside you, melodic grunts and moans coming from deep within him. And you take it all, everything he gives you because that’s what you’re meant for. 

Roman takes heaving breaths above you, pulling out and his spend spills onto the comforter. He doesn’t give a shit. And as you collapse down onto your hands and knees you think that’s that, that he really doesn’t care. That all of this was probably about Roman savoring the feeling of having control over another person, and that dangling pleasure over her head is how he’ll get it. 

Roman climbs off the bed and you’re trembling. He flips you onto your back, pulls you forward by your legs so that your sex is centered with his face as he kneels at the edge of the bed. His mind has changed quickly – first he wanted to know what would happen if he didn’t make you come. He thought next about eating you out from behind, denying you connection as he tastes you, buries himself in your most intimate place. But you’ve done well for him, and it’s clear that you’ll take what he gives you at any cost. Roman watches you with hooded eyelids, offering you that connection as he brings his face to your center, licking a thick stripe up your cunt. Call it his soft spot. 

“Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.”

Roman dives back into you, and you hesitate before reaching for his scalp. Tentatively, you do it anyway, just to see if he’ll react. He might smack your hands away, maybe he’ll place them down on the bed. You’re sure he won’t hold them. 

He lets your hands linger. Your fingers tug on those sleek strands of hair as he eats you, his scruff chafing your thighs. His eyes alternate between fluttering shut and peering up at you as dips his tongue into your entrance, licking his spend from your folds. He brings a hand to your cunt, two of his fingers pushing into your heat as his tongue dances circles around your clit. He’ll never tell you how sweet you taste on his lips. 

“Yes, oh god, Roman.” He’s kissing your cunt, lapping at your folds, his tongue teasing all of that sensitive flesh. His fingers curl inside you at the same time he sucks your clit between his lips, making you writhe for him. “Right there, Roman.” 

You’re not sure if he’s indulging himself or you at this moment. He eats you like a man starved, he eats you like it's his artwork. Nipping at your folds, his fingers inside you never once faltering their movements. You grind against his mouth as his tongue flicks and swirls. After all that’s taken place tonight, it doesn’t take you long to come. You bite down on your moans as pleasure washes over you, and you come on Roman’s tongue, gushing into the palm of his hand. When he’s ensured that he’s milked you entirely, he pulls away and takes his place back on his side of the invisible line. 

Roman had wondered if - once in bed - would you cling to him or turn away, but he doesn’t allow you that choice. Instead, he takes your wrist between his fingers as he turns away, curling on his side, effectively wrapping your body to spoon around his. He keeps your arm secured firm under his, tucked around his torso. Tender Roman. You’re on edge, he’s been relatively quiet this whole time, and you’re expecting some snarky comment or a vulgar insult. “I swear to god, I will smother you with my fucking pillow if you snore,” is all he says. His threat, albeit baseless, comforts you. 

-

[kitsuren]

DEMO // PLAYLIST

Flirting with Death is a 18+ Otome-like action dark romance in the form of an interactive fiction. The game focus will be mostly into character and relationships development, exploring how you interact with the world and the reactions to your decisions.​

Take charge of Eris, a newly (and forcibly) inducted operative of a shadowy organization, as she enters a world way more twisted from what she is already used to. 

The game will be released chapter by chapter and it will be entirely free after completion!

You died. For all your life, you have been making bad decisions after bad decisions and this time your luck ran out. During your years working with the wrong side of the law you had seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. What you never expected was that your choices would take you into a maze of lies and backstabbing capable to bring countries to their knee. Something big is happening and you are not in the small leagues anymore. To bring down titans you will have to ally yourself with the shady HADES Project, a group with dubious objectives and even more dubious reasons. In a race against time you will have to do the unthinkable before it is too late. There is no right or wrong in this game and the stake is your second chance in life. The clock is ticking. Grab your power suit. Gather your allies. And remember: Trust no one.

Play as a female gender locked protagonist;

Customize your Eris: decide on your past, specialization, appearance, and attributes, bringing your character to life;

Romance one of the 3 initial ROs, each of them having their own unique route that explore the story trough different perspectives;

Make  decisions that impact the people around you for the good or the bad;

Use state of the art never-seen-before technology, including your very own power suit so you will never die (again!) during a mission;

Choose between 5 classes that will assist you during the various dangers that will follow you and your team as you try to solve the mystery;

Be a a righteous vigilante or a complete menace to society;

Kick a billionaire in the face (or not)!

This game is rated +18. Not only it will touch on heavy subjects, but it will also contain: 

Graphic depctions of violence; Strong language; Unhealthy coping mechanisms; Guns and gun violence; Manipulation tactics; Explicit sex (if chosen); Taboo relationship; Toxic relationship; Mature content; (This list will be updated if and when necessary!)

Yes, the protagonist is gender locked: This is my first time coding an IF and I didn't want to bit off more than I could chew. Not only that, I wanted to mix the otome/josei genre with the interactive format. Maybe it will work, maybe not.

This game is a ROMANCE first and foremost: You will not be able to opt out of it. I am aware that some people are not fond of this type of content and yes, you as a player will have the choice to have (or not!) sexual content/pda, but you will not be able to get out of locking into a romantic route.

Cold, cynical, and incredibly sardonic, Phobos is all objective, giving up on any and all distractions and not being afraid to do whatever it is necessary for the greater good. His no-nonsense attitude and his constant tries to intimidate anyone into submission​ turned him infamous in the organization. His morality is almost black and he doesn’t care about the sacrifices that he needs to do to obtain the desired result. Killing for him is second nature, but most of times he will let Deimos talk him down from his murderous rampage. At least until he decides that the more approachable way is not being efficient anymore.

Friendly, good natured, and helpful. Everyone who knows Deimos has the impression that the man is not fit for this kind of work. He is well regarded by anyone across HADES and normally tries to resolve everything without violence, doing a really good work as a “face” in his Kerberos Unit. But don’t be mistaken, even preferring to not harm innocents, Deimos is a perfect killing machine, honed by his past to be the perfect assassin and torturer. He has an approachable personality, but when working he only focus on the job that needs to be done. Can be quiet work focused and hyper fixate on the mission, which feeds his insomnia.

With zero chills to give and almost always having and anxiety attack due to Phobos and Deimos shenanigans, his boyish appearance masks very well his personality and he constantly runs with the power of coffee and spite. As a handler he is extremely methodical and professional, being proficient with first aid, tech, engineering, and plan making, even if his ADHD tries as hell to hinder his plans. Being a genius, he mostly always lose patience with stupidity and prefer to work by himself. Chaos is the youngest handler in HADES history and by far one of the most respected, at least by name, since he is the only one capable to make Phobos and Deimos to actually shut up with just a glare.​ Can be a tad dramatic and fatalist, but he rarely is wrong. His favorite phrase is “I ain’t paid enough to deal with this shit” (Yes, he is.).

[lolbital]

My hazbin hotel ship opinions!

• staticradio: my favorite, my obsession, my life. It is very obvious in the show that Vox is obsessed with Alastor. The most common opinion in the community is that it’s one-sided, but I like to think Alastor pulled away because he was afraid of his reciprocated feelings towards Vox.

•radiorose: This is my second favorite Alastor ship. They are super cute and they’re quite perfect for eachother. I just enjoy their friendship too much to actively ship them.

•radioapple: I only understand this ship because it seems like they have existing tension, but otherwise I don’t enjoy it. Alastor and Lucifer’s relationship was never expanded on beyond their immediate rivalry. Maybe if season 2 gives them more interactions or a backstory I will be able to get behind this ship a little more, but I really can’t see this as anything more than a boring rivals to lovers trope.

•staticmoth: It’s okay, but I don’t see them as much more than a sexual relationship. I don’t think Valentino is capable of genuine love.

•polyvees: I see Velvette as more of a younger sister to the other vees. To me the idea of her having two boomer older brothers is just funny. I don’t think this ship is necessarily bad it’s just not my thing.

•bombsnake: I think they’re cute. Unfortunately I don’t think Cherri really has returned feelings for Pentious. Based on their interactions she just seems interested in experimenting sexually with him because of his anatomy. I could be wrong though, so I’m very open to this ship!

•Charlastor: I see Alastor as a father figure or older brother to Charlie. Especially after the Hell’s greatest dad song, I just can’t ever see them in a romantic situation. I am not against the ship, but I personally don’t like it.

•Chaggie: I have nothing bad to say about them! Their relationship is healthy and I think they’re perfect for eachother. I particularly enjoy the fact that Vaggie was an ex-exterminator because it truly promotes Charlie’s idea of redemption. I am going to be extremely upset if Vaggie gets redeemed and gets seperated from her gf.

•radiodust: most people who ship this probably still have the pilot in mind. They don’t interact a whole lot in the show, and I see this as more of a crackship than anything.

•huskerdust: It looks like they’re going to be getting a slow burn relationship and I’m so happy about that. I like to think that Husk is refusing Angel’s advances because he knows he’s only doing it because of hypersexuality at first. I’m 99% sure that is what is canon too. I want to see their relationship grow.

•radiohusk: I am sorry but I can’t get behind this whatsoever. Husk absolutely hates Al, and Al owns him. There is no equality in this relationship, and it would get toxic very quickly.

•radiomaid: I love their dynamic but only as friends. I know Nifty is an adult, but she acts so childish and Alastor still owns her. I don’t like the power imbalance and maturity gap.

•alastor/lilith: if the theory that Lilith owns Alastor is true, then I am interested to see if we get a backstory about them, or what they might’ve been doing for 7 years. As of now I am neutral.

•guitarspear: these two menaces belong together. It seems like Lute really cares about Adam too which is an added bonus.

•Adamsapple: definitely a crackship. I don’t know what to say other than I find it amusing.

•valdust: I despise this ship. There is a very abusive power imbalance and it is proven that Anthony is nothing more than an object in Val’s eyes. There is no love here, just manipulation.

•royalhalo: cute, but even better if It’s poly with Vaggie. If emily becomes a fallen angel, Charlie could have two gfs and I stand behind that.

•lucilith: I hope they get back together. Lilith better have a good reason for leaving.

•Vaggie/Angeldust: most probably ship this because they were likely a longtime viv follower. I’m not against this ship necessarily, but I could never get behind it. Maybe I just adore chaggie and huskerdust too much.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Chains of Destiny - Eva (Ch.1)

Summary: X-men including Logan, are being sent to retrieve a young mutant woman from a experiment facility. However, not everything goes as planned.

Content Warning: mean Logan, like he's actually a jerk here. Hurt, pain, angst (hell a lot of it), mentions of torture, experiments, violence, mentiones of suicide/wanting to die,

Author's note: So I actually planned on this series for a while. Not gonna lie Deadpool and Wolverine gave me a bit of a push to finally publish this series. Keep in mind that this does not take place during Deadpool 3 timeline. This series will have lots of angst so brace yourselves and I really hope you will all love it the same way I love writing it ❤️

Word count: 8 326

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of technology from the giant monitor hanging on the wall. Around the long, metallic table sat the core members of the X-Men—Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Jean Grey, Hank McCoy, and Logan, who sat at the far end, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed as he stared at the screen.

Charles Xavier sat at the head of the table, his hands folded in front of him. The image on the screen showed a grainy surveillance feed from the inside of the lab they were about to raid. It was dark, but even through the low-quality footage, they could see her—Eva. Curled up in a glass cell, arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly ahead. Her small frame seemed fragile, but the readings from Cerebro painted a different picture entirely.

“She’s been in there for years,” Charles began, his voice calm and measured. “A captive, used as an experiment by a faction of scientists attempting to create new, enhanced mutants.”

Jean’s brow furrowed, her eyes full of concern. “They’ve been adding mutations to her, manipulating her DNA. That’s… unethical doesn’t even begin to describe it. How has she survived this long?”

“Barely,” Charles answered softly. “She’s had to endure unimaginable pain. Not just from the mutations, but from the emotional and psychological torment. One of her powers allows her to absorb the pain and injuries of others, healing them at her own expense. But it’s more than that. It’s not just physical. She absorbs their emotional damage too. She’s a living conduit for others’ suffering.”

Ororo closed her eyes for a moment, her voice thick with empathy. “No one should have to endure that. We have to help her.”

Scott nodded. “She’s a mutant, and she’s in danger. That makes it our responsibility to get her out of there.” 

Logan leaned forward in his chair, his face twisting into a scowl. “Hold on a second.” His voice was rough, laced with irritation. “You’ve read her file, Chuck. You know what she’s capable of. That kind of power? You really think it’s a good idea to bring her here? She’s a damn walking nuke. You touch her, and she’s in your head, messing with your emotions, maybe worse. That’s if she doesn’t blast you halfway across the room with her force repulsion or whatever the hell it is.”

Jean glanced at Logan, her brow creasing with concern. “She’s been through hell, Logan. She didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I get that,” Logan shot back, his voice sharp, “but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s dangerous. You saw what happened in the last raid when we tried to bring in that mutant with the volatile powers. He almost brought the whole damn building down.”

“Eva isn’t a threat by choice,” Charles interjected, his tone steady, though there was a quiet firmness to it. “She’s been conditioned, pushed to her limits. The trauma she’s endured has caused her to lose control. But she is not beyond saving.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, a growl rumbling low in his throat. “That’s the thing, though, ain’t it? Control. She’s got none. We storm that lab, and she could go off on us just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “and you know it. You’re askin’ us to walk into a situation where we don’t know if we’ll be able to handle her if she flips out.”

“Her powers make her volatile, yes,” Hank spoke up, his deep, thoughtful voice cutting through the tension. “But we’ve faced dangerous powers before. If we don’t act, she will continue to suffer. And from the looks of this lab, it’s only a matter of time before they push her to the breaking point. We have to try.”

“Try?” Logan scoffed. “What if trying gets us killed? Or worse—what if she turns into something none of us can handle?” 

Scott, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Logan. “We know the risks. But that doesn’t change our mission. We don’t abandon our own, especially not someone who’s been tortured like this.”

“Yeah, well, maybe this time we should think about it,” Logan muttered, his eyes narrowing. “She’s not one of us. Not yet. We don’t even know who she is.” 

“Logan.” Jean’s voice was soft but firm, a note of understanding in it. “You know better than anyone what it’s like to be taken and turned into something against your will.” 

Her words hung in the air like a weight, and for a moment, Logan’s scowl deepened. His hands clenched into fists, his claws threatening to extend. He hated being reminded of what had been done to him—of the experiments, the torture, the mind games that had turned him into a weapon. He’d spent years fighting to control the rage, to stop himself from becoming the monster they tried to make him. 

But this girl… she was different. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t hardened by battle, wasn’t tempered by a lifetime of violence. She was a raw nerve, and in Logan’s mind, that made her more dangerous than any enemy they’d faced.

“She’s not ready for this world,” Logan said, his voice lower now, but no less intense. “She’s not ready for what happens if she loses it. And we sure as hell ain’t ready for her.” 

Charles met Logan’s gaze evenly, unflinching. “I understand your hesitation, Logan. Truly. But this girl needs us. She’s been used and discarded, treated as nothing more than an experiment. If we don’t intervene, she’ll die in that lab. And if we leave her there, she may very well become the very thing you fear—a weapon. But if we bring her here, if we can reach her, she has a chance at something more. A chance to be more than what they’ve tried to make her.”

Logan grunted, looking away. He could feel the weight of the room’s eyes on him, but it didn’t change the knot of unease twisting in his gut. He didn’t trust this situation. Something about it felt wrong, and his instincts were screaming at him to walk away.

But the problem was, he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to turn his back, he couldn’t ignore the part of him that remembered what it was like to be the one trapped, the one without control.

Finally, after a long pause, Logan let out a rough sigh. “Fine. We go in, we get her out. But don’t expect me to play nice if she goes feral.”

Charles nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you, Logan. We’ll do everything we can to make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

Logan stood up from his chair, cracking his neck as he moved toward the door. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t end up regrettin’ this.”

As Logan stalked out of the room, Ororo exchanged a glance with Scott, who sighed softly. “He’ll come around,” Scott said, though there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“He always does,” Jean murmured, watching the door where Logan had disappeared. “Eventually.”

Charles sat back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the image of Eva on the screen once again. Her small, frail figure was a stark contrast to the power that resided within her.

“She will need time,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. “But I believe in her potential. She is more than what they’ve tried to make her.”

And with that, the plan was set. They were going to get Eva out of that lab. Whether or not she could ever be truly free from what had been done to her, though, was another question entirely.

*** 

They needed to act quickly. No one was here for now, but they didn’t when they would be back.

The sharp scent of antiseptic and cold metal filled the underground lab, the walls lined with sterile, reflective surfaces that amplified the clinical horror of the place. Logan led the way. His claws twitched within his knuckles, ready to spring at any moment. Behind him, Storm, Jean and Cyclops moved in silence, their eyes scanning the corridor for any threats. They had heard rumors of this lab—where scientists experimented on mutants—but nothing had prepared them for the twisted reality.

Then Logan's senses sharpened.

"She's close," he growled, his voice barely a whisper, yet thick with urgency.

The lab was dimly lit, sterile, and cold. The sharp scent of chemicals hung in the air, mixed with something darker—something that stank of pain and fear. The X-Men moved quietly, their boots silent against the sleek metal floors. 

“Chuck better be damn sure about this one,” he muttered under his breath, his fists clenched tight. “I ain’t buyin’ this ‘save the girl’ crap.”

Jean turned her head slightly, giving Logan a sharp look. “You know she didn’t choose this, Logan. She’s a victim.”

“Yeah? You tellin’ me she’s not dangerous?” Logan’s voice was a low growl, tinged with irritation. “Because I’ve seen plenty of ‘victims’ go off and take half a town with ‘em.”

“She’s a kid,” Storm cut in, her voice firm but calm. “She’s been tortured. She needs help.”

Logan rolled his eyes, his claws itching to come out. This whole mission felt wrong to him. Saving people? Fine. But saving a mutant who could, at any second, go berserk and tear them all apart? Not so fine.

