#me saving this to drafts to go and look >.>

[cinnamanz]

✦ ─── 𝓒hampagne 𝓒oast , 𝓢ophia 𝓛aforteza do you miss me too?

─── 𝓨ou think about reaching out. just a text. just a line. this song still sounds like you. but you don’t. not because the love is gone—but because some stories are meant to live in the quiet. in glances. in songs. in memories. because letting go doesn’t mean you ever wanted to. and sophia—sweet, golden, soft at the edges and sharp at the center—was never really yours. but she was real.

❝𝓪ll my last strength against you,

𝓫aby tell me what you need.❞

౨ৎ 𝓹airing. predebut!sophia laforteza x female reader ౨ৎ 𝓰enre. fluff if u squint, undefined relationship, was it ever casual? no. angst (i tried) like a ton of it but i wasn't trying to drown u, hurt no comfort, wc. 3299 a/n. my exams js finished nd i thought id give yall sumn as compensation for the lack of mamma mia updates LMAO i was trying sumn new w this oneshot—writing style wise—nd im ngl it didn't quite go how i wanted to nd i ended up writing less bc of this experimental oneshot 😭😭😭 anyw, this is a long overdue angst from me i tried my best💔💔💔 i saw smn on tiktok say sophia is the type of person ud have a crush on high school nd that mainly inspired this so thanks random tiktok editor. this is mostly how i imagined champagne coast

❝𝔂oung as i want to know,

𝓲'll never let you go.❞

YOU REMEMBER HER BEST IN SHADES OF GOLD. not the kind that glitters, but the kind that glows. sun-warm. skin-close. the kind of gold that poured through her bedroom blinds every time you snuck in past midnight and stayed for as long as you could before school dawned, heart thudding, breath caught between wanting and wondering.

sophia.

sophia with the smile that felt like a secret sunrise. with soft pink polish barely clinging to her nails and the habit of humming songs she hadn’t written yet. her voice always held a lilt of laughter, like a secret being shared. 

she had a laugh that caught sunlight in its rhythm, and a way of remembering everyone's name like it was the most important one she'd ever heard. she moved through the halls like spring after a long winter—bright, warm, impossible not to notice. her presence made lockers bloom and linoleum shimmer. 

she’d offer a compliment with such genuine ease that it felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. she held eye contact like she was seeing you for the first and last time all at once. sophia, who always smelled like vanilla chapstick and the faintest trace of gardenias after rain. you said her name like a prayer you didn’t believe in but kept whispering anyway. just in case it could save you.

she’s everywhere now. bigger than memory, louder than youth. katseye headlines every festival lineup, and her voice spills from every speaker like honey and summer. but back then, she was just a girl with stardust in her laugh and music in her fingertips. her family’s name opened doors and booked venues, but sophia walked through them like they didn’t matter. she made time slow down. she made you feel like you were being seen through a softer lens.

sophia’s world had always been lyrical. she moved through life like she was humming a song only she could hear. each step light, each smile like a melody lingering in the air long after she’d walked away. 

everything about her felt improvised yet effortlessly right, like the first draft of a poem that didn’t need editing. she spoke in rhythm, thought in metaphor, lived in verses. there was music in her hands, in her laughter, in the way she leaned her head back when she was thinking—as if catching something only the sky could offer.

your world, on the other hand, was cinematic. made of still frames and silences. you didn’t move through life—you watched it. framed things, paused them, looked for symmetry in the ordinary. 

you didn’t always speak, but you noticed everything: the flutter of her lashes when she was about to say something vulnerable, the exact tilt of her smile when she was hiding a bruise of sadness. where sophia saw a lyric, you saw a shot list. where she saw wonder, you saw composition. where she breathed melody, you caught meaning in the silences between.

she narrated the world in chorus; you captured it in light. you were opposites in the way a poem and a film are different ways of saying the same thing. 

and somehow, in those precious months where your lives tangled and bloomed, you translated each other.

you met her in late march. spring still a whisper, flowers barely blooming, the sky bruised with indecision. your film teacher read names off a list, pairing students for the semester film project. you weren’t paying attention until you heard it: "y/n and sophia."