“You’re all thinkin’ with your hearts,” he muttered, his tone harsh. “And that’s a good way to get us all killed. Just sayin’.”

Cyclops shot him a look, his jaw tightening. “We’re here to help her, Logan. If you can’t handle that, maybe you should’ve stayed at the mansion.”

Logan sneered, his lip curling. “Maybe I shoulda.”

But he didn’t. Despite every instinct telling him to turn around and walk away, he came along. Part of him didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way Charles had looked at him, that quiet conviction in his voice when he said, “She needs us, Logan.”

Logan had heard those words before. He’d been the one who needed saving once. And yeah, he’d been dangerous too. But it didn’t mean he had to like this mission—or trust this girl.

They rounded a corner and found a room that reeked of fear. Through a cracked glass wall, Logan saw her—huddled in the corner, shackled to a metal chair. Her appearance was fragile, like a broken bird too wounded to fly. Tangled hair fell over her face, and her body seemed emaciated, but the air around her pulsed with something dangerous. 

Logan’s stomach tightened as he looked at her. She was small, fragile-looking, her eyes hollow, like she hadn’t seen anything good in a long time. But that wasn’t what set him on edge. No, it was the raw power he could feel rolling off her in waves, even though the thick glass. She was a bomb. One wrong move, and she’d go off.

“Let’s get her out of there,” Cyclops said, moving toward the controls.

Logan bristled, stepping forward. “Wait. What’s the plan here, huh? We just let her loose, hope she’s all sunshine and rainbows?”

 “Logan,” Jean said, her voice steady, “we can calm her down. She’s scared. She’s not going to hurt us.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the last guy who thought he had a handle on a mutant with no control.” Logan’s voice was hard, his eyes narrowed. “That guy ended up in pieces.”

Cyclops sighed, clearly losing patience. “Logan, we didn’t come here to debate this. We came here to get her out. Stand aside.”

Logan didn’t move, his eyes locked on the girl. Something in his gut twisted, but he shoved it aside. “Fine,” he muttered. “But when this goes sideways, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

The glass door slid open with a low hiss, and for a moment, nothing happened. Eva didn’t move, didn’t even look up. She was still, like an animal caught in a trap, waiting for something worse to happen.

Jean stepped forward, her voice gentle. “Eva? We’re here to help you. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Logan snorted under his breath. Safe. Yeah, right.

Storm moved forward. "We’re here to help," she said gently, trying to project calm through her voice. Her hand moved to the console, disengaging the restraints that held the girl. The moment the locks clicked open, the girl lifted her head.

At first, Eva didn’t respond. But then her eyes flicked up, and Logan saw it—the fear, the confusion. And beneath it, a barely contained surge of raw, unchecked power..

Before anyone could say a word, Eva’s body tensed, and Logan’s instincts screamed at him. Something snapped inside her, a ripple of energy that exploded outward.

“Shit!” Logan barely had time to react before the force hit him, slamming into his chest like a freight train and sending him flying back into the wall with a grunt. The others were thrown back as well, but Jean managed to hold up a telekinetic shield just in time to soften the blow.

Logan hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him. His head spun as he pushed himself up, his vision blurry for a moment. “Goddamn it,” he snarled.

Cyclops struggled to his feet, his visor sparking. “Jean, calm her down, now!”

“I’m trying!” Jean said, her voice strained as she reached out mentally, but Eva’s panic was overwhelming. The raw emotions she absorbed from the team—fear, frustration, Logan’s anger—were feeding her powers, making them spiral out of control.

Logan gritted his teeth, claws snapping out instinctively. His healing factor allowed him to push through the pain, but it didn’t stop the girl’s attack. The forcefield around her shimmered, pulsating with her terror. She backed into a corner, eyes wide with an animalistic rage, and her breathing was ragged, panicked.

Logan got back on his feet, his body aching from the impact, but he was pissed now. “This is what I’m talkin’ about!” he growled, stalking forward, his claws gleaming. “You can’t control her!” 

Eva’s eyes darted wildly, her chest heaving as waves of energy pulsed off her, distorting the air around her. Her hands trembled, her face twisted in terror. She was completely out of control, her powers lashing out blindly.

"Stay back!" she screamed. "I don’t—don’t come near me!"

Logan pushed himself up, panting. "We’re not here to hurt ya, kid," he said, voice gruff but calmer than before, trying to anchor her in the chaos of her mind. But her eyes had already glazed over—she was lost to the overwhelming storm inside her.

“Eva!” Jean called, her voice soothing but desperate. “Please, you need to stop!” 

But it was no use. Eva couldn’t hear her over the roar of her own panic. 

Logan moved in, fast and low, dodging another pulse of energy that nearly sent him sprawling. His patience was shot, his temper flaring hot. He’d warned them. He’d told them this was a bad idea. And now this girl was about to bring the whole lab down on top of them. 

“Enough of this!” Logan snarled, charging at her with his claws raised. 

Eva’s eyes snapped to him, her panic morphing into raw fear, and without thinking, she thrust her hands out. A blast of energy hit Logan square in the chest, sending him flying back again, slamming into a steel pillar with a bone-rattling crash.

“Dammit!” Logan spat, coughing as he got back to his feet, his ribs screaming in protest. His vision blurred for a second, rage bubbling inside him. “I told you!” he shouted at Cyclops, who was trying to keep his balance. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

Eva staggered back, her body trembling violently. She looked at Logan with wide, terrified eyes, realizing what she’d done. She hadn’t meant to. She didn’t want to hurt him. But the damage was done.

Logan’s gaze locked on hers, filled with fury and mistrust. “You’re gonna kill us all, kid,” he growled, his voice rough, dripping with venom.

“Logan, stop!” Jean shouted, stepping between them. “You’re making it worse!”

“Worse? You think it can get worse than this?” Logan barked, his eyes blazing with anger. “She’s a loose cannon, and you’re all actin’ like she’s some poor helpless kid. She’s not! She’s a damn weapon!” 

Eva’s breath hitched, her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes. She wasn’t a weapon. She wasn’t a monster. But that’s all they saw, wasn’t it? That’s all she’d ever be to anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“Yeah?” Logan’s voice was sharp, cutting into her like a knife. “Well, you did.” 

Before Eva could respond, Storm stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding. “Logan, enough.” 

Logan’s scowl deepened, but he backed off, his claws retracting with a sharp snikt. He shot an angry glare at Eva, his eyes filled with mistrust. “If you can’t control yourself, you don’t belong out here.” 

Eva’s heart clenched, her body trembling as she took a step back. The pain in Logan’s words cut deeper than any wound. She didn’t want to be this way. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. But all she ever seemed to do was cause more pain.

A tidal wave of agony and fear threatened to consume her. Haunting recollections of torment, of relentless experimentation, surged through the maze of her mind. The harsh utterances of the man had become a ceaseless refrain since her arrival here. She was reduced to nothing more than an implement of warfare, forged for the benefit of others. Her emotions, her own inner turmoil, were inconsequential. She was bereft of care or compassion. 

Tears welled up in her eyes, a dam of pent-up emotion threatening to break. The potency of his words was such that it cleaved her to the quick, opening fresh wounds and exposing deeply buried insecurities in her already scarred heart. He needed to grasp the truth, he needed to comprehend the reality of her existence: she was no monster.  

Her presence here was not a matter of choice, but rather of necessity.

Without warning, she lunged at him. Her hand made contact with his arm, and suddenly, a flood of raw emotions poured into him. Fear. Pain. Desperation. The weight of all the suffering she had endured hit Logan like a punch to the gut. His mind reeled as her powers synced with his, letting him feel what she felt.  

The room distorted around him—her memories blurring into his thoughts. Logan saw flashes: needles piercing her skin, the cold, merciless faces of scientists, the endless nights spent in isolation. Every ounce of agony and torture she’d endured slammed into him, nearly buckling his knees. 

"Get out of my head!" Logan snarled, shaking her off. But it was too late—her power had taken hold, binding their emotions together like a knot. 

"Logan!" Cyclops shouted, firing a quick burst from his optic blast. The force knocked her back, but only momentarily. The girl screamed again, and this time her forcefield flared with blinding intensity, hurling them all across the room. 

Storm shot into the air, lightning crackling around her as she tried to contain the energy swirling around the girl. "We have to neutralize her, Logan—she can’t control it!" 

"I know!" he barked, struggling to regain his balance as another pulse of energy sent a chair crashing into the wall. His claws slid back into place. He could see it in the girl’s eyes—she wasn’t attacking them out of malice. It was terror. Pure, unbridled terror. But it didn’t matter. Right now, she was a threat. 

Logan moved toward her again, determined this time. "Listen, kid," he growled, "I know what they did to you. But we’re not them. You’ve gotta stop—" 

She didn’t. Her hand shot up, and suddenly Logan was on the floor, his ribs burning as her force slammed him again. But this time, before she could do more damage, a blinding streak of light shot through the air. Cyclops’ blast hit her square in the chest, knocking her unconscious. Her body crumpled, and the forcefield flickered out. 

The room fell silent. 

Logan dragged himself to his feet, clutching his side. "Dammit," he muttered under his breath, shaking the lingering disorientation from his head. 

Storm knelt beside the unconscious girl, her expression a mix of sympathy and concern. "She's just a kid, Logan," she whispered.

"Doesn't change what she can do," he replied, his voice low and dangerous.

Cyclops approached cautiously, his visor still glowing faintly. "We need to get her back to the mansion. Charles might be able to help her... stabilize."

Logan glanced at the girl’s fragile form, her face calm in sleep but haunted by the shadows of what she had been through. Something in him twisted. She was broken, just like him—but there was something more dangerous about her. Something darker.  

"Maybe," Logan grunted. But his eyes lingered on her longer than he intended. He couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how much they tried to help her, she was a ticking time bomb. And no one—not Charles, not the X-Men, not even himself—would be able to stop her if she went off again. 

Cyclops looked at Logan, as though sensing his unease. "You think we’re making a mistake?"

Logan snorted. "I don’t trust her." His gaze remained hard, unyielding. "And I don’t think she trusts us either." 

They gathered the girl carefully, carrying her out of the lab. But as they left the cold steel behind, Logan couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion in his gut. Something about her still clawed at his instincts. 

And Logan always trusted his instincts.

***

The X-Men team arrived back at the school in the early hours of the morning. The sky was still dark, the stars barely visible against the approaching dawn. The mansion loomed ahead, its windows softly illuminated by the interior lights.

Eva, awake already and restrained by the power-dampening cuffs, was guided through the front entrance. Her eyes were downcast, her steps slow and hesitant. She hasn’t talked much on their way back and no one was really in a talkative mood either. The only interaction Eva had was with Logan’s constant stare. 

The team moved with purpose but with an underlying tension. Logan walked alongside her, his jaw set and his eyes wary. 

As they reached the foyer, Charles Xavier awaited them in his wheelchair, his expression a mix of concern and resolve. He had been up all night, preparing for this moment. He wheeled forward to meet them, his gaze settling on Eva with a gentle, reassuring look.

“Welcome back,” Charles said softly, his voice warm. “I’m glad to see you’re all safe.” 

Logan, his eyes still fixed on Eva, grunted. “We got her here, but I’m telling you, this one’s a liability. Her powers are way out of control.” 

Charles nodded, his eyes never leaving Eva. “I understand your concerns, Logan. Eva, we’ll be taking you to the hospital wing for now. It’s important that we manage your powers and ensure everyone’s safety while we figure things out.”

Eva met Charles’s gaze briefly, her fear evident, but his kind eyes offered a small measure of comfort. She followed him and the team down the hall, her movements slow and cautious. 

As they approached the hospital wing, Charles turned to Logan, his expression thoughtful. “Logan, I know you’re worried. Her abilities are indeed formidable, and it’s natural to be concerned.” 

Logan’s brows furrowed, his frustration palpable. “Formidable? The girl almost killed me. She’s a risk, Charles. We don’t know what she’s capable of if she loses control again.” 

Charles placed a calming hand on Logan’s arm. “I understand. But she’s also a person who’s been through unimaginable suffering. We need to balance our caution with compassion. She’s scared and alone, and that’s why we need to approach this with care.” 

Logan shrugged off Charles’s hand, his gaze still dark. “Careful or not, we’re walking a tightrope here. One slip and we could all be in trouble.” 

Charles’s tone was firm yet soothing. “Yes, we are walking a tightrope. But remember, we have the means to help her, and we must give her a chance to prove that she can find control. We’ve faced dangers before, and we’ve come through. We will handle this situation with the same resolve.” 

Logan sighed heavily, his eyes narrowing. “Just keep her in check. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” 

“I will,” Charles said softly. “And we’ll do everything we can to ensure that doesn’t happen. But we also need to give Eva a chance to find her place here, just as we all had our own moments of struggle.” 

Logan’s gaze flickered to Eva, who was now being gently guided into the hospital wing by the staff. He didn’t say anything more, but the hardness in his eyes softened slightly.

Charles watched Eva as she was led to a bed, his concern evident. He turned back to Logan, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “Thank you for your vigilance, Logan. It’s what makes you a valuable member of this team. And it’s what will help us find the best path forward for Eva.” 

Logan nodded curtly, his expression still tense. “Yeah, well, let’s hope you’re right.” 

Charles watched him leave with a thoughtful look. He knew that Logan’s fears were not unfounded, but he also believed in the power of empathy and understanding. For now, his focus was on Eva, ensuring that she felt safe and supported as she began this new chapter in her life. 

As the door to the hospital wing closed behind him, Charles took a deep breath, preparing to meet the challenges ahead with the same determination and compassion he hoped to instill in everyone around him.

***

Logan stood at the threshold of the med bay, his silhouette casting a long shadow on the floor. The hum of machines monitoring Eva’s vitals filled the quiet, sterile air. She lay in one of the beds, hooked up to a dozen wires, her frail body looking even smaller against the white sheets. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, her face pale and sunken, with dark circles under her eyes. She looked fragile—broken, even—but Logan knew better than to trust appearances.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles white, his nails biting into his palms. Anger simmered just beneath the surface, bubbling up through his veins like molten steel, but it wasn’t the familiar kind of anger. It wasn’t the kind that came from a fight or from someone he hated. It was… different, raw and twisted, like a splinter lodged deep in his gut that he couldn’t pull out. 

Logan took a step forward, his boots heavy against the cold floor. His eyes never left the girl, even though something inside him told him to turn away, to leave. But he couldn’t. He had to face it—face her. 

“Why the hell am I still here?” he muttered under his breath, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth. He didn’t know why, but something kept pulling him back. Maybe it was that look in her eyes when she’d blasted him across the lab, that raw fear and regret that hit him like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t meant to hurt him—not really. But that didn’t change what she could do. 

*She’s dangerous,* Logan thought, his teeth grinding together. *Too dangerous.* 

The med bay door slid open with a soft hiss behind him, and Jean stepped in quietly. She glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, then back to Eva. 

“She’s stabilized.” Jean said softly, her voice careful, as if she knew how close Logan was to snapping. “Her body’s been through a lot, but she’ll recover. Physically, at least.”

“Physically, huh?” Logan’s voice was low, a harsh rasp that betrayed the turmoil inside him. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Jean sighed, stepping closer to him, her gaze flicking between him and the girl. “I know you’re angry, Logan.”

“Angry?!” He barked out a bitter laugh. “Hell, Jean, I’m beyond that.” His eyes locked onto Eva, who lay still and silent, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him. “She almost tore me apart. If I didn’t have my healin’, I’d be lyin’ in pieces right now. And it ain’t just me. She’s got enough power in her to wipe out this whole school if she loses it again.” 

Jean’s voice softened, but there was a firmness underneath it. “She didn’t mean to hurt you, Logan. She was scared. She still is.”

“I don’t care what she meant to do,” Logan growled, taking a step closer to Eva’s bed, his fists clenched. “What matters is what she can do. She’s outta control, Jean. And you’re tellin’ me you’re okay with keepin’ her here? Around the kids? You really want to risk that?” 

Jean didn’t respond right away, her eyes lingering on Eva’s small, fragile form. “She’s still young, Logan. A young girl who’s been tortured, experimented on. She didn’t ask for any of this.” 

“And what happens when she can’t keep it together?” Logan shot back, his voice harsh, laced with anger. “What happens when she lashes out again? You think the kids are safe with her around?” 

Jean’s silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, she turned to face him fully, her voice gentle but firm. “Logan, I know you’re worried. We all are. But we can’t just give up on her.” 

Logan’s face twisted, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with an intensity that made even Jean flinch slightly. “Maybe we should,” he muttered, his voice low, dangerous. 

The words felt like poison on his tongue, but part of him believed them. He didn’t want to hate her—hell, he didn’t even know why he did—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that keeping her here was a mistake. A big one. It wasn’t just about what she’d done to him in that lab, or even what she was capable of. It was the feeling that clung to his skin like sweat whenever he looked at her—the feeling that she was a walking disaster waiting to happen. 

“Look, I get it, Jean,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, though still rough. “She’s a victim. But you can’t tell me that doesn’t make her more dangerous, not less. All that power, all that hurt… It’s a bad mix. She’s too damn powerful, and she’s got no control over it.” 

Jean opened her mouth to respond, but Logan cut her off. “You don’t get it,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “I can feel it. She’s unstable. You saw what she did without even tryin’. That’s the problem, Jean. She ain’t tryin’, and she still almost killed me. You really think it’ll be any different next time?” 

Jean’s eyes softened, but Logan could see the conflict in them. “She’s not beyond help. Charles thinks—” 

“Charles is a damn optimist,” Logan spat, shaking his head. “And maybe he’s wrong this time.” 

The room fell silent after that, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Jean didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree either. She just stood there, her hands folded in front of her, looking at Logan like she was waiting for something—waiting for him to let go of the anger that twisted his face into something hard and unrecognizable. 

But he couldn’t. 

Logan’s eyes drifted back to Eva, lying there so still, so helpless. His gut twisted again, that strange mix of guilt and fury gnawing at him. He hated her. He hated the situation. And he hated himself for feeling this way. But every time he tried to shake it, tried to tell himself she was just another lost kid who needed help, all he could see was the blast of power that had sent him flying, the fear and confusion in her eyes as she lost control. 