she turned to you with a smile that looked like it belonged to someone in a film already. sharp and soft at the same time. her voice was breezy, casual. "guess we’re partners."

you nodded, blinking, caught in her gravity already.

when you sat together to brainstorm, her notebook was full of lyrics—descriptions of faces in profile, sunflowers, waves crashing over shoulders. 

she wanted to create something that felt like breathing. you wanted to shoot something that felt like dreaming.

so you made a film about nature and people. about how vines wrap around fingers like lovers. how wind braids hair. how skin glows in golden hour like the earth is passing its light into it. sophia became the muse. barefoot in tall grass. spinning in white linen. half-submerged in a creek, laughing. you directed and held the lens like it was a heartbeat.

"you make the world look softer," she said once in awe, watching a playback.

"it only looks like that because you’re in it," you replied. your voice almost cracked from saying it.

she didn’t say anything then. just smiled at the screen, her reflection flickering over her shoulder.

that project was the beginning. the spark. long editing nights that bled into morning. coffee shared from the same chipped mug. the camera always between you—until it wasn’t. until it was just her, and you, and the quiet understanding that bloomed beneath everything left unsaid.

it started, maybe, on the hill.

that nowhere hill behind her high-rise, just past the stillness of manicured parks and closed cafés, where city light softened into starlight. you called it your chapel. the place where time slowed down and everything else disappeared.

every summer night, you’d sneak into her room at twelve-oh-something. her window creaked like it missed you. sophia would be waiting in a hoodie three sizes too big, her braid unraveling like ribbon. sometimes she brought snacks. sometimes she brought a poem. sometimes she brought nothing but herself.

and that was enough.

you’d walk, fingers brushing, shoulders bumping. and when the world was quiet enough, she’d start to sing. something half-formed. breathy. beautiful. you never interrupted. just listened. memorized the shape of her in the dark.

you brought your guitar once. not to impress, not to perform—just to fill the quiet with something that wouldn’t spill over into words. sophia lit up when she saw it, eyes shining like she’d been waiting for this without knowing it.

"you play?" she asked, voice full of something like awe.

"just a little," you said, shy.

she grinned and sat cross-legged in the grass, hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands. "can i sing?"

and so you played. soft, simple chords beneath your fingers like the beat of a heart learning a new rhythm. and sophia—god, sophia—she sang like her voice belonged to the sky. high, clear, breathy in the way that made your lungs forget how to work. you caught her gaze mid-song, and she smiled at you—not the kind she gave to the world, but the one that felt like it was stitched from your name.

you harmonised by instinct, your voice falling in beside hers like it had always belonged there. no one told you how music could feel like holding hands in the dark. no one told you it could be the first time you really felt someone without the need for physical touch.

when the last note faded, you didn’t speak. just sat there, letting the silence gather around you like a blanket, the ghost of melody still hovering between your mouths.

she leaned her head against your shoulder.

"you think stars remember us?" she asked.

"i think we remember them enough to make it count," you replied.

she looked up at you, pupils wide, eyes full of summer and something softer.

"i don’t want to be forgotten," she whispered.

"you won’t," you promised.

because that was the night something began. not loudly, not clearly, but with a strum and a hum and a shared breath beneath stars.

you'd never play that song for anyone else again. not because it was sacred. but because it already belonged to her.

the first time you kissed, you could feel the earth shift beneath you.

her lips were soft, trembling against yours like they were learning how to be still. the air between you was thick, humming with the kind of tension that seemed too big for both of you, yet you moved closer, closer still, until it was only her and the night and the stillness of a world that didn’t seem to matter anymore.

her hands were on your face, fingers delicate as they traced your jaw, as if committing every contour to memory. and then her mouth was on yours again, and this time, the kiss was deep and slow, a kind of sweetness that burned hotter than you ever imagined. you ran your hands up her sides, fingers exploring the soft curve of her waist, mapping it to memory like it was the only thing you’d ever truly need to know.

you could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her hoodie, the heat from her body seeping into yours. it spread like wildfire, quick and alive, until every nerve inside you was set alight. you held her so close—so impossibly close—that her breath mingled with yours, her heartbeat a steady thrum in the rhythm of your own.

god, you thought, as you kissed her deeper like she was air and you were addicted, letting yourself succumb and drown in her warmth. i have never felt so close to heaven as i have now with my lips on hers, and holding her so close to me that her warmth spills and spreads over me in waves, lighting every nerve lining of mine on fire.