*Too dangerous,* he thought again, clenching his fists. 

His mind raced. He couldn’t figure out why his anger was so fierce, why his hatred for this girl seemed so personal. Maybe it was because he’d been there—maybe not the same way, but close enough. Maybe it was because her powers were so raw, so unchecked, like his claws before he learned how to control them. Or maybe it was because he saw a reflection of himself in her—what he could have been, what he was still afraid he could become. 

Whatever the reason, it didn’t change how he felt. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t hurt someone again, someone who wasn’t as tough to bounce back as he was. 

“She’s too powerful,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jean. “She doesn’t belong here.” 

Jean took a step closer, her hand resting gently on his arm. “She’s scared, Logan. Just like you were once.” 

He jerked his arm away, glaring at her. “Don’t. Don’t make this about me. This is about her. She’s dangerous, and you know it.” 

Jean didn’t flinch, though her voice softened. “And so were you, Logan. But we didn’t give up on you. And I won’t give up on her.” 

Logan let out a rough sigh, turning away from her, his eyes fixed on the door now. He couldn’t stand being in that room any longer. Not with her lying there, not with all the anger boiling up inside him. His heart felt too heavy, weighed down by everything he didn’t want to feel. 

“I’m tellin’ you, Jean,” he muttered as he moved toward the door, his voice hard again, “you’re makin’ a mistake. And when it all goes wrong, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

With that, he stormed out of the med bay, the door hissing shut behind him. But the knot of anger and guilt stayed with him, gnawing at his insides, refusing to let him go.

 ***

Eva's eyelids fluttered open to the soft hum of medical machinery and the muted light of early morning filtering through the blinds. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor and the occasional shuffle of footsteps outside. She blinked groggily, her mind struggling to piece together the events of the previous day.

The room was sterile and clinical, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh lab she’d known. Her wrists felt heavy, the power-dampening cuffs still securely fastened. As she shifted slightly, the soft rustle of the hospital bed linens reminded her of her vulnerable state. She winced, feeling the dull ache of yesterday’s emotional and physical turmoil.

She glanced around, trying to take in her surroundings. The walls were painted a soothing blue, and a small window offered a view of the gardens outside. It was a serene setting, but Eva felt anything but calm. The memories of her violent outburst and the fear in Logan's eyes replayed in her mind like a relentless loop.

Her breath quickened, and the panic spread. She tugged at the restraints, jerking her arms violently as she tried to free herself, but it was useless. The cuffs held firm, and with each tug, the fear inside her grew. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered what had almost happened—what she’d nearly done. 

"I could’ve killed them. I almost killed them." 

Her stomach twisted, and bile rose in her throat. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She never wanted to hurt anyone, but it didn’t matter anymore. She was too dangerous, too unstable, and the more they tried to help her, the more they were at risk. Everyone was in danger because of her. 

Her thoughts spiraled, faster and faster, and for a brief moment, she considered ripping her own wrists raw against the restraints, breaking free just to get as far away as possible. She couldn’t stay here. She didn’t belong here. She shouldn’t even be alive. 

Her body shook as the realization hit her. She didn’t want to live like this anymore. Every breath felt like a burden, every second a threat to those around her. 

"Why didn’t they just let me die?" 

Before she could spiral further, the door to the hospital wing hissed open, and heavy footsteps echoed through the sterile room. She stiffened, her eyes darting toward the figure who entered. 

It was him. Logan. 

He crossed the room with that familiar roughness, his boots heavy on the tile floor. His face was hard, expression unreadable, but the tension in his jaw and the simmering anger in his eyes told her all she needed to know. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t trust her. And she couldn’t blame him. 

Logan stopped at the foot of her bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at her. "You awake, then?" His voice was gruff, biting, as if the mere sight of her irritated him. 

Eva didn’t respond at first, her eyes still wide with fear. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, the weight of the handcuffs pressing into her skin. Her throat tightened, but she managed to whisper, “Why… why am I still here?” 

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his lip curling slightly. "Good question. I’ve been askin’ myself the same thing." 

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill over, but she swallowed them down. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” 

Logan’s eyes flashed, and he took a step closer. “That’s the problem, kid. You didn’t mean to, but you did. Almost tore me apart, nearly killed everyone in that damn lab. Hell, if you’d gone all the way, this whole place could’ve been rubble by now.” His voice was low, dangerous, each word dripping with the frustration he was barely holding back.  

Eva’s chest tightened, guilt flooding her system. “I don’t know how to control it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop it." 

Logan’s gaze didn’t soften. If anything, his eyes grew colder, harder. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You can’t control it. So why the hell should we trust you? Why should we risk the kids, the people in this school, just because you’re scared?” 

Tears finally spilled over, and Eva shook her head, feeling the weight of his words crush her. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be alive!” Her voice was desperate, her entire body trembling. “You’re right, okay? I’m a danger to everyone, and I know it. You should’ve let me die.” 

Logan’s face twitched, just for a second, and something flashed in his eyes—something almost like regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same hard, cold mask. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Maybe we should’ve.” 

His words hit her like a slap, and Eva turned her head away, unable to look at him anymore. Her chest heaved with sobs, the weight of everything pressing down on her until she couldn’t breathe. 

Just then, the door to the med bay slid open again, and Charles Xavier entered, his wheelchair moving silently across the floor. The tension in the room shifted, and Logan stepped back slightly, though his posture remained rigid.

Charles’s voice was soft, calming, as he approached the bed. “Eva,” he said gently, his eyes kind as he looked at her. “You’re safe now.” 

“Safe?” Eva’s voice was bitter, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. “How can you say that? I almost killed him.” She nodded toward Logan. “I could’ve killed all of you. I’m not safe. Not for you, not for anyone.” 

Charles’s expression remained calm, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes. “We understand that you’ve been through unimaginable pain. But you’re not beyond help, Eva. We can work with you, teach you how to control your powers. You don’t have to go through this alone.” 

But Eva shook her head violently, panic rising in her throat. “You don’t understand. They’re going to come for me. The people who did this to me, they’ll come back. And if I’m here, they’ll destroy everything in their way. You’ll all be in danger because of me. I—” Her voice broke, and she lowered her head, trembling. “Please… please just kill me. End it. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.” 

Logan’s jaw clenched at her words, his anger bubbling up again. He wanted to snap at her, to tell her how selfish it was to think death was the answer, how ridiculous she sounded. But instead, he stood there, watching her break down, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of something else. Pity, maybe. Regret. He hated it, but it was there. Deep down.

For a moment, he saw himself in her—the same lost, broken thing, unsure of his place in the world. And it twisted something inside him.

Charles leaned forward, his tone soft but firm. “We don’t give up on anyone, Eva. You have a home here, if you choose to stay. We will help you, as long as you let us.” 

Eva shook her head again, tears streaming down her face. “I’m too dangerous. You’re making a mistake.” 

Logan exhaled sharply, stepping forward. “Maybe we are,” he growled, his voice cutting through the air. “But that’s not your call to make. You wanna give up? Fine. But Charles is right—we don’t give up on people here. So you’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not.”

His words hung in the air, and Eva stared at him through tear-filled eyes. She didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved, but all she felt was the crushing weight of guilt and fear. She wanted to believe they could help her, but deep down, she wasn’t sure anyone could.

And that terrified her most of all. 

Eva’s tears soaked into the hospital pillow, and for a moment, the room was thick with silence. She couldn’t shake the terror clawing at her chest. Charles’s kind words barely registered through the haze of guilt and fear. Every instinct screamed to get away, to run before she hurt someone again. But the restraints around her wrists, humming with the suppression of her powers, kept her pinned to the bed, a prisoner to her own body.

Logan stood by the door, arms crossed, his expression dark. He had always been a difficult person to read, but right now, his anger was crystal clear. He didn’t want her here. He’d made that painfully obvious. Part of her agreed with him. She was too dangerous. Even if Charles promised help, what could they really do? 

She had almost killed them. All of them. Logan, especially, and he wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon.

Logan broke the silence first, his voice sharp and cutting. "You think just 'cause we say we’ll help, that’s some kinda ticket outta responsibility? That you can just sit back and let us fix you? You’ve gotta want it. And I don’t think you do, kid."

Eva flinched at his words, her face contorting in pain. His anger wasn’t just justified—it was expected—but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. She turned her head away, unable to look at him.

"I don’t want anything," she whispered. "I just want to disappear."

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his frustration clearly boiling over. He took a step closer to the bed, his voice rising. "You think you’re the only one who’s been through hell? You think you’re special ’cause they did some experiments on you? Join the damn club." He jabbed his thumb at his own chest, his scowl deepening. "I’ve been there. I’ve done all that, and guess what? I didn’t get a choice. So don’t you stand there askin’ us to give up on you just ‘cause you’re scared."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and Eva’s tears flowed harder. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had been through hell, yes, but she didn’t have his strength. She couldn’t fight it the way he had. Her powers were out of control, and she was too weak, too broken to even try.

“I can’t control it,” she choked, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop it. You don’t understand. They built me to be a weapon. I’m a ticking time bomb, and sooner or later, I’ll explode again.”

Logan clenched his fists, his knuckles white as the words hit him. He hated how familiar it all sounded, hated how much of his own past he could hear in her voice. But he couldn’t let that soften him, not when the stakes were this high. Not when she could destroy everything they’d built here, everything they protected.

 “I get it, alright?” Logan growled. “You’re scared, and yeah, maybe you’ve been turned into a weapon, but that doesn’t mean you get to give up. You’re here now, and if you’re gonna stay, you better start fightin’ for somethin’ other than your damn self-pity.”

Eva trembled, her wrists pulling at the restraints as if she could somehow claw her way out of this nightmare. “I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be anywhere. I should’ve died in that lab. It would’ve been better for everyone.”

Logan’s face tightened, a growl building in his throat. His anger, which had been simmering on the surface, was threatening to break loose. But before he could unleash another biting remark, Charles raised a hand, his voice calm but firm.

"Logan," Charles said gently, his gaze shifting from the girl to the man, “perhaps we should ease up.” 

Logan shot Charles a sharp look, but there was something in the Professor’s eyes that made him pause, though the tension in his body remained. He backed off a step, arms still crossed, but the scowl stayed firmly in place. His anger wasn’t gone—it was just barely contained. 

Charles turned his attention back to Eva, his voice soft and steady, the same calm she’d heard from him before. But this time, it pierced through her haze of fear just a little. 

"Eva," he began, "I understand why you’re afraid. I can’t pretend to know the extent of your pain, but I do know this: you are not alone. You are not the first person to feel like their powers are too much to bear, and you won’t be the last. This place, this school, is for people just like you." 

Eva shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “You don’t get it. It’s not just me. The people who did this—they’ll come back for me. They’ll come for all of you. You’ll be in danger because of me.”

Charles’s expression didn’t waver. “We’ve faced threats before, Eva. But we believe in protecting those who cannot protect themselves. No one here will abandon you, no matter how great the risk.” 

“Maybe you should,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “Maybe it’d be better if you did.” 

Logan scoffed from the corner, his patience thinning. "Maybe she’s got a point. You’re gambling a lot on someone who’s not even sure she wants to be saved, Charles. She could bring this whole place down." 

Eva flinched again at his words, her heart aching with the weight of them. He was right. What was the point of trying to help her if she didn’t even know if she could be helped?

But Charles, as always, remained resolute. 

“I know the risks,” Charles said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. “But I also know that we must give her a chance. Eva, if you stay here, we will do everything in our power to help you gain control. You can have a life, a real life, outside of the torment they put you through.” 

Eva swallowed hard, her chest tight. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to, but the fear was too overwhelming. What if she couldn’t control it? What if Logan was right, and she was just too dangerous to be here? 

She shook her head, the tears never stopping. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s even possible.” 

Charles leaned closer, his eyes filled with the kind of kindness she hadn’t seen in a long time. “We will help you find out. But first, you must give yourself that chance.” 

Eva’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the Professor, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was offering her a lifeline, but could she trust herself to take it? 

Her eyes drifted to Logan, still standing with his arms crossed, his face hard. He looked at her like she was a threat, like she didn’t belong here. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe he was right.

But part of her wanted to fight. Just a small part, buried beneath all the pain and fear, but it was there, flickering weakly.

“I don’t… I don’t know how,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

Charles smiled gently. “You start by staying. By trusting us.��� 

Logan scoffed again but said nothing, though his eyes bore into her, still filled with distrust. But for a fleeting second, something flickered in his gaze. Maybe it was pity, or maybe just the faintest trace of understanding. Either way, it didn’t last long, quickly replaced by the cold mask of doubt. 

Eva closed her eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn’t know if she could trust them—or herself. But for the first time in a long time, she had a choice. She could choose to run. Or she could choose to stay and try. 

It was the scariest choice she’d ever faced.

[eff-plays]

Found some really good analysis of Astarion having 10 Charisma on a Youtube video, plus comparisons to a bard Tav because bard supremacy.

Text version under the cut!

Youtube comment from user TF2CrunchyFrog:

Astarion having a default Charisma of only 10 feels like the biggest joke of the entire game. Like, the one characters whose background story as a vampire spawn involves is him having spent the past 170 years being basically prostituted by Cazador his vampire master, being forced to rely on seduction and manipulation to survive, the guy that even various NPCs and even the Narrator remark about how beautiful he is canonically... But instead of the game devs making him a Bard, he's the DEX-based Rogue (I mean, he's a darn good Rogue, but) with the potential Arcane Trickster subclass (which needs INT as base attribute). When I played an Origin run as Astarion, I respecced him slightly and lowered his CON from 15 to 14 and his WIS from 13 to 12 and used that to upgrade his CHA to 12. Astarion being a Rogue is the anomaly here... because when did he learn that? If he was a magistrate while alive -- although the writers chucked the rest of his tentative background story from the earliest stages of the games back in 2020 into the dumpster and changed "corrupt" into "tragic", which gave him more depth, so maybe him claiming at first meeting that he's a magistrate in Baldur's Gate is him serving you a double-lie instead of just a single lie (as he hasn't been whatever profession or status he had while alive for the past nearly 200 years).

BiRios replying to TF2CrunchyFrog:

or all his charm is well…superficial. His skills don’t actually lie there. At least that’s how I took it. He’s all this pomp and circuses but by now it’s just…flat

Raikos100 replying to BiRios:

tbh I agree. Feels like he always not taking things serious, like always joking around, so in a sense you usually don't trust him for anything with his attitude, it's not someone you would trust or take a word irl. Guy tells you "only a sip" and proceeds to suck you dry like a capri sun 😂

samisuhonen9815 replying to TF2CrunchyFrog:

I think he has a 10 in charisma because he is naturally and superficially charming. But in reality, he is not a SKILLED charmer or a smooth talker. Someone who has 16 or more charisma, is a capable of lying, deceiving, performing, even at the cost of one's ego. He/she has the skills to adapt and spin new wild stories on the spot, improvising at all times. I don't think Astarion really has that. He knows how to sound fancy. He knows how to be sarcastic and witty. But he is not someone who can appeal to any person and talk his way out of anything. Say he gets blamed for something. His selfish and defensive instinct would be to insult the person back. A true charisma giga chad is able to see that this sort of behavior will not get him/her what he/she wants. He/she is able to de-escalate the situation and redirect it into a direction that gets the rizzler what he/she wants.

river8783 replying to samisuhonen9815:

Exactly. Playing a bard Tav highlights this difference really well. Half the options listed as solutions during conversations are ones you know Astarion wouldn't think of, or fail miserably at because of all the reasons you listed. He's fun and funny, but also he should thank his lucky stars you're there to talk for him cause he'd be so freakin dead on his own.

[neyafromfrance95]

I really don’t understand why people are so divided on Celeborn. Like he’s always just been there and I never expected TROP to change that. Sure he’s boring but I can acknowledge that for Galadriel he makes sense and that she does love him. It doesn’t effect the intrigue of her relationship with Sauron which already existed well before TROP. It’s just that the show was smart enough to realize that and flesh it out. I think some fans have a provincial view on love and don’t understand that various layers of it can exist without detracting from the other. I can believe that Galadriel is in love and happy with Celebron and STILL feels a cosmic soul connection to Sauron. I think the writers understand that this is the meat of this adaptation because there’s a reason certain tropes are classics; the whole dark/light, good/evil push and pull. On a different note it also makes me wonder why people feel the need to whitewash Sauron’s character as this man who wants to try to be ‘good’ in order to ship him and Galadriel. I think s2 makes it very clear that he is at his core a dark and evil entity who at the very most finds human morality an interesting curiosity and warps ideas of goodness for his own gain. And monsters can still feel love, like I think he definitely feels connected to Galadriel and will only ever feel as deeply as he is capable for another being, for her. But because he is what he is, he has no problem manipulating her for what he thinks is best for her and ultimately what serves himself. They are on totally different ends in how they perceive the world and yet they see each other so clearly. This is what makes it interesting for me at least. Anyway let me stop rambling now lol

yeah, i agree.

i see celeborn as this emotional support husband who (unlike many other male characters in lotr) doesn't "dominate" his wife and is rather her follower. there is a good malewife potential for him, lol. and he is pretty much just a background "husband" character, not taking away the spotlight from galadriel.

and yes, just bc galadriel ends up married to celeborn and they might have a nice soft relationship doesn't mean that she doesn't have a far more special and deep connection with sauron, more passionate and poetic even.

but the reason why they can't be together and the whole tragic beauty of sauron x galadriel is that her gaze is fixed on the light while he is the darkness incarnate. and the fact that sauron is this irredeemable evil yet still loves galadriel and her only but in his own twisted way is what makes it more fascinating!

i wish we could allow female characters to have complicated, complex and flawed relationships instead of trying to limit them to the simple wholesome and easily digestible ones.

that being said, i don't really think it's gonna be interesting to focus on galadriel's relationship with celeborn in trop. we know their story already, we've seen them together in other media. this is the story of galadriel x sauron and taking the focus away from this relationship by introducing celeborn would be far from compelling or satisfying development. that's the reason i don't really want to see him until the end of the show.