“i think..." you whispered, your voice shaky with something raw, something tender. "i think i like you."

she smiled at you, the softest, saddest smile you'd ever seen, as if she already knew that what was happening between you was fleeting even before the hushed confession, a fleeting thing that would burn bright and quick before it was gone.

but for now, it didn’t matter.

for now, it was just you and her and the kind of kiss that felt like everything.

and for just a moment, you let yourself believe that everything was enough.

senior year rolled in with deadlines and early applications and the kind of weight that makes your bones feel older than they are. you and sophia partnered up for another media project. a short film. something dreamy, something about the in-between. something that felt like both of you.

one afternoon, everyone else had gone home, and it was just you and her in the empty classroom. she was sitting on the windowsill, the wind playing with the ends of her hair, painting her in soft light. you lifted the camcorder, pressed record. through the viewfinder, she looked unreal. backlit, untouchable. like something borrowed from a dream.

and it struck you again—how sophia's world was lyrical, and yours was cinematic. where she sat in that golden light, she looked like a line of poetry you’d never forget. but through your lens, she was also something else—framed, finite, fading even as you filmed. it hit you with a sharp kind of knowing: this would only ever be a memory. the footage would last, but the moment would not.

"what?" she asked, turning to you.

"nothing," you said, even though everything was happening all at once. because in that moment, with her framed by the sky and the silence, you knew. this wouldn’t last.

some people are moments. not destinations.

and sophia? she was a meteor. blazing. brief.

that footage still lives somewhere on your hard drive. you haven't played it in years. you’re not sure you could survive the sound of her voice saying your name in that soft, sun-drenched tone again.

some days, she was distant—her mind lost in melodies you hadn’t yet heard, her gaze turned inward, like she was looking at something beyond you. other days, she clung to you like gravity, as if the weight of her presence alone could pull you back from drifting too far into your own thoughts. 

you started to learn the language of her moods: the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was uncertain, how she bit her lip when she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words, as if speaking them would unravel something fragile that was better left unsaid.

one night, there was nothing but the quiet between you. the hum of distant cars, the weight of the stars above. you could feel her next to you, close but just out of reach in a way that made everything feel too heavy, too raw.

"i wish i could keep this forever," you said, your voice barely more than a breath. the words fell from your lips before you could stop them, the kind of wish you didn’t know you had until it was already there, full and aching.

“this?” she asked, her voice soft, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“you. us. this...whatever this is,” you murmured, unable to name it, afraid of the weight of what it could mean if you did.

she didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you, the kind of look that made you feel like she could see into the places you didn’t let anyone touch. her smile came slowly, tinged with something tender and sad, as if she already knew what was coming, what was always coming, but wasn’t ready to let go yet. 

"you know some things aren’t meant to go on forever, even if they feel like they could."

you wanted to argue, to tell her that this—whatever this was—felt too big to be just a passing season. but the truth was, you didn’t know what it was. nothing about it was defined, and maybe that made it even more real.

"maybe," you whispered, the ache tightening in your chest. "but even a song gets stuck in your head for years."

and in that moment, with nothing else left to say, you both let the silence stretch between you.

when katseye began to bloom into the world’s consciousness, you watched her from the quiet. from the sidelines. where you had always been. tv interviews filtered through your screen late at night, their light flickering across your bedroom walls like ghosts you couldn’t name. 

there she was—sophia—draped in gowns that shimmered like the sea on moonlit nights, lips painted the soft red of a closing day, laughter threaded with rehearsed charm. people loved her. how could they not?