(also, again, the reason for celeborn demand and discourse is that a lot of incelbros want galadriel to be this tame wifey and they think celeborn is going to come and take away her sword, and a lot of moralists want us to stop shipping "taboo" ships such as sauron x galadriel.)

[anotherpjofan]

It always bugs me how Percy is so dependent on Annabeth for plans in HOO, I mean this is the boy that orchestrated a lot of the defense during the Battle for Manhattan! Like he was leading that battle! And it worked - it kept the monsters out of Manhattan/the Empire State Building long enough for reinforcements to show up (Party Ponies) and with the addition of Party Ponies, able to force Kronos to shift his barrier to a far smaller area! Like that is incredible! Percy is a brilliant strategist and it's a pity that RR reduced him down to powerful/comedic in the series, especially when Annabeth is present.

I know the Doylian reason for this is because for some reason RR overpowered the 5 new characters to the series and needed Annabeth to be equal to them in some way, so she became the only leader, the only strategist and the only one capable of it. And like there was no reason for them to be as powerful as they were? Like Jason, Hazel. Fine. They're Big Three Kids. Frank? He's powerful yes, but his abilities are greatly hampered by the fact that he literally holds his life in his hands, or rather in his pocket. But Leo and Piper? There should be no reason for them to be nearly as powerful as they are in the books. But if RR wanted all 5 kids to have powers, then he could have at least tried to balance Annabeth out. Like instead of giving Hazel Mist powers, when she has her own earth powers which would have been fascinating to see in the final battle of HOH, give it to Annabeth. Have her learn the Mist instead and use it to help her against Arachne. Like I understand the desire to have Annabeth to defeat Arachne using wisdom and logic, but having the Mist to help would definitely make it interesting.

This would be such a good premise for an AU????? hello???? cause we know that Thalia actually learned to manipulate the mist so she could have thought Annabeth and Annabeth being Annabeth obviously wouldn’t be satisfied with the basics and would have learned all that she could -

but yeah rick for sure fumbled and realised he overpowered percy (hence removal of the achilles curse) and needed some way to make sure the others were on the same level and something I noticed early on is that Percy and Annabeth are equals as in for every strategy that Annabeth comes up with Percy comes up with one that saves all of their assesses too. the only difference is that percy’s opinion is biased and he dumbs it down cause he doesn’t think highly of himself but from an outsiders perspective it’s clearly calculated yknow. like we see it as early as in book with where he bribes charon and manipulates crusty into his own torture device again this isn’t taking anything away from annabeth but I just need to let it be known that annabeth would never be with someone who she thinks is stupid like cmon girl would go crazy in a day like she genuinely respects percy and trusts his crazy plans

that being said firm believer of annabeth chase having powers. like yes she’s smart and all but ngl we really don’t see her explicitly showcasing it?? like other characters also have the same ability/planning abilities so where is her athena knowledge coming from?? (correct me if i’m wrong btw) but yeah rick fr did the others dirty

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You, Part 9 (Polin fic)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

A03 link if that’s more your jam

Chapter 9

Shame flooded over Penelope, she felt so very embarrassed to be caught in such a compromising position. Colin, on the other hand, simply rose to his full height, consequently blocking her view of Eloise. “Give us a second, El,” he commanded. His hair was ruffled from when her fingers ran through the strands, his face flushed, waistcoat unbuttoned, but he appeared unperturbed by his own flustered appearance. If anything, he was more concerned with tucking the loose strands of her hair behind her ear than dealing with his angry sister. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly, fixing the neckline of her dress that had been pulled low under his frantic grasp.

She quickly buttoned his vest before righting her own clothing. Wet marks from where his mouth had suckled her nipples stained her dress, and she froze for a second, horrified by the sight. What was she going to do? Under no circumstances could she return to the sitting room where others were present. They would know instantly something sordid had taken place.

As if reading her mind, he grazed her cheeks with his fingers. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you a shawl you can use.”

“How long have you been plotting this?” Eloise demanded, approaching them. Her words were directed at Penelope, tone saturated with anger. “You couldn’t use me anymore so now you’re manipulating Colin to get to my family?”

“That is not true!” Penelope defended herself. “I’ve been keeping my distance-”

“Yes, clearly. That must be why you were in the midst of swallowing his face,” Eloise snarked.

“What Pen and I do doesn’t concern you,” Colin remarked dryly, turning to confront Eloise.

“You don’t know her like I do, brother. You have no idea what she’s capable of!”

“I know she has never spoken ill of you but that hasn’t stopped you from slandering her.”

“Don’t fall for it, Colin. Her friendliness is a disguise, underneath she’s nothing but a petty, spiteful witch!”  

“And you’re not, Eloise?” Penelope fired back. Her attempts to confront Eloise face-to-face was hindered by Colin who caged her in a firm grip. “Your sudden friendship with Cressida has nothing to do with how horrible she is to me? I suppose you befriended her out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Cressida treats people the way they deserve.”

“By bullying them? No wonder the two of you are so close!”

“Are you chastising me for bullying? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for years?”

An exasperated sigh escaped Colin. “The two of you were the best of friends, sisters practically, and now you’re bickering like fools. Is this really how you choose to conduct yourselves?”

“Do not lecture me when you were tupping her right here!” Eloise hissed.

“Enough!” His voice roared across the library, taking both women by surprise.

Colin wasn’t known to raise his voice. Usually calm, unlike Anthony, he used charm to diffuse precarious situations rather than his temper. Yet he’d already revealed his anger with Penelope when he was interrogating her earlier and now it was Eloise’s turn.

“Don’t you ever speak of her like that!” The violence in his voice was potent, causing Eloise to falter back as he directed his cold, seething rage at her. “I don’t give a fuck about what happened between you and Pen or who’s at fault. Whether you reconcile or not, I do not care. But do not make the mistake of insulting Penelope in my presence again, Eloise. You will not like the consequences of that!”

Eloise swallowed audibly. “So you would rather side with an outsider than your own sister?”

“She’s not an outsider to me.” There was no doubt in his voice, no hesitation as he leveled Penelope with a keen glance. “She matters more than you’ll ever know. And I will not let anyone disparage her.”

Penelope held his gaze, unable to look away.

“You must be pleased. You’ve already managed to turn him against me.”

Eloise’s pained tone snapped Penelope out of her daze, her heart squeezing with empathy. “Please, Eloise. It’s nothing like that. If we could just speak alone, I could explain to you-”

“Absolutely not,” Eloise interjected.

“I agree with El. It’s a terrible idea. I doubt the two of you can manage a civilized conversation,” Colin said in a highhanded tone, sounding much like Anthony.

“Stay out of it, Colin!” Penelope rebuked.

Eloise expressed a similar reaction. “You can not order me about. If I want to speak, I will!”

Spotting the fleeting twinkle in Colin’s eyes, it dawned on Penelope he had goaded Eloise on purpose; this outcome was exactly what he wanted. “Fine, then. I will be right outside the door. Hope you ladies can behave yourselves.” Concluding his impression of Anthony, he walked away.

They remained in place, silently eyeing each other. Seconds later, the door shut with a loud thud.

“I will not let you hurt my brother!” Eloise threatened. “If you think you can seduce Colin into marrying you, you’re wrong. It will not happen.”

“That is not what I want, Eloise! He…” Penelope swallowed the lump in her throat. “What you saw between us… I know it was wrong, I should have stopped him but I’ve loved him for so long and-”

“Love?” Eloise laughed mockingly. “You don’t even know what that is!”

“I love you, more than I love my own sisters. I miss you.”

“I do not believe you. You’re a liar!”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you, but you must know I had no choice. If I hadn’t published those things the Queen would have come after you!” 

Eloise shook her head. “Nothing you say can excuse what you’ve done. You’re a liar and a deceiver, that’s all you’re capable of.” Her eyes blazed with fury. “I haven’t revealed the truth about you out of respect for your family, they don’t deserve to suffer for your actions. But I will tell the Queen myself if you don’t stay away from mine. Then the whole world, and Colin, will know who you truly are!”

Penelope studied her friend, desperate to spot some form of sadness or yearning for their years long friendship. Something. Anything. But there was none, only contempt. And it finally dawned on her that their friendship had truly ended. With that realization came a swift flood of anger. “Then do it. Tell the Queen, tell everyone. Destroy me.” She approached Eloise with a slow, determined gait. “But realize that I’m not the only one you’ll be destroying. Lady Whistledown is a business. A successful, thriving one that benefits not only me but many of the working class. I employ servants, delivery boys, printing presses, coachmen. Even your friend Theo Sharpe. The extra money they earn allows them the freedom to pursue their dreams, to better their family’s lives. And you will be ending all of that.” Standing in front of Eloise, Penelope stared up at the other woman. Her gaze was direct, her voice cold. “So go ahead Eloise, do what you must. But do not be surprised when there are consequences to the choice you make. Word will eventually spread that it was you who dismantled their source of income, and they will not be happy.”

“Are you threatening me?” Eyebrow raised, Eloise stared down at Penelope with condescension. “You do take after your mother.”  

Penelope sent her a stiff smile. “You would do well to remember that.”

Eloise turned around and stormed out, leaving her alone in the library again. Her brave face dissipated instantly. Feeling sick, she clutched her stomach and closed her eyes. She took deep breaths to calm herself, her heart broken. Despite telling herself for months their friendship was over, she still harbored hope that she and Eloise would reconcile one day. But seeing the disdain Eloise held for her now, Penelope realized their friendship was irrevocably broken.

She opened her eyes to find Colin standing in front of her. The queasiness turned to butterflies, and her heart started pounding in her chest. After loving him for so long, she had finally come to terms with the fact he would never feel the same about her and she had moved on from that heartbreak. Had reconciled her mind to focus on a new love, new life – only to have Colin return and throw everything into chaos. Her temper rose. How dare he? How dare he turn her life upside down again?

“I suppose we don’t have to worry about Eloise telling others about us,” Colin noted.                                                                                             

“She wouldn’t.”

He stalked closer. “I gather things didn’t go well with Eloise.”     

“Impressive observation.”

He graced her with an amused smile. “Perhaps if I knew the cause of the rift, I could help resolve the issue.”

“Like you helped today?” she pointed out. “It’s best you stay out of it.”

“I will find out the truth. Sooner or later.”

And when he did, she had no doubt he would react the same way his sister did. Her heart grew heavy at the thought of him hating her. “I must go.” She tried to walk past him but he blocked her path, invading her personal space. He stood close, so close she had to look up at him.

His eyes were warm and intent roaming over her face, drifting down to her lips. “We need to discuss what happened last night.”

“There’s no need. I’d rather put it behind us and move on.”

The dark glint in his eyes returned. “Do you really believe I would allow that to happen?”

She peered up at him, her instincts signaling something was afoot. “When you came in earlier, you knew I would be alone.”

His fingers lightly grazed her own. “Yes.”

“But you came in anyway.”

“You were crying.”

“You kissed me on purpose.”

He leaned in, his breath humming against her skin. “We kissed, Penelope. Neither of us could resist the other.”

Her voice was a hushed whisper. “You knew my mother would send someone to look for me, didn’t you?”

He cocked his eyebrow.

“You wanted us to be caught.”

Silent, he watched her. “Yes.”

Rage flooded over her, she was so furious she could barely speak. “You have no care for my reputation, do you? It really doesn’t matter to you that you could have ruined me!” She shook her head at him with disgust. “You call yourself my friend but you’re not! You’re no better than the Cressida Cowpers of this society. You only want to humiliate me.”

She tried to push him away but he gripped her arms. Although she struggled against him, he was stronger, bracing her against his chest. “Did you leave me any choice, Penelope?” he demanded, his voice shaking with anger. “I asked you to be my wife and you turned me down. What else was I supposed to do? This was the only way to ensure you would marry me!”

“And what of my family? Or yours? Did you think about how this scandal would have affected them? Your sisters? Mine? Did you even care?”

His lips drew back in a snarl. “They would have survived. They always do. After we were married, things would have eventually returned to normal.”

She couldn’t wrap her mind around his words. “Who are you? What happened to you?” Tears glistened in her eyes. “The Colin I grew up with would never have been this selfish.”

“This is me! This is who I am now!” He gritted his teeth, eyes blazing with fiery determination. “And I will do anything to make you mine, Penelope.” His hands cupped her face, eyes boring into her. “You will never escape me.”

Fear trickled down her spine. Seeing him so desperate and passionate terrified her, because she knew it was fleeting. He didn’t love her, he only wanted to possess her. Like she was a toy. And when he was done playing with her, he would discard her and move on to someone else. No. She wouldn’t let that happen, no matter what. 

"You don’t want me to be your wife. I would ruin you." 

A small smile curved his lips. "Is that so?"

Her eyes lingered on him, taking in every inch of his beautiful face. Never would he look at her like this again and she wanted to commit everything about his adoring gaze to her memory. 

"I'm not a virgin, Colin. I have been with someone else, known another man's intimate touch." Her voice was blank, free of any emotion. "And we both know you wouldn't want a fallen woman as a wife."

Silence hung in the air. He immediately dropped his hands from her face, like he could no longer bear to touch her. His eyes burned right through her, gleaming with anger, accusation, even betrayal. 

As devastating as his response was, it wasn't a surprise. Turning around, she walked away.

[endthedream]

a sweet melody

pairing: siren!haechan x human!reader (she/her)

summary: Insanity isn’t what she expected to receive when she joined her father and his crew on an expedition, full of men who think she isn’t capable of anything. But it’s all that she got after seeing nothing but endless water every single day. Maybe that’s why her mind started imagining a strange boy who finally shows her the appreciation she deserves. Maybe that’s why she ignores the way she can’t escape the trance he puts her in whenever he sings a melody for her. Or maybe everything is real, and the boy isn’t who he pretending to be.

words: 12.5k

story colour: green

some warnings:

it’s angst, the word “killing” gets mentioned a few times but nothing happens, heavy manipulation

masterlist of ‘nct dream as super natural creatures’

August 2nd, 1878

Day 25 on sea

I don’t remember the feeling of solid ground under my feet. Grass under my toes, touching stone walls or sleeping in a soft bed that isn’t rocking from the waves crashing against the ship.

I don’t remember the taste of air that isn’t filled with salt. The taste of anything other than fish.

I don’t remember not being nauseous every day, not fighting against boredom, not having to talk to myself in order to stay sane. Having to remind myself that I am me and this expedition isn’t pointless and could possibly make us rich until the day we die.

Father told me to write down my thoughts, he senses that I’m slowly losing my mind. But how can’t I? All I see, day and night, are endless expanses of water. No land in sight. We are miles and miles away from civilization. Alone with the sea and what lays beneath it. That thought can be frightening sometimes.

My brother called me a wimp, told me I should have just stayed at home and let the men handle it. I think he is the one who is a wimp. He’s scared of the power women can hold in a world that is overpowered by men. He doesn’t want me here, thinks I belong only at home like the other women in our city. But I don’t believe that even for one second. I have so much more potential than cooking and taking care of children. I’m an explorer, an adventurer, a researcher. I belong exactly here with my brother, my father and his crew.

I am so much more than all of them point me out to be and I know I can prove exactly that to them. I can prove that women can do all things men have been doing for years, maybe even better. I will prove it, even if it makes me go insane.

August 7th, 1878

Day 30 on sea

I miss my mother. I miss her comforting words, her warm arms and the smell of her perfume. Father misses her too. We talked last night while watching the waves under the moonlit sky. He told me he thinks she is watching over us, protecting us from unknown dangers. He told me that he thinks she is proud of us, especially me, for having the courage to explore the sea. I think he is right. Mother would have loved for us to do the things she always dreamt of doing. Exploring. She always wanted to know what lays beyond the sea, know the secrets behind it and write it all down.

Mother was the creative one in our family. She wrote poems, drew beautiful paintings and crafted useful things out of our waste. There was nothing she couldn’t do, no challenge she couldn’t face. I admired her for that, looked up to her and wanted to be like her. Father says that sometimes he sees a bit of her in me, a bit of her creativity leaking out of my aura, but most of the time I am like him. A big pighead who is way too nosy for their own good. But he also said that this trait will help me on our journey.

“We need people like you.”, he spoke as he looked into the sparkling reflection of the stars on the water. “People who are brave and people who are inquisitive. People who don’t stop when it gets too much and get driven by the passion of wanting to know what lays beneath the unknown. That’s why I want you here.”

“But why did you bring my brother as well? He is nothing like that.” My comment made him let out a quiet laugh, a sound I haven’t heard from him in a while.

“Because he can fight. We need people like that as well.”

Our talk was over after that. He went to sleep, and I stayed up, watching the stars in the dark night sky and thinking about his words. Does he really want me here or is he just being nice to me because I’m his daughter? The others on the ship are not shy to express their dislike for me. I’m not taking it to heart since they care more about my gender than my capabilities. But I care about my father’s opinion. I care what he thinks about me being on this ship with him and if he thinks that I should have stayed at home like everyone else is telling me.

I hope he didn’t lie to me. I hope that his words were sincere, and he actually wants me to be here. Because I think it would shatter me if he didn’t.

I figured I should talk more about my current mental state. Every day I try not to show how much it affects me that even though there are so many people on this ship, I’m still alone. No one wants to talk to me, no one cares about my opinion, and no one wants me here. I spend most of the day watching the ocean, listening to the waves and the birds stopping by. When I see something, an animal or even just seaweed, I write it down and draw a picture of it. It helps me a bit, I think, but I’m not quite sure.

Yesterday a boy, his name is Jisung, let me help him prepare a fish. It was the first time someone had spoken to me without throwing an insult at my head. I haven’t seen him much around the ship since he spends most of the time in the kitchen with his father. But he seemed nice enough, even though as soon as another crew member approached us, Jisung ran away from me, not wanting to be seen with the “intruder”. I wasn’t offended by it, at least I got to eat a nice fish for dinner.

But I’m wandering again. My mental state. I do think I’m getting a bit… well, crazy. But who isn’t? Everyone on this ship is going through the withdrawal of feeling solid ground under their toes and seeing anything other than salt water every single day.

I think we all are slowly losing it.

August 15th, 1878

Day 38 on sea

The air was nice today. It smelled fresher than before, kind of like we entered a new world overnight.

It just felt so clean.

Maybe that’s exactly what I needed, some fresh and clear air, something that removed the mess inside of me as well. Father said that fresh air always helps with an occupied mind. I guess his thesis has been proven right.

I should listen to him more.

He is old and keeps to himself most of the time, but when he actually does talk, it has an impact. Just yesterday two of the men on the boat accidently- in a drunken manor- knocked over two wooden boxes full of fish we haunted, leaving us with not much left. Father was furious, I could tell by the look on his face, but he kept his calm image. He went up to the two men and instead of screaming, he just stared at them for a few minutes. I think his eyes were what intimated them the most.

“You realize what you just did?”, he asked them, and I never heard his voice being so cold. They just nodded their heads, eyes widened like they were deer’s getting hunted by a wolf. “You realize what that means for the two of you?” Hesitation lingered in their demeanor. Clearly, they didn’t know what consequences followed their stupid mistake.

“Since you prevented us from having a week stock of fish, I’m going to do the same to you. That means limited access to food, no alcohol anymore and you are going to clean the boat from front to back. I want to see it spotless. Are we clear?” Again, their heads nodded faster than the wind blowing my hair away. They hurried off after being dismissed, leaving me standing there as father let out a long sigh.

It must be hard, having to be in charge of a bunch of grown men who act like children. And it must be hard seeing your own children having to face some of their own hardships as well. I’m not saying my brother is having a hard time on this ship, I’m saying in general. Someone filled with that much piled up anger, like my brother, must have some troubles they can’t communicate themselves.

It’s not like I have never tried. Talking to him, I mean. I did, plenty of times. But he never listens. And he never talks. I think it is the masculinity they force upon boys these days. It starts in school when they are just little fellows and continues all the way into adult hood. It teaches them not to cry, to hide their emotions and be strong.

I think that is stupid. I think that as human beings we were created to show our emotions. It’s our darn right to let ourselves feel everything freely without having to hide it.

But my brother is taking it seriously, says that the people in school would make fun of him if he’s showing weakness. Weakness. That is stupid. I think that hiding your emotions and building up this wrong image in which you hide behind a made-up strength, is what makes you weak.

I told him that and he just said: “And that’s why you’re a woman. You wouldn’t survive a minute being a man.”

And you wouldn’t survive a minute being a woman either. But I didn’t say that. I didn’t want to make him more upset, and I especially didn’t want to start a discussion about men and women with him. It is pointless, because no matter what I say, he will never see us as equals.

I wish I were closer to my brother. I wish he wouldn’t have to think about all this stupid stuff. And I wish I could live in a world where I could freely express myself without having to justify my every move.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

August 19th, 1878

Day 42 on sea

We saw dolphins today. They were swimming right beside our ship, jumping high up into the air and whistling at us. It was a magical moment, watching them happily swim, eager to interact with us. I even got to draw a picture of them. And for a moment I forgot that my mind is constantly spinning in a spiral. I just sat there, enjoying the short moment of peace, before it got destroyed.

Some of the men on the ship, clearly drunk, threw bottles at the dolphins, slurring insulting words at them. The dolphins swam away shortly after, but the bottles stayed where they threw them, in the ocean. I was so mad that I went up to one of the men, yelling some pretty mean words as well.

“Are you out of your mind, you drunk filthy piece of shit? Not only did you hurt poor helpless animals that were clearly eager to interact with us, but you also polluted the ocean with your stupid bottles of alcohol. Are you really that messed up in your head to think this was a good idea? I don’t even get why you are on this god forsaken ship. You are clearly not good for anything other than drinking your days away and only caring about yourselves. And you call yourself a man. You are nothing but a pathetic little boy, wanting everyone’s attention. You disgust me, you pig.”

I can’t remember much afterwards, only the stinging feeling against my cheek, a foot against my rip cage and someone yelling to stop. I woke up not long ago. The ship is quiet, so I assume it’s already in the middle of the night and everyone is sleeping, but I’m too scared to look. My body hurts, every time I move only a slight bit, a crushing pain curses through my bones.

When I close my eyes, everything is spinning, so I don’t close my eyes anymore.

I don’t regret what I said to that man. I don’t regret standing up to myself. I had to endure a worse treatment for a longer time and could handle it. It is not my fault that he couldn’t handle a bit of critique. All I hope is that this pain will go away soon. The pain inside and outside.

I’ve been thinking, maybe a bit too much. What if I change my way of thinking? What if instead of letting the ocean hurt me, I will let it heal me? What if instead of letting the loneliness consume me, I will let it lead me? Maybe all I have to do to get better is to change the way I approach this expedition.

And now that I have written it down, I will have to do it. My mother always said words only count when you write them on a piece of paper. In that way it is like a contract, unbreakable. It is like an oath you swear only to yourself, and those should be the most precious ones. She said you should always keep the promises you give to yourself, because after all, at the very end you will always have yourself to count on. Mother was a wise lady. A wise and confident woman, that I always looked up to. She was never afraid to speak her mind and stand up for her beliefs, I admired that side of her so much. And I know my dad also admired that.

Sometimes I forget that he lost his wife, I forget that he is still grieving. Because it looks so easy for him. It doesn’t look like he is compulsively taken of on a ship to “explore the unknown” just to get away from home and the recuring memories of the woman he loved so dearly. It looks like he created a team of the best- that’s arguable- men out there and took of to explore. He looks like a hero, not a broken man.

He hides everything so well. I wish he would have taught me how to do that.

August 20th, 1878

Day 43 on sea

Dad told me not to move too much. He thinks my rips are badly bruised and I need a few days, maybe even a few weeks to heal. We don’t have a qualified doctor on this ship, so I am just putting ice on my ribs and hope they will magically heal.

My brother even came to my room to ask me about my well-being. That was the last thing I expected to be quite honest with you. My brother and I have never had the best relationship. He was never a reliable soul, always easily influenced by others. He is a follower not a leader and that shows in the way he behaves towards others, especially towards me.

“Are you fine?”, he asked me, voice unusually soft. I could see it in his eyes, the pity that lies in them. It looked like he actually cares.

“Forgetting the circumstances, yes, I am fine.” He let out a long and deep breath, a hand stroking back a piece of hair that fell into his eyes. I should have asked him if I should cut his hair for him.

“Okay.”, he just answered, nodding his head before standing up again. “If you need anything, just call for me.” Without looking at me again, he left the room. All I could do after that was smile. It was the first encounter since we were kids that didn’t end up with me wishing I would never have to talk to him again. He may not know how to express what he is really feeling and is scared of voicing his own thoughts, but this small conversation showed me that he may not be all too bad.

August 25th, 1878

Day 48 on sea

I am going crazy. I sit on my bed every single day. I draw, I write, and I stare at the wall.

I can feel my thoughts circle around my brain, nothing makes sense. No one visited me in the past two days, and it makes the urge to get up even worse. I didn’t really have someone to talk to from the beginning, but at least I got to be around some living beings. I didn’t have to bear my own thoughts for such a long time. Now I’m not only alone, but I’m also lonely as well.

I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt about the ship sinking. It was absurd because the men drunk too much and their bellies got so bloated, it made the ship sink. But that wasn’t the frightening part. As I tried to swim for safety, my arms already hurting, I started hearing voices. Not just two, must have been a hundred of them. All of them whispering to me, but I couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell me. I kept swimming and swimming, far behind I saw hills. The voices didn’t stop. It felt like they were entering me, taking over every part of my body. My head felt like it was about to explode into a million pieces. They got louder and louder until I couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped swimming, letting myself sink. The water engulfed my whole body, entering my mouth and filling my lungs. The voices got quieter and quieter until there was only one left, loud and clear, telling me to “wake up”.

That’s when I opened my eyes, sweat dripping from my forehead and my breath uncontrollably fast. I never had a dream like that. I never woke up so disorientated. I wanted to tell someone about this dream, have someone explain to me what the meaning behind it is. I wanted to know if I’m really losing my mind.

August 27th, 1878

Day 50 on sea

I am losing my mind.

This can’t be real. I am writing this down to make sure I am wide awake and not dreaming.

I woke up from a noise. At first, I thought I was imagining it, because lately I’ve been imagining a lot of things. I wanted to go back to sleep, being exhausted from, well, doing absolutely nothing all day long, but then I heard it again.

It wasn’t just a noise. It was a melody, a very beautiful one. It sounded like the gateway to heaven, like it was sung by angels. And it made me feel drowsy.

I knew I needed to rest more, but something about this melody pulled me in. It made me forget the throbbing pain in my body and the events that happened days before. All it made me want to do was reach it, engrave it into my skin. It made me want to never hear anything else.

I was in a trance, no thoughts inside my head anymore.

So, I got up, walked out onto the deck of the ship to find out where this melody comes from. But when I reached the deck, I didn’t expect to see a boy sitting on the railing.

But it wasn’t an ordinary boy. Oh, no. Not like the ones I’ve seen in my town growing up. I can’t describe him in any other way than captivating. His jet-black hair softly swayed in the night wind, covering his eyes every few seconds. His cheeks adopted a soft rosy color from the coldness, contrasting the tan of his skin. And his eyes were almost as dark as the night sky.

I don’t know why I stared at him for such a long time, and I don’t know why he let me.

“You’re here.” Those were his first words. The first time I heard his voice. A voice that made time stop for a moment. I couldn’t hear the waves crashing against each other anymore, or the cracking of the old wood the ship was built with. I couldn’t even hear my heartbeat pumping against my chest. All I could hear was him. “I was waiting for you.”

“Who are you?” That was not what I wanted to ask him at that moment, but the sane part of my brain must have sensed that something wasn’t right. Something about the way my body reacted to this strange man was dubious.

“Haechan.”, he spoke with a soft voice, turning his body so that he fully faced me. A smirk was placed on his lips, only intensifying his tantalizing physique. “And you are?”

“Y/n.” My name came out in a mere whisper, fearing that my voice might have broken if I spoke any louder. I couldn’t stop staring at him, still having been sure that my mind was playing a trick on me or, well, still is.

For days no one has checked in on me, no one has talked to me more than five words. I’ve been on this ship for way too long seeing nothing but the endless nothingness of the sea. My mind has been plagued with recuring thoughts, never once having a quiet moment. Maybe this is the final sign. Maybe this is it. I am insane. So insane that I’m imagining a boy sitting on the rail of the ship just so that I have someone to talk to.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Reaching one hand out, the boy signaled me to come closer to him. Every part of my body longed to take his hand and sit on the rail with him, but doubts started floating my brain.

“What are you doing here? How did you get on this ship?” Haechan, as I learned his name, just chuckled, a low sound that was so different from his honey voice. He looked amused at my asking, almost like he was making fun of me.

“Why did you come out here, Y/n?” I remember frowning at him, clearly feeling upset that he chose to ignore my question and ask one of his own. I felt upset that this boy, which I probably made up in my mind, didn’t show any respect for me at all. He, just like the others, ignores what I have to say, and I didn’t want to get treated that way, not after what happened last time.

So, instead of answering him, I turned around, heading back to my bed. But before I could even take a step, the melody I heard earlier started again. All the thoughts that I had in my mind at that moment flew away and I was, yet again, caught in a trance. It was like I couldn’t escape, even if I wanted to.

“It’s you.”, I whispered, but he still heard me. I knew that because the melody got louder, clearer. I closed my eyes, letting his voice enter every part of my body. I let it fill me up and shut me down at the same time. I let it rearrange my mind and mend my wounds, but I also let it cut me open and bleed me dry. I gave myself into the sweet penetration of his honey laced voice and wanted nothing more than to make all his wishes and desires come true. I would have given him the world if it was possible. My whole body felt like it was floating on top of a cloud, high up in the sky and there was no way of ever coming down again. I was trapped.

“Come closer.”, he murmured, voice deeper and almost impending.

“No.”, I quivered, suddenly scared of ever opening my eyes again.

“Please, Y/n.”, he pleaded, and I could nearly hear the desperation in his voice. “Just please look at me.” And so, I did. He was not sitting on the rail anymore, he was standing right in front of me. A small smile on his lips and one hand stretched out to me. “Come closer please. I don’t want anything else from you.”

And as I was about to take the step towards him, give in to his demand and the growing need inside of me to grant all his wishes, I heard a voice behind me, calling out my name and breaking the trance I was in.

“Y/n?”

Turning around, I saw my brother standing further away from me, dressed in his nightly gown. “What are you doing out of your bed? You should rest, your body isn’t fully healed yet.”

“I was just talking to…” But when I looked for Haechan again, no one was standing there anymore. It was like I was alone all along. “I don’t know what I was doing.”

Suddenly I felt all the pain rush back into my body, my bones burning with fire, and I let out a loud groan as I fell to my knees.

“Y/n.” My brother rushed towards me, helping me up with his arms around me. “For someone who always seems so smart, you really aren’t the brightest.” I couldn’t even laugh at his words, my mind was too focused on the pain all over my body.

“You must have been sleep walking if you can’t remember what you were doing up there.” My brother said as he laid me back down into my bed and reached into a bucket of water to put a wet rag on my forehead. “Sleep now, okay? I will stop by in the morning again and check on you.” All I could do was nod my head at him, exhaustion consuming my body. He looked at me one last time before he left my room again.

And now I’m sitting here, writing in my foolish dairy and reminiscing about the strange boy I met. I must have imagined him. How could anyone come up onto the ship? I didn’t see another boat, nor did any other member of the crew. And the possibility of someone appearing out of the blue is also not likely.

The only possibility that is left is that I am losing my mind. That I imagined all of it out of pure loneliness and frustration. This expedition should have been educational for me. It should have proven to all the men that I, as a woman, can do what they can do. That I can be an explorer, a brave one even, and that I have the ability to find something new. That is why we started this journey, because we wanted to discover unknown things.

But all I am doing now is proving everyone exactly what they think of me, that I am small and weak. That I am not an explorer and that I should have just stayed at home. That I am not brave and definitely not smart. I proved to them that I am fragile and well, mental.

But no one has to know about it. No one has to know what happens in my head or the things I imagine. No one has to know I am practically insane and desperate. I could just simply fake it. Isn’t that what everyone does? Faking confidence.

Maybe if I fake it long enough and convince everyone that what they are saying and thinking about me is wrong, I might convince myself as well. Maybe I can convince my brain I’m fine while pretending to be.

So, from now on, everything’s okay. I am not insane, and I certainly am not imagining weird things.

I am okay.

Everything is okay.

August 29th, 1987

Day 52 on sea

Everything is not okay.

Yesterday the boy didn’t show up again. I wasn’t exactly looking for him, since my father spent most of the night in my room making sure I wouldn’t ‘sleep-walk’ again, but I can’t lie and say I wasn’t disappointed not to hear his beautiful melody again.

I asked my dad if there is a word for the feeling of craving for someone, for feeling like the person took a part of you with them when they left and you long to be reunited with them. When all your thoughts are consumed with them, and your body is itching to be in the mere presence of that person. But also fearing the actual return of that person and the power they hold over you and your emotions. He told me it is called “withdrawal”.

“It is mostly referred to drugs such as alcohol.”, he explained to me as he tried to brush out the knots in my hair. “But I think it can be applied to humans as well. You know, sometimes we long for people we can’t have or people that aren’t good for us. We see the signs, but we ignore them. We give in to the sweet yearning and get hurt in the process. But if we don’t give in and the yearning grows stronger, we crave it even more. We think about the person every day, imagine their scent, their eyes, their voice. We imagine them being in a room with us, talking and laughing with us. We do the things that are most painful to us just to have what we long for, even if we know it’s not good for us. And it hurts, physically and emotionally.”

I turned around to look at him, inspect his face and read what he was feeling when he said those things. “It sounds like you have experience with that feeling.” My father just shrugged and at that moment he looked older. He looked like an old man who has been through too much in his life. A man who deserves a break.

“I’ve been around much longer than you, dear. There were mistakes made and hearts torn, but it all worked out at the end.”

“How?”, I ask, curious as to how such a sad feeling still turned into something good.

“Because I got you, and your brother. That’s my happy ending.” I wanted to cry. I wanted to storm into his arms and never let him go. But I didn’t do any of those things. I just smiled at him, nodded my head and hoped that was enough for him. Because while his words filled my heart to the brim with love, my body still ached, not from the pain but for the boy I only met once in my life.

That’s why I tried to ignore the melody a few hours ago when it started again. Father went back to his bed a few minutes before, wanting to get some well-deserved sleep, leaving me alone in my room. I, as well, wanted to get some rest, but then I heard it. It was loud and clear, and more beautiful than I had remembered it to be. Almost immediately I felt my whole mind switch, forgetting the conversation I had had with my father. All that was in my head was him, Haechan.

I wanted to see him, no, I needed to see him. I felt lost without him, so empty and incomplete. I felt like my world wasn’t spinning correctly, time was going backwards, and the stars were falling out of the sky. Nothing felt right anymore. Not until I was with him.

I reached my door, but before I could open it something woke me up. Not from a dream, but from a trance. A smell, a very familiar one. It took up all my senses and brought me back to reality.

I realized what I was about to do and quickly sat back down on my bed, not daring to even set a foot on the floor anymore. It was frightening, what I felt just then. The longing I felt, just from one simple melody. I don’t know this boy, why would I feel so strongly about him? Why does he have so much power over my emotions?

His melody got louder. For a moment my head felt like it was exploding. He sounded sad, sorrowful. It broke my heart into pieces hearing him so vulnerable, longing for me the same way I was longing for him. But I didn’t give in. A part of me, I don’t know which one, knew it was wrong to see him again. So, I stayed on my bed, legs tightly pressed against my chest and my hands on my ears, trying to cover his despairing voice.