but you listened closely—not to her words, but to her voice beneath the voice. and god, it still sounded like her. like the girl who once sang barefoot beneath the stars, who curled into your side with wind-tangled hair and asked if heaven could be a person. that voice hadn’t changed. it still held the ache of midnights, the tremble of wishes no one ever said out loud.

but her eyes—her eyes had learned something you hadn’t. they were no longer the windows that once opened only for you, soft and unguarded and impossibly full of wonder. 

now they shimmered with something distant. practiced. eyes that had seen too much, learned how to hold just enough back to be adored but never known. she had become someone the world could look at, but never touch. someone who had learned how to let go.

you didn’t go to the farewell party that night of graduation.

you told people you were busy. that you forgot. but the truth was quieter than that, more fragile. you couldn’t stand the idea of watching her say goodbye to a place she always belonged to, to a chapter she had always meant to leave behind. you couldn’t watch her smile at the crowd and thank them for memories that brushed her skin.

so instead, you went to the hill. the hill that started it all. 

alone.

the one you both used to sneak off to when the world felt too sharp. the one where you’d bring your guitar, and she’d bring her voice, and between the two of you, you created something unnamable. you didn’t bring the guitar this time. there was no need. even the silence was loud with her absence.

you lay on the grass and stared at the sky until the stars blurred, your throat aching with a name you refused to say out loud. but it was there. it always was. in the hush between crickets. in the wind brushing against your cheek like a goodbye you never received. her name lived in the quiet. in the stillness. in the ache.

and maybe that was love.

not the kind that stays, but the kind that marks you anyway.

and sometimes, on the loneliest nights—when the world feels too quiet, and the sky hangs heavy with all the things you never said—you still look up at the stars and wonder if they remember.

two girls. a camera. a song.

you wonder if the stars recall the softness of her voice beside you, how it curled into the night like incense smoke, how your name sounded different when she said it—more alive, more whole. you wonder if they remember how her hand brushed yours in the dark like it meant something, like everything unspoken between you was understood anyway.

one of you rose—like the crescendo of a chorus, like light breaking over a stage. the other stayed—quiet, still, holding onto the echoes.

you don’t talk anymore—an outcome that didn’t come as a surprise—not really. just likes on old photos buried beneath filters and captions that meant more at the time. sometimes a tagged memory surfaces from the past—a birthday, a laugh, a behind-the-scenes shot—and her username feels like a paper cut across your chest. she never shared it, and neither did you. a reminder. a timeline. a pause you never quite recovered from.

every once in a while, champagne coast plays—that damned song you’d both fought over whether to use for the short film or not, that cost hours of editing over something so petty you’d won anyway—. maybe in a café, maybe in the shuffle of a playlist you forgot you made. 

the first few notes are enough. your breath stutters. and suddenly you're seventeen again, filming her by the window of an empty classroom, wind tugging gently at her hair, sunlight turning her into something god might’ve carved by hand.

you still remember the last day of filming. how she laughed at something you said. how you almost kissed her again, but didn’t.

how the golden hour touched her skin like it was saying goodbye too.

that day replays sometimes, in slow motion, like the final scene of a movie that never made it to theaters. you never really wrote an ending. just...stopped filming.

and maybe that’s the cruelest part. that there was no goodbye, no final bow. just the quiet unraveling of something too beautiful to hold.

you think about reaching out. just a text. just a line. this song still sounds like you.

but you don’t.

not because the love is gone—but because some stories are meant to live in the quiet. in glances. in songs. in memories. because letting go doesn’t mean you ever wanted to.

and sophia—sweet, golden, soft at the edges and sharp at the center—was never really yours. but she was real.

and that’s what you carry. not the goodbye. not the could-have-beens. just the memory. just the thought.

the way she looked at you once, when the camera was rolling and she didn’t know it—blissfully unaware she’d changed your life for the better or worse or in between, if that even made sense. the way your name lingered in her voice when no one else was listening.

the stars. the song. the stillness.

her.

and you. forever changed.

not by what lasted—but by what burned bright enough to leave a mark.

even now, you still look up. you find the time to. and sometimes, she’s still there. in the sky. in the silence. in the memory. like light you never forgot how to follow.

masterlist.