10 minutes ago, it stopped. It just went away, like it was never there in the first place. Curiosity almost got the best of me and wanted to check if he really left, but I was too scared, I still am.

I don’t know what he is doing to be, why he is here and why he is targeting me. But I know that whatever he is doing, it can’t be with good intentions. A person that makes another person feel such outrageous things, can’t be here for anything good.

Maybe it shouldn’t matter so much. Because, after all, I made him up. He isn’t real so whatever he is doing isn’t going to hurt me. I think my mind is reflecting this pain on me to make sense of why it’s slowly decapitating. It’s trying to distract me from the actual damage in my brain.

At least that is the only logical answer to all of this. Because anything other would be, well, crazy and I’m not crazy. I might lose my mind, but I am not crazy.

August 30th, 1878

Day 53 on sea

Maybe I am a bit crazy, and reckless, and irresponsible and plain stupid.

“You left me standing here for a long time yesterday. I missed you, darling.” But I couldn’t help myself but visibly relaxing as I heard his voice again.

It was all I could think about all day long. Him and his melody. I wanted to feel it again. Feel it in my veins, feel it shutting out all the thoughts in my head. I just wanted this bothering craving to go away. I think it got so bad that even Jisung, someone who barely talks to me, noticed it.

“Are you okay? Don’t you like the food?”, he asked as he watched me stare at the food in front of me.

“Oh, sorry. It’s not the food, don’t worry. I just didn’t get much sleep last night.” I gave him a little smile, grabbing a fork and shoving some food in my mouth.

“Is there a reason behind it? I hope it wasn’t me.” Jisung looked a bit guilty as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I spent the whole night cooking because I also couldn’t sleep. I hope I wasn’t too loud and kept you awake.”

“Oh, so that was what I smelled yesterday.” Internally, I couldn’t help but to be grateful for the boy sitting in front of me. After all, was he the reason why I didn’t give in to see Haechan. But I couldn’t tell him that. I was already glad someone decided to speak to me, I didn’t want to ruin it by my insanity. “But no, that was not what kept me up. I mean I smelled it, but I just had too much going on inside my mind to rest.”

The boy just nodded his head, shoving a fork full of food in his mouth. “Care to share some of your thoughts?”, he says with his mouth still full of food. He looked like a child in that moment, with his eyes wide and his mouth dirty with crumps.

“Just thinking a lot more about my mother lately.”, I told him, only half lying. Mother has been on my mind a lot lately, but that obviously wasn’t the reason why I couldn’t sleep. “I miss her. I mean I always miss her, but being so far away from home just makes me miss her more. You know, I see her everywhere. In the books I read, the words I write. I see her in the ocean, feel her in the air and smell her in every scent. It’s bizarre.”

“No, it’s not.”, Jisung disagreed, putting his fork down and propping his elbow up on the table to lean his face on his hand. “I miss my mother too. I mean, she isn’t dead, but her and my father are no longer together. She left with my sister, my father kept me, and I haven’t seen her in three years. I miss her too sometimes. But I think I miss the things she did for me more than I miss her. When I was a child, I always had trouble falling asleep so she would always tell me a bedtime story. I think that is why some nights I can’t seem to fall asleep.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Jisung. Next time you have trouble sleeping just get me. I can also tell you bedtime stories.”

He nodded yet again, showing me another one of his smiles. “Thank you, Y/n. And you know what? I think you are really brave. I wanted to say that to you earlier, but I never had the guts to actually do. I think that we can all be grateful that someone like you joined this expedition. We really need more smart crewmates on this ship.”

But I don’t think I am that smart anymore. I don’t think I even deserve to be called smart anymore. Because every single thing about the decisions I make is anything other than smart. And as I looked into the deep brown eyes of the boy in front of me, that only got confirmed.

“No answer? No ‘I missed you too’?” His voice had an alluring tone, soothing all the wounds inside me and doing things to my body I am too embarrassed to admit. “What a shame, sweet girl. I was pretty sure I could sense your longing for me yesterday. Maybe I was wrong.”

I didn’t know what to answer. And I honestly am glad I didn’t, positive that my voice would have come out in nothing but a pathetic whisper. Haechan was walking closer to me again, reaching his hand out again to hover over the skin of my arm but never touching me.

“Can you feel that?”, he whispers, eyes never leaving mine. “Can you feel the goosebumps slowly forming on your skin, the shiver down your spin?” He waited for me to answer him, but all I could do was nod. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes.” I answered him, voice cracking with that one simple word. “Yes, I can feel that.”

“Good. That is exactly what I want you to feel.” He took a few steps back again, so he was leaning against the railing. “Why did you decide to come here tonight? Couldn’t get enough of me?”

I just shrugged my shoulders, not really knowing myself what the actual reason behind me coming to see him again was. “Why do you keep calling for me?”

“Calling for you? How exactly am I calling for you?” Cocking his head to the side, still wearing a smirk on his lips. But I don’t want to get too detailed about his face, still feeling a bit embarrassed of the things I felt in that moment.

“The melody your singing, it’s for me. You are calling me with your melody.” A chuckle left his lips, melodic like his voice.

“How can you be so sure of that? What if I just like to sing pretty melodies?” His question sounded so innocent and for a moment I was uncertain about my statement, fearing I might have misinterpreted everything. But I knew what I was feeling. I knew that his melody was meant to be for me and no one else. I know it might sound crazy, but the thought of him singing this melody, my melody, for someone else felt unsettling.

“Because if you sung it for someone else, they would stand here instead of me. No one else is responding to your melody, only me, so it must be for me.” For a few seconds there was nothing but silence around us. Haechan wasn’t saying a thing, seeming like he was thinking about his next words. And I didn’t say anything, fearing that if I might, he would disappear again.

“You’re right.”, he finally spoke up. “It is for you.”

“But why? Why do you sing this melody for me?”

“Because I wanted to meet you, Y/n. From the moment I first saw you, I knew I got to have you. I got to be with you. I craved nothing more than to talk to you, to simply be blessed to be in the mere presence of you. I am longing for you, the same way you are longing for me, my love.” I couldn’t believe what he was saying to me. His words filled up my heart, and I started feeling lightheaded.

He was craving for me. He wanted to meet me. Everything that I am feeling towards him, as strange as those emotions are, he is feeling for me as well. His words were the most beautiful, heart wrenching thing I have ever heard in my inter life. I felt lucky to be seen this way, to be wanted this way, never actually having had someone tell me that before.

He really went all this way, just to meet me. Singing this melody, coming up this ship. But isn’t it a bit strange as well? I remembered not seeing another ship anywhere nearby. Where did he come from? How did he see me? Questions started filling my mind again, shaking me awake.

“What did you mean when you said you wanted to meet me from the first time you saw me? When did you see me?” I could see his body tensing up. Maybe he wasn’t expecting such a question.

“I can answer your question, but first you have to come with me. Please, Y/n. I will tell you everything, just please come with me. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”

“Haechan.” I looked at his hand, which was reaching for me again, motioning me to take it in mind. “Where do you want to take me? I mean there is no other ship anywhere near.”

“Y/n, just trust me, okay? Come with me and I will make the thoughts in your head disappear. I will make everything heal for you.” His hands hovered over my arms again, almost as if he couldn’t touch me. I wanted him to. I wanted him to touch me so badly. But I could see that something in his eyes had changed. They were darker, more desperate and demanding, and I knew it was my time to leave.

“I can’t.”, I told him, taking a few steps back. “I have to get up early tomorrow.” And with that I left, not once looking back as I walked back into my room.

I don’t know if what I did was right, or if I upset him with my behavior.

All I hope for is that he isn’t mad at me and will forgive me when he comes back. If he comes back.

August 31st, 1878

Day 54 on sea

He did in fact come back.

“Missed me?” There was something more gentle in the way he was talking to me today. Something more reserved.

“What if I did?” That made him smile, not smirk like he normally does. Haechan showed me a bright honest smile. And all I could think about was that he never looked more ethereal than in that moment.

“Then I will be highly pleased, my love. You know why?” I shook my head as a no, waiting for him to continue his sentence. “Because I missed you too?”

“You did?”

“Of course, I did. You were all I could think about all day long, pretty girl.” He stayed a bit further away from me too today and I wondered why. I asked myself if he didn’t want to be close to me again or if he felt rejected after what happened yesterday. “I couldn’t stop thinking about your sweet smile, your beautiful eyes and your lovely voice. I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

“Why don’t you touch me?”, I said out of the blue, catching not only myself, but him off guard as well. “You never touch me. You only hover your hands above my skin. Why?”

He smiled again, sweet and kind. “Because if I touch you once, I will never be able to stop again.”

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” He only shook his head, turning around to face the stars instead of me. But I didn’t want him to look away, I wanted him to look at me, because when he does look at me, I can feel again.

“I am sorry about yesterday, you know? I am sorry I was too intrusive, I let myself get caught up in my emotions.” I had to process his words, that being the last thing I thought would come out of his mouth. Never once had a men apologized to me for anything. I am so used to getting treated like nothing and it being normal in a society like the one I grew up with. Never once has anyone cared so much about me to consider my emotions and apologize for a mistake.

“Thank you.”, I just whispered, trying to swallow the tears. “That means a lot to me.” I decided to join him at the rail, watch the stars with him for a little while.

“Do you know that I think you are not real? I think I am imagining you, because for the past weeks I have been slowly losing my mind. Seeing the same things every day, not talking to anyone and having to deal with all those thoughts in my head. I think I started imagining you so I could just stop time for a while.”

“But I am real.”, he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I am real. You are not insane, and you are definitely not imagining me. I can prove that to you. Just take my hand and you will see.”

“Why does that feel like a trap?”, I asked him, watching his face, trying to read his emotions. But it stayed the same. His smile didn’t butch for a second and his eyes still held the same gentleness.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Y/n. There is no trap. I am just offering you evidence to your lingering questions about your own sanity. I am just trying to be nice to you, but if you don’t appreciate that.”

“No, no I do. I am grateful for your kindness. You just sounded so demanding, and it made me doubtful.”

“I am so sorry, my sweet girl. It was never my intention to make you doubt me. That will never happen again, okay? All I want is the best for you. Nothing more.” I just nodded, eyes facing the wooden floor of the ship. “I am going to tell you the story of why I so desperately wanted to talk to you, since I didn’t yesterday. Maybe that will cheer you up a bit again.”

“I wanted to talk to you because I was mesmerized by you. Because there are not a lot of people out there like you. People so willing to learn and to explore. I never met a woman like you, someone so strong minded and independent. I loved how you never let anyone talk bad to you and I love how despite the negative things the men on this ship say about you, you still stay here. You prove to them every day that you are capable of being on such an expedition and that you are more qualified than they could ever be. And I just knew I had to talk to you, I had to have you in my life.”

And it was like he knew what I needed to hear. Like he knew my deepest darkest thoughts and all the things I was craving to ever be told by someone. It was like he spoke right into my soul and built up this newfound strength. I felt empowered, I felt loved. But yet again, I was also wondering how he could know all those things about me.

“Why do you know all that, Haechan?”

“I told you already, Y/n. I was longing for you.” It didn’t make sense. His answer didn’t make any sense. Was he avoiding my question? Or maybe he understood the question wrong, thinking this was an answer that would satisfy me. But it didn’t.

“That doesn’t answer my question. How can you possibly know about all those? We just met.”

I could hear a sigh leaving his lips, the long and frustrated kind. I am familiar with those, having heard them a thousand times from my father and brother. And I asked myself if I, yet again, upset him with my question. If I should have just kept quiet and appreciated his kind words and moved on from the topic.

“And yet again you don’t appreciate my kindness. All I do is be nice to you, proving to you that I am real and trustworthy, and you still doubt me. Don’t you know how much that hurts me? Do you?” His voice rose visibly, nostrils flaring and eyes growing wider. Haechan wasn’t looking like himself at that moment. He almost looked inhumane.

“I am sorry, Haechan. Please don’t say that. I do trust you. Please, I’m sorry.”, I started begging him, reaching for his hand, which he pulled away. “Please.” Tears filled my eyes and my whole body started hurting again, like it was slowly breaking apart from the inside out.

“You hurt me, Y/n. I don’t think your apology can fix this.”

And this time it was him walking away, disappearing into the darkness, and leaving me standing at the same spot, mourning for him like I had just lost a person to death.

September 1st, 1878

Day 55 on sea

I could see the surprise on his face when he saw me standing there, waiting for him this time, not needing his melody to be called. But the look of surprise quickly faded away and a smirk replaced it instead.

“I see you don’t even need my melody anymore.” It almost sounded cocky the way he said it.

“I wanted to be here first so I could apologize to you.”, I spoke the words with so much sincerity, wanting him to believe me and see that I genuinely mean the apology. “I am really sorry for hurting your feelings yesterday. It was never my intention. All I want to do is make you happy, Haechan, and I am so sorry that I failed to do so.”

He looked at me for a few seconds, brows raised, before he shrugged his shoulders. “What will you do if I don’t accept your apology?”

I didn’t hesitate when I spoke my next words. “I will beg for your forgiveness. I will beg until you accept my apology. I will do anything you want me to.”

“Anything I want you to?”, he asked, and I just nodded my head at him, desperation fulling my actions and probably written all over my face. “I will hold onto that one.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?” Haechan shrugged again, taking a few steps forward into my direction. Looking at him in that moment, I didn’t think he looked hurt. Normally people have this look on their face when their feelings got hurt, quivering lips, wide and sad eyes, body folding in on itself. But Haechans eyes were almost narrowed, and he was towering over me, almost like he was looking down at me. My father once told me people do that to prove their dominance over the other person, but I don’t think that was what Haechan wanted to do in that moment. Or was it?

Maybe Haechan is just like my brother, a person who has to hide their true feelings behind a stone-cold face to demonstrate strength. Or maybe he just didn’t want me to see him hurt by me to make me feel less guilty. Because I was and still am feeling bad for making him feel that way yesterday. I still regret my words and wish I would have just shut my mouth. I should do that more often, shutting my mouth in some situations. It would have saved me from a lot of things.

“I’m still thinking about it. Maybe I will tell you my answer at the end of the night.” That gave me some hope. Even though he didn’t yet accept my apology, he still wanted to spend time with me and that was more than enough for me.

“I saw you talking to that Jisung guy again today.” Haechan was still towering over me, hands in the pockets of his pants and eyes narrowing in on my face. “What is so intriguing about him that you talk so much to him?”

“Did you watch me?”, I asked him, shock lacing my voice. Jisung and I only talked in the kitchen today. I was hungry since I overslept in the morning and didn’t have breakfast. When I walked into the kitchen to grab myself something, Jisung was standing there, preparing the fish for dinner. We spent some time together, me eating my food and him cooking more. There wasn’t a lot of conversation, we just basked in the presence of each other.

“I asked you a question first.”, Haechan voice got lower again. I could only describe it as sinister. There was an undertone in that one small sentence, something that told me I should not say the wrong thing. So, I took a moment to gather my thoughts, fight through the mess in my head and find an answer that will satisfy him.

“He isn’t interesting to me.”, I tell him, keeping my voice clear and loud. “He is just the only person that talks to me when you aren’t here. There is nothing more to it.”

“It didn’t look like that earlier, sweetheart. I thought the two of you looked very cozy in that kitchen, sneaking glances at each other.” He let out a sound similar to a ‘tsk’ and shook his head in a mocking manner. “Am I not enough for you anymore? Do you go around and search for other men when I’m not around? Are you so desperate and needy for attention?”

“No.”, I whispered, feeling even the small last bit of confidence leaving my body. Haechan has a way of making me feel weaker and weaker, draining every last thought out of my head and making my body his. “No, Haechan.”

I felt my legs give him, sinking to my knees. My body felt so heavy but at the same time so light. Haechan kneeled down in front of me, lowering his head so he was looking right into my eyes. “You can’t talk to other men, Y/n. You are mine only, do you understand?” All I could do was nod my head at him, but that didn’t satisfy him. “You belong to me, right, my sweet girl? I need you to say it.”

“I belong to you.”, I mumbled, not having the strength to fully open my mouth.

“That is right. You belong to me, your body belongs to me and even your mind belongs to me. You are all mine, pretty princess.” He took up all my senses. I could only see him, smell him, hear him, feel him everywhere. Like only he excited in this world and no one else.

Haechan leaned forward, his lips brushing the skin of my ear. I could feel his warm breath on my skin, and it sent shivers down my back. “Now come with me, darling. Take my hand and come with me. I will make sure you remember me forever.”

I reached for his hand, fingers brushing against each other, but before I could close them around his, a bright light shined a bit further away from us. Everything happened so fast after that. I heard footsteps, a voice and suddenly I felt empty. Haechan was no longer kneeling in front of me and right as I wanted to look for him, my body gave in, and I fainted onto the cold wooden floor.

I don’t know how I got into my bed, and I don’t know who brought me into my bed. All I know is that the moment I woke up again I craved Haechan even more than I did before and I know that the next time he asks me to come with him, I will do so, without any hesitation.

September 2nd, 1878

Day 56 on sea

Everything changed today. Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I felt. A lie.

I can’t stop crying. My tears are flowing like an endless waterfall. I’m a mess, a disaster. How could I let this all happen? I thought I was smarter than this. I thought I was stronger than this. But I was blinded. I was corrupted, manipulated, used.

I feel dirty, like I haven’t washed in weeks. But I just did. I spent a long time trying to scrub away the dirt I felt, trying to scrub away the shame I felt. I put everyone, especially me, in danger with my reckless behavior, with my blindness, with my incompetence. I am a failure.

I spent the whole day ignoring everyone around me, not even looking at anyone that passed me by. I wanted to desperately prove to Haechan that I only want him and no one else, that everyone on this ship doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is him. I was hoping he was watching me again, being proud of me.

But unfortunately, there was one person I couldn’t avoid even if I tried to.

“You wanted to speak to me, father.”, I said as I entered my father’s office room. I have never been in that room, not once over all these weeks. The room was scattered in books, empty bottles and maps of the sea. I always imagined the room to be neater, at least that was what my father always seemed to be. But my mother told me once that your room reflects the mental state you were in. Maybe my father was also struggling with his sanity.

“Yes.”, he answered me, looking up from his book. “I wanted to see how you are feeling, after your little incident yesterday.”

“I’m feeling fine, father. Must have been me sleep walking again. There is nothing to worry about.”

He just hummed, his face showing the uncertainty he felt because of my words. My father mustered me for a few seconds, waiting for even a little muscle to twitch in my face to show him if I was lying. But I kept a straight face, looking him right into the eyes. “I am thrilled to hear that. And we will find a way to fix your nightly problem.”

Father went back to reading in his book, and even though I knew I shouldn’t, the curious part of me wondered what he was so engrossed in. I always loved the books my father reads, knowing that they are filled with new knowledge. “What are you reading?”

He held up the book, showing me the cover. “Knowledge about the mysteries of the ocean.”, I read out loud, furrowing my eyebrows at the title. What an odd book, I have never heard about that. “What mysteries are listed in the book?”

“Oh, just some fisher men tales. Mermaids, kraken, leviathan, sirens. All those tales which warn everyone on ships about the dangers of the sea.”

“Sirens? I have never heard of them. What are they?” My father turned his book around, showing me the page, he was just reading. On it was a drawn picture of what looked to be a half bird, half fish creature. My stomach started to turn, the longer I looked at it, frightened by its appearance.

“This book says that sirens are mythical creatures, half bird, half fish. Through their angelic singing they lure in fishermen to kill them. It is said that their voice lures them in, but their face is what makes the fishermen stay.”

“Their face?”, I asked, not believing that for a second.

“They put you in a trance with their voice and make you see whoever you most desire. They are insidious, malicious creatures, feared by everyone who ever entered the ocean. They are dangerous, Y/n.” He looked me in the eyes, as if he knew something I didn’t. As if he wanted to tell me more with the last sentence.

“Do you really believe they exist? To me that just sounds like fishermen making up excuses as to why they didn’t bring any fish home.”

My father let out a long sigh, head shaking. He turned the book back to him and stared at the picture for a few more seconds, before closing the book again. “You could be right, Y/n. I mean you have always been the realistic one in this family. But as long as there is no proof that they don’t exist, I will have to believe those tales. It’s better to believe and find out they don’t exist, than to not believe and find out they do exist.”

I couldn’t stop thinking about his words after I left his office. They kept spinning around my head, swirling and clashing against other thoughts. And they were connecting. My thoughts were connecting together, and suddenly there was only one thought left. One person in my mind, and not for the reasons he had been in my mind for the past few days.

But I didn’t want to admit that. Not even to myself. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t true. Those useless tales were nothing but fiction, made up stories to save the fishermen from embarrassment and disappointment. Nothing more and nothing less.

Because I knew Haechan. I knew he wasn’t capable of something like that. He wasn’t a creature designed to prey on innocent people. Or was he?

I couldn’t help but smile as I heard the familiar melody, as I felt it sink deep under my skin and erase everything inside of me. I loved the pain it inflicted on my heart, the way the melody ripped me apart into a million pieces. I loved how for the first few seconds everything stopped being important to me. Breathing, feeling, living. Nothing felt important for a few seconds. Nothing but him.

Haechan leant against the rail of the ship, hands in his trousers and a smirk on his lips. It almost felt like a déjà-vu. I remembered how I felt when I first saw him. Feelings that were once so innocent and unfamiliar are now unconditional and fierce. “My pretty girl.”, he whispered, and I felt the weight on my shoulders lift. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”, I asked, taking a few steps closer to him. I was craving his closeness, his touch. I needed him to touch me, anywhere. I didn’t mind where.

“Ready to come with me.” My head was clouded, brainwashed by his beautiful voice. But wasn’t that exactly what my father told me, what he warned me about. “I can see your doubt in me, sweetheart. What is it that is plaguing your beautiful mind?”

“Do you plan on killing me?” I don’t know why I asked him that question. I don’t know how I got the strength to break out of the haze, even just a little bit.

“Killing you? Why would I kill you?” His eyes darkened and I could see his body language changing. I could see all of him changing. Haechan let out a chuckle before walking into my direction, stopping when he was right behind me. Brushing my hair back, never once touching me, as he leant down to whisper into my ear.

“I really wanted to kill you at first, my sweet girl. I wanted nothing else but to rip you apart.” My body shut down, letting me fall weakly to my knees just like the day before. I couldn’t keep my eyes open for more than five seconds. Haechan kneeled down in front of me, yet again and placed his hand on my cheek. Finally, I could feel him. I could feel the one thing I craved most, his touch. But it didn’t feel how I imagined it to. Instead of lifting me up and making me basked in comfort, it made me flinch. His touch made me want to never see the light of day ever again. “But how could I kill such a beautiful thing? You are my precious girl, aren’t you? So sweet and special.”

I wanted to run, get away from him. I wanted to do anything but to stay with him, but my body didn’t let me. My body stayed down on the ground, heavy and useless. “Does it hurt, love? Does my touch and my words hurt you?” He didn’t need an answer because he knew. He knew how every bone in my body felt like it was on fire as soon as he muttered those words. He knew all I wanted was to make this growing pain stop. “Just come with me. I will make the pain stop.”

When I looked up at him, I saw only a glimpse of him. His skin was pale blue, scales all over it, and his teeth were sharp and long. This wasn’t the boy I met a few nights ago, the boy who made me feel like I was floating on the clouds and the boy who gave me a reason to live. This was a creature, a monster. A siren.

“Go away.”, I croaked out with the last strength I had left in my body.

“Oh no, you poor thing. Don’t be like that.” Not even his voice sounded like the sweet melody I once heard. It didn’t give me sweet pleasure anymore, it only gave me pain. “You love me, or have you forgotten? Have you forgotten all the feelings I inflicted on you? Have you forgotten how good you felt when you were with me? I can make that come back. You just have to come with me.”

“Go to hell.” I didn’t know that this simple sentence could mean the end of my life because the next thing I felt was a sharpness going through my body. And I knew this would be it. This would be the last few seconds before I was gone.

“Y/n!”, I heard someone shout, loud and piercing. I opened my eyes, only to have my vision be blurry. I tried to move, look who that voice belonged to and if I was imagining it again. “Go away and never come back, or I will have you killed and each and everyone of you creatures on this planet.”

I took a hurtful breath and it felt as if my lungs were filled with broken pieces of glass. My eyes tried to stay open, but I didn’t have the strength. “No, Y/n. Stay awake. Please don’t leave me.”

Whiteness surrounded me, filling me up and taking me in. Silence. I heard nothing more than silence. I tried looking around, kicking and fighting as I was trapped in nothing but endless vastness. Far away from me I could see something, or someone waiting for me. I tried to walk towards it, reaching my arms out to grab it, but I never came close.

“It’s not your time yet, Y/n.” And before I could question those words, my eyes opened.

It took me a few seconds to regain my vision, seeing the familiar walls of my room. As I remembered just what had happened, I felt panic filling my body, my breaths coming out faster than normal and my mind spiraling in wild circles.

“It’s okay, Y/n.”, I heard the voice of my father first before I felt his arms around my body, pulling me tightly into him. “Your safe. Nothing can hurt you anymore.”

I looked up at him with wide eyes and my mouth agape. I felt like a little kid again, crying in the arms of my father after having a bad dream. Just that this wasn’t a dream. This is reality.  

“It’s okay. We are on our way back home. That creature will never find you again, we made sure of that, okay?” My father held me with so much delicacy, fearing he might break me. “You’re safe. I won’t let anyone, or anything hurt you again.”

And I believed him. There in the arms of my father I believed his words. So, I closed my eyes, let the sleep consume me and hoped that this promise would be one he could keep.

September 10th, 1878

Day 64 on sea

I let the salt air take away all the scars of the past weeks as I watched the soft waves flow under the setting sun. This was the first time in eight days that I had the courage to leave my room. I couldn’t face the place where everything happened. The place where I almost lost myself.

I closed my eyes and imagined the soft grass under my toes, the chirping birds in my ear and the blinding sunlight in my eyes. I imagined biting into a sweet apple, feeling the fresh morning air on my skin and smiling at the veracity of the moment.

“Daydreaming again?”, I heard a voice in front of me, making an actual smile appear on my lips. A smile I haven’t let myself show in a long time.

“What brings you out here? Shouldn’t you be in your bed, sleeping like everyone else is?” Jisung just shrugged his shoulders, his hair softly swaying in the wind.

He showed me a sweet smile, sitting down beside me and taking one of my hands in his. “I am not going to ask you how are doing, since everyone else does that every day.” I nodded at him, grateful for not hearing the repeating question out of his mouth as well. “But I am going to ask you if you still feel the withdrawal, you told me about.”

My eyes filled with tears again and I tried my best to swallow them down. “Yes.”, I mumbled, looking down, too ashamed to let him see me this way. To let him see me so weak and pathetic. “Yes, I still feel it, every day. I long for him, and I know it isn’t right. He isn’t who he showed me to be. I know I was blinded by a trance. I was blinded by need. I know what I am feeling isn’t right and that he wasn’t right. But for a few seconds, for a few seconds every day, it felt real. For a few seconds every day I could just be. I could be me. I could forget the pain and my thoughts, and I could breathe.”

Jisung just nodded his head, not letting go of my hand, but he didn’t say a word. I appreciated that. I appreciated the quietness of him. Because as opposed to the others, he didn’t lecture me on my feelings. He didn’t tell me how it is wrong to feel the way I do and how I should have seen all this coming. He didn’t try to tell me how to move past this, or how to continue living my life. Jisung just stayed silent.

“Why are you awake?”, I asked him after a few moments, breaking the silence he gifted me.

“I couldn’t sleep. And the last time I told you about my sleeping problems, you told me you could tell me a story, like my mother did. A bedtime story to make me fall asleep.” I let the tears that still lingered in my eyes roll down my cold cheeks, as I nodded my head. “Will you tell me one?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I will tell you any story you want.”

And so, I did.

I told everyone my story.

Bonus

“What took you so long?”

Haechan swam into the cave, brushing past everyone that was looking at him with expecting eyes. He ignored them all and just kept swimming.

“Answer my question.”, Jeno spoke louder this time, but Haechan just kept swimming. He didn’t care that everyone was waiting for him, waiting for him to fulfill his promise, to fulfill all the promises he had made for the past weeks.

“We had a fight.”, he told Jeno with a shrug of his shoulders, nonchalant about the other one’s questions. Haechan could see the disappointment and anger in the faces of everyone in the cave, and he couldn’t care less. He knew what he was doing was right. He knew it was necessary to go through all these lengths to get what he wanted, what everyone wanted.

“A fight?”, his friend repeated, skeptic lingering in his voice. “This isn’t a game, Haechan. We put our trust and time in your hands. How long until this plan of yours backfires? How long until they notice that their ship hasn’t been moving in days? How long until they discover us and put an end us?”

“Jeno.”, Haechan’s eyes piercing into the older boy, voice clearly stating a warning. “Have you lost all your trust in me? I know what I am doing.”

“Are you?” Everyone was looking at the two, anticipating the outcome of this long-awaited conversation. “You were the one promising us you were going to get us this girl. You were the one convincing us how much you were craving her and how much we should as well. And we have given you time, but all you do is play around. This isn’t a game, Haechan. This will determine our lives. Without her, we will not survive, and you are very well aware of that.”

“This is where you are wrong, my dear friend.” Haechan turned his body, facing all the sirens watching him. “This is a game, and I am the leader of it. This girl we are talking about is different from everyone we have ever had. This one is special. She isn’t easily fooled by my tricks, by my voice. She has a smart mind, that one.” A wide grin appeared on the siren’s lips, making him almost look crazy, and his eyes narrowed on his friend yet again. “This one will bring us everything we have ever dreamt of. And it will work. The game I am playing, the fight we were having today, it will all work in the end.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” The question lingered in the quiet of the cave, the eyes of everyone looking at Haechan, faith and trust all in his hands.

“Because it is all going according to plan.”, he announced, voice thick with pride and confidence. “It is all going according to my plan.”

[celticcrossanon]

Hello Celta, it may sound a mean and an unpopular opinion. But I’m wondering if Charles is using his cancer diagnosis to push for certain outcomes he’s desired all along.

Firstly, it’s been discussed and you’ve seen in your cards that Charles wanted Camilla to co-rule with him, and he was not able to make it happen at the coronation. Now with his cancer diagnosis he seems to be pushing Camilla to “lead” the family. Witness yesterday’s service which looked like a huge PR disaster where Andrew and Sarah came out ahead of everyone else. It’s not a good look, I doubt Charles was aiming for that outcome (more on that below). Next up, there’s a rumour or it’s been announced that Camilla will be leading The Commonwealth Service in March. If that’s true, he’s putting Camilla ahead of the heir, his own son. Very Game of Thrones. Then there’s all this PR is about Camilla saving the monarchy. He seems to be deliberately pushing for Camilla to stand in for him through all this, while William is right there. And then his press will turn around and say, William is unwilling or reluctant or flat out doesn’t want to step up. It’s Machiavellian.

Secondly, I believe Charles was hoping for the money shot of William walking slightly ahead of Andrew out of the service yesterday. It seems that’s what he was hoping for. So that when the talk of Harry coming back ramps up again, as it will inevitably, he could through his PR turn around and say, hey, you’ve no trouble accepting Andrew back, look at these photos of you and him together, why not Harry? We saw the photos of the Wales in the car with Andrew, dint you think he’s capable of manipulating further opportunities? He’ll say Don’t you now I’m sick with cancer? Why can’t you make my last remaining years peaceful by giving me what I want? Namely my snake of a son, with or without his snake wife, at my side with my dying breath?

Thirdly, he’s using his cancer for positive PR, he’s enjoying the bump up in popularity since his diagnosis and wats it to continue. All those photos of him reading get well cards, and getting tearful about it. It makes him a sympathetic figure and he’s milking it. It’s despicable and low down. Him greeting the PM Sunack and saying oh all these cards and letters, awwww they bring me to tears. Can you ever imagine a sovereign such as HTMQ making such a statement to a politician??? I know she’s from a different generation, but my goodness. Our late queen had a dignity no one can deny. She bore her trails with such stoicism, and reserved her tears for when she was alone or with family. It’s makes me so angry to see him portray himself weak and vulnerable simply for the despicable way he treated Diana. Where was his empathy and thoughtfulness when he was dealing with a much younger wife and mother? He was busy plotting and planning with Camilla to show this side to Diana. Seems he only reserves the right to feel sorry for himself and no one else. Instead of me seeing him as sympathetic, I see cunning and manipulation. What a manipulative a-hole.

Wow that took a turn I did not expect, but while I’m sorry he’s got a disease he’s dealing with, he should not be using it to further denigrate his heir, and manipulate others into giving him what he truly wants. I fear that’s what Charles is doing.

Hi Anonymous Retired,

I am posting this before it vanishes on me again and I will come back and edit with my reply.

I would not put it past the King to use his cancer diagnosis to further his own agendas, unfortunately. I don't like saying that but after my past two readings I would not put anything past him.

I can see the King using this to push the Queen into a role that is fitting for a co-ruler and not a Queen Consort (which is the same role that Prince Philip occupied as Prince Consort). What complicates it for me is that while Prince William is right there, he is also dealing with his wife recovering from surgery and having to be there for his three young children. So yes, I can see the pushing of Camilla, but I am also grateful for it in a way as it frees up Prince William to be with his family more than if he was standing in for the King. The crunch will come when Princess Catherine is recovered and Prince William is back to full time royal duties. If the King is still unwell as this stage, as I expect he will be, then the proper thing to do would be for the Queen Consort to take a step backwards and the The Prince of Wales to step in for The King. I can't see that happening, but I could be surprised.

You were spot on about the money shot, as per my reading of today. I also believe that King Charles would use emotional manipulation like you suggest, as we have seen him do it before. This time, I think that William will stand up to him and say No, which will be hard to do but very much worth it in the end.

I think that so far the King remarking on the cards and showing the video of himself reading them has been nice. Those are the only two pieces of PR I have seen. If I see more, or if the illness card is played in articles for sympathy, then I will absolutely think he is suing his diagnosis for good PR. As you said, I think the King reserves his sympathy for himself and perhaps for people that he currently likes (I could be wrong about this). He certainly is not showing the dignity that was such a characteristic of Her Late Majesty, in my opinion anyway. It could just be that he doesn't want to be as stoic as his mother, or that he is trying to show his appreciation, or something. I am more than usually annoyed at him at the moment so I'm not the best person to ask. :)

The King should not be using his disease as a manipulation tactic, I agree. Unfortunately, people do it all the time, from the sick child asking for extra ice cream 'because they are sick' upwards. All you can do is recognise it and do your best not to let it influence your judgement of the matter. It is unbecoming of the monarch to behave in such a manner (and I am still undecided as to whether he is doing this consciously or not), but if he decides to act like that people will see through it eventually and then he will face the consequences.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

60s Mindbreak:

I imagine Velvette would still be capable of extending empathy to people outside her friend group (since she doesn’t have Vox and Val encouraging her to lose her humanity). 

[She does fantasize of killing Niffty and usurping her title as The Fashion Overlord though, but I don’t think this Velvette is hardened enough to kill anyone.]

Niffty forces all her employees to wear exclusively 50s fashion, Velvette despises this! 

Would Velvette try out the Hotel and be a guest alongside Angel Dust? (Unless Val is dead and Angel’s doing Hell knows what.)

The friend group of Velvette, Angel Dust, and Cherri Bomb sounds kinda fun. 

-=-=-=-

Another way to interpret this is as a roleswap:

For whatever reason Alastor doesn’t target Husk, so Husk gets to keep being the Gambling Overlord. 

Since Valentino doesn’t have Vox to keep his temper in check he got into trouble he couldn’t get out of (maybe that’s how his antenna is damaged in this AU). He’s forced to sell his soul to Alastor for survival. 