— please do not repost, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way without permission. thank you! xx

[moonflowergirlsworld]

A dear anon Requested; Yandere Rover with unlucky reader.

While thinking about how to write it, I remembered a request in my Wattpad; Yandere Male Rover with an Isekai'd simp reader.

The ideas opened the flood gates and I combined the two to write it, But accidentally I posted the half written Oneshot instead of saving in drafts, in a panic I deleted the whole thing and then lost the anon Ask.

(⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

After having a meltdown, I got back the motivation and wrote it from scratch.

Yandere M! Rover x unlucky simp isekai'd F!Reader

This was the blueprint / reference sheet for this oneshot.

Slowburn

12k words (was having so much fun writing this I didn't even notice the word count.)

Wuwa Version 2.0 Rinascita spoilers

Rinascita was never ready for your thirst.

You were losing your mind. Not in a metaphorical, “haha I love this game” way—no, actually losing it. Right there on your bed, wrapped in a blanket burrito, your phone inches from your face, you screamed at a pixelated man who had no idea the chokehold he had on your soul.

“YESSSSS! 100K DAMAGE! GO OFF, KING!”

Your screen was a whirlwind of Havoc energy—your Rover dodging as your fingers maneuvered with precision on your phone screen. With a flick of his fingers, the Umbra bar pulsed to max, you clicked the resonance Liberation.

His voice came:

“You will Obey!”

“AHHHH I SWEAR TO GOD YOU COULD MURDER ME AND I’D THANK YOU—”

Dark Surge erupted. His scythe formed from a pulse of void-black resonance, and in a single sweep, the TD was gone. Like, deleted. A 100K crit damage number splashed across the screen and you collapsed backward like it had personally hit you.

You clutched your phone above your head, grinning like a madman, heart pounding like you'd just been proposed to. “This is it. This is peak gaming.”

Then gravity remembered you existed. The phone slipped from your fingers and smacked you right on the nose. You yelped, hands flailing, dignity nowhere in sight.

Peak gaming? More like peak misfortune.

After picking up your phone, you started to do your dailies. The dailies were easy. With him by your side, you finished off everything with a grin. You tried to act normal—keyword tried. But you still found yourself whispering, “Look at my man gooo~” every time he did that spinning blade combo.

"Now, I just need to finish the Rinascita quest and Aero Rover is mine!" you declared dramatically, just as your phone clung to life at a tragic 5%. You stared at it like it had personally betrayed you. With the sigh of someone who's been wronged by fate itself, you slapped it onto the charger.

When you finally logged out, you sighed long and hard, rolling onto your stomach.

“God, I wish I was there,” you muttered. “Like, not even in a weird way.” You rolled around on the bed, talking to yourself like any sane person would. “Okay, maybe a little weird, but I just wanna meet him. I’d totally be chill, right? I’d be cool. He wouldn't know I'm mentally married to him. I can fake normal.” You stared up at the ceiling.

“Just one chance, universe. One chance.”

Like the protagonist of every isekai anime ever, you fell asleep like that, mind filled with daydreams about him. Blanket half on the floor. Still mumbling about scythe physics and “how hot it is when he says anything in that voice of his.”

You woke up mid-scream.

Not because you were in danger. You were falling. Your body was currently plummeting through the air like a sack of potatoes. A flash of green, a swirl of clouds, and now—face-first into a patch of moss.

“Mmfh—ow—oof—my back…” you groaned, rolling over with all the grace of a flipped turtle. Leaves stuck to your cheek. Something���probably a bug—buzzed suspiciously near your ear. You slapped it away with a shriek and scrambled up, wobbling like a newborn deer.

What the hell?

You looked around, eyes wide. The trees swayed gently above you. As you looked up, a breathtaking sight unfolded—towering trees and jagged mountains pierced through the clouds. Ancient ruins peeked through the foliage, whispering tales of a bygone era. The air was thick with the scent of moss and hummed with strange frequencies.

Everything shimmered faintly, like the game’s graphics got injected with magic steroids. Except... this wasn’t your screen. This was real.

You smacked your own cheek once. Twice. “Ow—okay. Okay. This is happening.”

Your heart thundered. You spun in a circle, awe and panic slamming into each other like bumper cars. “This is Rinascita. This is actually Rinascita—holy SHIT I’m IN the GAME.”

You shrieked and tripped over a tree root you definitely should’ve seen, collapsing into a bush. It scratched the hell out of your arm, but the pain was just proof: real, not a dream.

And then you heard footsteps. You froze, your butt still plopped on the bush.

Crunch. Crunch.

Shadows danced across the moss. A low hum of resonance energy vibrated through the air, in a way that sent goosebumps down your spine.

As he came into view, your lungs forgot how to function for a second as your gaze collided with his. Broad shoulders, lean waist. Black belts/straps wrapped around his hips and chest—he looked very dreamy up front.

And those eyes, so magnetic. “I love you,” you blurted out without even letting the thought cook in your brain.

The silence was loud, as he paused, shocked by the abruptness and genuineness of your tone. Even the wind paused like, girl.

You clamped your hands over your mouth, eyes wide in horror. “I—I mean—not like that—I mean yes like that but not in a weird way—well, okay, maybe a little weird, but—oh god, I just—I swear I’m normal. Sometimes... Fuck.”

Rover tilted his head, stepping closer, his eyes zoning in on the cut on your arm. “Are you injured?”

“Yes—no—I mean emotionally, yes. Physically... just my ego,” you mumbled the last part, still embarrassed.

You tried to stand, but your foot caught the same cursed root and you fell again, this time right at his feet. Like a peasant paying tribute.

You groaned into the dirt. “This is why I can’t have nice things. My unlucky streak is at it again...”

He didn’t laugh. Of course not. He is a gentleman through and through. Instead, he crouched down beside you.

You stared up at him from the ground, limbs tangled and expression fully dead inside. “You’re even hotter in person. That’s not helping.”

Pause, try not to be so obvious. you scold yourself, reminding yourself to keep the fangirling to a minimum.

He held his hand in front of you to help you get up, voice low and calm. “You seem... disoriented. Are you actually alright?”

You shook your head, took his offer with the kind of reverence usually reserved for divine intervention, allowing him to pull you up. He didn’t comment on the way you tripped again immediately after and used his jacket to steady yourself.

“I am sorry,” you whispered, gripping the fabric like a lifeline. “I’m not usually like this...”

He helped you be steady on your feet. His eyes didn’t leave your face. “That’s difficult to believe,” he said softly.

You couldn’t tell if he meant it as sarcasm or observation—but either way, damn, it did things to you, and he was so close.

You feel the lingering warmth of his hand on yours.

Not metaphorical warmth, Not the “he touched me, oh my God I’m swooning” kind. Actual heat, like a campfire still flickering in your veins. You glance down at your fingers You’d clung to him like he was the last thread tethering you to sanity—because maybe, he is.

He hasn’t stepped away, still hovering near. You guess he’s staying close so you don’t trip again. aw, how nice of him!

You’re still staring at that hand of yours. It’s shaking, combined with the sting of the scratch on your arm.

You blink down at your fingers. Curl them. Uncurl. You press your thumb into your palm like you’re trying to wake up—you already know the answer but you are still in denial. Nothing happens. The world doesn’t blur. There’s no logout button hovering over your peripheral vision.

Your throat tightens.

“I’m in Wuthering Waves,” you whisper, voice barely carried by the air. “The game. This is the game.”

You blink up at the sky—those shattered clouds, the hazy blue, the orange-tinged light that never feels quite right. It’s too beautiful to be real, and that’s the problem.

“I’m in the fucking game.” Your legs go stiff. You can’t look at Rover. Not yet. You can feel him beside you though. “Wait, wasn’t Truck-kun in charge of Isekai?! I mean, I love this game and I’m in it… I was happy a moment ago, but now I suddenly feel anxious!”

“I can’t even run two miles without gasping like a dying fish,” you mumble, voice catching on a breath. “I sprain my ankle walking too fast in socks. And now I’m here… in a post-apocalyptic monster hellscape…”

A breath escapes your lips. It sounds like a laugh, but it’s broken. It doesn’t make it past your teeth.