This Valentino isn’t as terrible a piece of garbage as cannon!Val since Al snatched him up before he could commit his worst actions. 

Valentino is a lot less impulsive than his cannon counterpart (though still impulsive). He’s pretty bitter and somber here. That fire in him was snuffed out. I imagine he would become a chain smoker to cope.   

-/-/-/- 

Maybe without Valentino dragging him down Angel Dust becomes the Overlord of the movie/porn industry (with a mafia flavoring to all of it) instead. Then he could join up with Husk and Niffty to become this AUs equivalent of the Vees. (What would their name be? I’m not sure if you could make a good acronym with A/D, H, & N. Maybe a word relating to their themes? Fashion, gambling, and mafia/movies. Bug, cat, and spider)

-/-/-

I know it would be unlikely, but I think it would be sweet if Velvette, Valentino, and Vox still end up being friends. 

Valentino could act as a sorta mentor to Velvette, like cannon Husk and Angel Dust (minus the romance). 

Him and Vox and kinda friends, he finds him endearing most of the time. (Vox has a giant crush on him, Val is oblivious to it).

Velvette likes showing off modern tech to Vox, who’s in absolute awe of it all! After Velvette and Valentino find out what Alastor did to Vox they become fiercely protective of him (like Vaggie in regular RAM).

Random thoughts

Velvette would probably end up at the hotel, but not of her own free will. In Vel's opinion, redemption isn't possible and she's got a pretty sweet gig as an overlord's personal assistant/favorite model, but when Niffty "asks" her to go spy on what's going on in there, she doesn't have much of a choice.

Velvette still goes by her sinner name, but Niffty always calls her "Vicky/Vicki." It's a manipulation tactic she uses on all of her employees/contractees; using their human names in order to create a sense of intimacy and reinforce the "big, happy family" thing she's going for. Velvette's not a fan.

Niffty probably isn't as fixated on the 50s in this scenario since fashion is all about staying up-to-date. She still enjoys incorporating retro motifs into her designs though. Velvette's stuck with a pair of cat eye glasses that she thinks are tacky as hell (aaaaand now I'm reminded of HellSerVants).

Oof, Val would not be having a good time under Alastor. Husk's smart and levelheaded enough that I don't think Alastor's ever done anything truly gruesome to him, but Val such a defiant, overly sexual loudmouth that I feel like Al probably spent the first decade or so of their contract disciplining him. That's probably how his antenna got fucked up in this scenario and I'm not sure his wings would be long for this world either. He's been with Alastor and Vox for between 20-50 years though, so he's learned how to behave himself by the time of the main story (at least when Alastor's around). But yeah, Val's pretty miserable, although his real personality occasionally manages to shine through (for better and for worse).

I think I prefer the Mafia Overlord Angel to Porn/Sex Work Overlord Angel. Maybe he took over his dad's syndicate after he died (either by Angel's hand or someone else's).

I don't think Niffty, Husk, and Angel would form a formal partnership in the same way as the Vees (I think that's something sort of unique to Vox among other overlords), but maybe they're casual allies/friends here.

Vox and Val have an interesting relationship. Val never knew the "real" Vox since he was broken before Val even arrived in Hell, but he ends up growing fond of him nonetheless. He thought Vox was sort of pathetic and annoying when they first met, but as the years go on, Val starts to notice traces of the person Vox used to be ("Oh. You're bad.")– the person he'd fall in love with under different circumstances. By the time they end up at the hotel, they're pretty good friends (Val might've even been the one to give Vox a place to stay after Alastor went MIA (or he could've just bounced around in the grid for seven years, either works)). Val eventually comes to resent Alastor for robbing him of the opportunity to meet the original Vox, although he can still see the value in the one that exists now.

Vox is conflicted over having feelings for both Valentino and Alastor. He knows he can't ever pursue things with Al, but it still feels like a betrayal to have a crush on someone else. He doesn't talk about it, but it's something that's obviously going on in the background with him.

The Vees finding each other in every universe and becoming friends at the hotel would be super sweet. Velvette wasn't anticipating making friends at all, let alone with these two weirdos, but she's glad she did.

[culpeppercheckers721]

Ok but in all seriousness, if we are gonna discuss Peggy OUTSIDE of just the hot bracket. 😂 I know we’re all like “I support women’s wrongs!” and I do love strong female characters myself, even when I know they’re villains! However Peggy may be the exception to that rule, because as much as it seems to go weirdly unacknowledged at times, I’d like to just say that Peggy is just. Objectively. Not that great of a person. 🤡

If I can just explain my viewpoint, I recognize that going into the show, I was always biased because I had already done some light research on her and the Arnold treason plot and knew about her historically, so I already absolutely detested Peggy Shippen before seeing Turn’s characterization of her, where yes she does get something of a sympathetic portrayal as many loyalists and redcoats do on this show (which is generally good because history is complicated, and it’s not all black and white, so I’m not saying that was a bad choice or anything!!), but I still don’t think it sugarcoated her enough for Peggy to be seen as a morally great character. 😅

Regarding how she totally manipulated Arnold into joining the British and basically ruining his own life, I want to preface this with YES I also hate Arnold and would punch him if I could, and YES I think Arnold was perfectly capable of ruining his own life by himself, but that being said… it is still pretty painful to watch, and if not for Arnold’s sake, than for the sake of everyone else who was negatively impacted by his treason. 💀 Honestly, there are some similarities I find between how dangerous Mary can be and how dangerous Peggy can be, only I think the key difference is that Mary uses it for “good” and Peggy uses it for “evil,” if you will. 😂 I don’t think Mary is some flawless goddess, and I get the argument that everything Peggy did was for Andre and how devoted she was to him… but I don’t think it’s a reach for me to say that with the exception of Andre, she may or may not sacrifice others’ happiness for her own. And have we forgotten the candlestick scene??? When she was threatening Cicero, talking to him about her family’s servants getting rewarded vs. getting horsewhipped and asking him which one he would prefer??? (Honestly, even if she did end up on their side since she wanted to help with the kidnapping, I think Abigail should have got to knock Peggy out with the candlestick just for fun, who knows if she’d even remember it after anyways 💀) Like some of Peggy’s insensitive words likely just happen since she’s a product of her time, and since she grew up as privileged and rich as she did (let’s not forget Andre himself noting how her family views themselves as above essentially everyone, even the king’s authority which you’d think would matter to loyalist-leaning parties at the time), but that scene rather rubs me the wrong way. 😬 And remember that time when her and Philomena were essentially fighting over Andre even after he was already DEAD LMAO, and just because Philomena was rude to her once she got her sent to fucking PRISON??? LIKE HELLO POOR PHILOMENA. 💀

As traumatizing as I’m sure it was for her to see Andre die, and as much as I genuinely pity her then, I don’t think that’s an excuse for THAT course of action. And further still, there’s nothing that makes her actions prior to his death quite ok either. I could go on and on about this all day y’all but I think you get the point lol Peggy Shippen is simply… someone I would never want to be around. 😀 Like, it genuinely scares me sometimes when I remember that, of course, there are manipulative people like her still out there now. 😀 Not exactly fun to consider.

There’s a great video touching on this general topic from Not Even Emily who is far funnier than me, but to repeat her point, “women [and therefore female characters] can be bad people, too, and that’s true equality, babe!” 😂 So if you simply like Peggy as something of a morally grey or even morally bad character then I won’t try to talk you out of that of course, and even if you do for whatever reason defend her, you’re still entitled to your opinion! I know for a fact I can’t talk everyone out of liking her and nor would I try since that’s just as controlling as she is lol, but I still have just wanted to get this out of my system for a while since I find it to be sort of odd that this topic isn’t discussed more lmao.

Thank you so much if you actually read this besties, it is appreciated 💕

[adrinoir]

I had a bunch of people make some really good points on my last post about Adrien being very defensive and overprotective of Marinette. So, I kinda wanna deep dive into them.

Firstly, he was never taught how to properly cope with any serious emotions, especially anger. We’ve seen that, unfortunately, Adrien mirrors his father in smashing and breaking things whenever he’s angry or frustrated. This is the only way these two know how to get their anger out.

From what we understand, Gabriel has abused Adrien for a good portion of - if not, all of - his life. He neglects him, leaving with Adrien with no family member to open up to (unless we count Nathalie - she’s the real MVP here). He manipulates him, leading Adrien to feel like there are times where Gabriel actually cares a lot about him. He exploits Adrien through modeling, which has made it hard for Adrien to find himself as a person.

Because of all this abuse, Adrien represses a lot of his real emotions to be this “perfect” son. He just wants his father to love him and he’s gone to lengths where he’ll do just about anything for Gabriel to simply earn his love. Although, thank god Adrien is learning not to do this so much anymore and is starting to break out of his shell.

However, Adrien breaking out of his shell is not being executed very healthily. A lot of times, Adrien’s emotions - particularly anger, most times - are released because other people’s actions have made them boil to the surface to a point where Adrien can’t contain them. This is why it’s scary to think of when he’s going to be brought to his full breaking point.

A few people brought up Chat Blanc as an example in my last post. When Gabriel revealed he was Hawk Moth, Adrien was tipped over the edge, enough to where he destroyed the entire world. That is horrifying and we now know what Adrien is capable of. The only reason I hadn’t mentioned it is because I’ve been wondering if there is something else - something not nearly as bad as his own father being Hawk Moth and manipulating him to picking him or the love of his life - that would send him over the edge.

My theory is that someone doing something horrendous to Marinette is what could completely break him and possibly cause him to beat up or even cataclysm someone. I don’t want to believe Adrien has the heart to do that, but we’ve caught glimpses of him this season attempting to cataclysm people and balling up his fist at his own classmate. And sure, Adrien might feel bad after trying or actually damaging someone, but he’s still accountable and he did it because he physically couldn’t control himself.

And THAT is what’s scary, that Adrien’s emotions are bubbling up so much that something small might just cause him to break. It feels like something wouldn’t necessarily have to be as extreme as Gabriel revealing himself as Hawk Moth to make Adrien break, considering we’re already seeing big signs of Adrien’s repressed anger.

Adrien showing bits of anger might not be new, but we should be concerned because it’s only getting worse.

[agentrouka-blog]

Saw an old ask you answered about Mya and had to ask your thoughts on Myranda Royce. Like, she’s the character I’m the most curious about re: the winds of winter. We know from Dumb and Dumber that the Vale plotting for Sansa won’t actually be very long (I’m assuming she gets out of there right after the tourney and leaves for the wall /possibly with the help of Brienne and or Brynden/maybe after some shenanigans from the mountain clans) but from what we can assume Bronze Yohn will be on Sansa‘s side and help her out (like in the show). Now, Myranda's Nestor dad is indebted to LF (and friends with him!) and I find it unlikely that she would pick her father’s cousins side over her dads? With her being lady of the gates too. And at this point everyone is in agreement that Myranda knows that Alayne is Sansa (very obviously highborn, educated, not interested in the new high septon despite allegedly training to be a septa, knows Ned starks bastards name, LOOKS like Catelyn Tully whom she has met not even 2 years before). IMO what’s pointing towards Myranda actually being on our girls side is 1) LF warning Alayne about her, 2) Myranda herself introducing herself as wanting to be wicked, 3) the fact that Myranda being just another Margaery would be lazy and boring, 4) The failed Myranda/Harry betrothal being revealed almost immediately by her, so it can’t actually be a major point of contention for her, right? I don’t want to put too much stock in what the show did but them naming their annoying evil fucked up Ramsay–simp Myranda Royce does sometimes make me hesitate in putting my faith behind Myranda. Ultimately I think she will look out for herself most of all but I feel like her interests aline with Sansa and it will be a net positive. I mainly just want Sansa to have actual allies! Do you think the two branches of the Royce family could end up in agreement/be scheming against LF? After all, besides Bronze Yohn's friendship with NedCat, the Royces share blood with the Starks and their house motto is "We Remember“!

I think you hit the nail on the head with the concept of aligning interests.

Nestor, I don't think he's that good of an actor to be actively fooling Littlefinger himself while appearing to be flattered into complicity, but Myranda is sharp as a knife and clearly not quite satisfied with her lot in life of marrying old men her father picks out for her. But she seems too invested in Sweetrobin to really care that much about marrying Harry for his potential title, as opposed to simply a handsome dolt her own age. So whatever she cares about, it's not in opposition to either Sansa or Sweetrobin. She's capable of subtly interrogating Sansa without her even realizing it, and she has sat on this information for months now without making a move yet. Littlefinger considers her a threat, which is the greatest compliment imaginable, and he wouldn't do that if he thought she was easily manipulated or had goals he could easily assist her with.

If the show paid lip-service to Sansa's Vale plot by naming Ramsay's invented lover after her, I don't imagine it's because Myranda herself is secretly evil, but because she's one of the key figures in the Vale arc.

I imagine she is part of a larger conspiracy connecting her to Bronze Yohn and Anya Waynwood. She would be ideally placed to be a spy for them, and they have the resources she lacks to act on her own behalf and without her father's knowledge. A Myranda who assists the Lords Declarant in removing Littlefinger from power (the mark of a true patriot, honestly) is a Myranda who may yet be rewarded with a better marital match than Harry The Obsolete Heir. (Roland, the Waynwood heir? Andar, the Royce heir?)

[midnight-in-town]

Hey =) how do you think that Coco will feel when she'll know what happened to Galga? Considering that she has indirectly caused this situation? Of course it's not her and Tarta fault but Ininia wouldn't have been able to erase Galga's memories if he had not been unable to move. Especially that he was just doing his job, is a very kind man, and wasn't as extreme that mister rampage that they had to drug to calm him (and i hope HE will be punished for what he did because he got a lot too far).

Hey Anon ! My apologies for the delay :) The pace has been on and off in WHA, so I admit I haven't been keeping up seriously with the recent releases !

To answer your questions :

"how do you think that Coco will feel when she'll know what happened to Galga?"

Since Coco is a very nice girl, I'm sure she'll feel guilty about Galga, though I'd like to emphasize that I don't think any of the children (Coco, Tartar, Ininia and Coustas) should be blamed for what happened.

As I’ve been saying in the past, children don’t know better and can’t be blamed for being manipulated by adults, which was clearly the case for Ininia and Coustas. As for Coco, she and Tartar were trying to protect their friends (and rightful victims of the current system, let's be clear) and neither meant for Galga to lose his memories.

Galga's amnesia is the fault of Lord Restis and, more generally, I believe the Knights Moralis are fully to blame for evicting their comrade with barely an afterthought because "that's the law".

Again, WHA is about being allowed to criticize an unfair magic system that benefits only a few, since the system causes victims to be blamed instead of being protected, meaning it's beyond flawed and needs changing.

And children like Coco (especially Coco-chan who used to be ignorant of what magic is in this universe) innocently try to provoke change, to make mentalities change, offering creative solutions to a rigid issue.

It's that simple : to most adults, there is no creativity, the law can't be changed, obviously because they benefit from it. To children, it needs changing, because children will naturally wonder about the rules and about the world they live in ; that's why they want to learn and understand why "forbidden" spells are forbidden.

Ultimately though, what's important in this arc is that Coco figured out that they all share the same purpose, as Qifrey taught her, and it's why she's so determined to help Coustas :

So no, while I think Coco could feel guilty because she's a good child, she's in no way to blame for what happened to Galga and I hope many adults will reassure her.

Overall, I find it ironic that, despite Galga really being such a nice man, being a part of such a rigid and oppressing system cost him not only his memory but his whole life, as he was evicted from his own community the second he started needing their help. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

That's why I can't forgive Estheath for now. Speaking of him:

"do you think that what [Estheath] did will have consequence ?"

Shirahama-sensei is a good and consistent writer, so yeah, I sure damn hope so !

First of all, I think an institution like the Knights Moralis was written specifically to highlight what's unfair in the current magic system and that doesn't mean characters can't develop or get redemption, on the contrary !

Take my girl Lulucy for instance : she was a victim of one part of the system and she chose to join the Knights Moralis because they rescued her. Now confronted by the reality of the current crisis and the proposed solutions, she admits that change can be good :

Because, as a character, Lulucy is capable of understanding and accepting that change is a necessity given the situation ; that's why she went against the same Knights Moralis who saved her, as soon as Estheath went on a legal rampage against his own boss and a 12 year old little girl.

So yes, I'm sure consequences (and maybe even redemption ?) will come for Estheath, seeing as he was proven wrong before he even decided to erase everyone's memories. Because yes, fighting for change can be hard, but if everyone works on it, it will often lead to more positive results than refusing change altogether.

In the current arc, it's the sum of Coco fighting for her ideas in front of Beldarut, Agathe's love for decorative sigils, Riche's talent with tiny spells and Tetia's final idea that created "the opportunity for overcoming diversity" :

Estheath' big issue is that, unlike Lulucy, he doesn't see past the fear of the pact being broken. They taught him "beware of the dark days before the pact" and that's literally all he cares about, because "change" represents an unknown concept that he can't handle.

Estheath fears change, because he has no control over what dozens of witches will do with a knowledge he considers dangerous.

As a character entirely lost in his own subjectivity, he stagnates and thus he will face consequences for refusing to change, preferring to attack his own mentor and a 12 year old instead of confronting his fears.

Don't get me wrong though, as I've written before, I believe it's entirely possible that the 3 Sages and Estheath are aware of a dark (and still unknown to us) truth hiding behind that pact. Maybe the disappearance of magic altogether if the pact is broken and dark days arise once more ? That would explain why Estheath is so afraid of change and why the Brim Hats are indeed a threat...

...but that still doesn't mean he had the right to attack all these people.

There is a lot we still don't know, but WHA still stands strong on the idea that knowledge, or lack thereof, being the justification for blaming the victims and the vulnerable is wrong.

Sorry for rambling, I hope it made sense, haha ! Last but not least, I'd like to show everyone these pages depicting Coco's resolve, because they were breathtakingly beautiful !

Despite not knowing every little dark secret, my girl is not in the wrong and that's probably why she's Iguin's hope still (as bad as it sounds, admittedly).

I hope I answered your questions, have a good day Anon ! :D