“I’m going to die here,” you whisper, almost stunned by your own words. “Of course this happened to me. Of course, knowing my luck. My life is just a string of bad RNG. And now in a game that would have me killed in less than a second!”

Your knees feel unsteady. The nausea creeps in like a slow wave, curling into your gut. Rover silently stands beside you, So completely unaware that you are currently having a mental breakdown in HD 4K resolution.

Maybe he knows but doesn't want to interrupt, ah, you are too far gone to think about that. You inhale shakily, Try to joke it off. “Haha, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you whisper but Your voice cracks.

Cool. Cool. Everything is fine.

You stare at him, Then you ask, “Have you met Cartethyia yet?”

He tilts his head. “...Who?”

You laugh. It’s the kind that sounds like it’s trying to crawl its way out of your throat, a panicky exhale.

You start mumbling.

“Montelli family… yeah, you’re supposed to team up with Carlotta. There’s this whole bit where you join the Troupe of Fools? Fight against Phrolova but make it look like a carnival performance. And then you receive the Laurel from Cartethyia, the Maiden. You meet her when she is dancing on water.”

You rub your temple, your brain short-circuiting, You crouch on the ground, slowly curling in on yourself, arms tightening around your knees.

“I don’t want to die,” you whisper, too soft. “I don’t even know how to hold a sword. I can’t fight monsters. I can’t run.”

Seeing someone fall, Rover quickly ran to help the said person. He had noticed you long before you realized he was watching.

Not just the way you stood awkwardly in this world—your posture not matching the other inhabitants, not aligning with the rhythm of this reality—but the way your eyes followed him. That slow trail of longing, like your gaze held a history no one had written yet.

He sees people look at him all the time. Wanting something. Needing something. Dressing up desperation in flattery.

But you blinked at him like someone seeing a memory in flesh. Like someone who couldn’t quite believe he existed. And then—“I love you.”

The words landed with a sincerity so bare, so vulnerable, it made his breath still for half a second.

Not lust. Not seduction. No angled smile or slanted voice. Just a truth, trembling at the base of your tongue, so unfiltered it didn’t even wait for permission.

His mind locked onto you like a puzzle piece with edges that didn’t match anything else in the box.

Flirting—he’d seen it all. It was currency here, like pain or adrenaline. Everyone tried it. A hand brushed too long, a compliment too smooth, a feigned stumble into his chest. It was the unspoken agreement of survivors: flatter the strong, and they might protect you.

He’d grown immune to it. So when you said you loved him?

He waited for the follow-up. The manipulation. The ask. The trade. But it never came.

You just stood there, awkward and pink in the cheeks, with eyes darting like you regretted speaking too loudly in church.

He noted the way you bit your lip, then tried to backtrack. The fumble of your fingers, the way you kept glancing away like maybe if you looked somewhere else long enough, time would rewind itself and un-say what you’d said.

Cute. He found you cute.

He’d catalogued emotions a thousand times. Studied expressions for lies, eyes for betrayal, postures for threat.

But yours didn't fit any category.

And then came the dump.

The babble of a girl who knew too much. Who said names like passwords, dropped references like prophecy.

At first, he assumed you were delirious. Shell shock, maybe. Madness. The kind that comes after a concussion, you did appear out of nowhere from the sky.

But the more you spoke, the more specific it all became.

You told him he was a character. That you had played through this world, and he was at the center of it.

He didn’t believe it.

But the clarity of your voice, the ache in it, the precision with which you whispered names—it didn’t match a lie. It matched conviction.

He stored it. Like a tracker tagging something rare. Slid the information into a mental folder and filed it next to things he wasn’t supposed to understand yet.

Later. He’d circle back to it later.

He watched as your body began to tremble. As you sank into yourself, shoulders hunched, head bowed like the weight of this world and the other one you came from had finally crashed together.

“You’re still alive, see,” Rover finally spoke, making you look up at him from your knees. He crouched down beside you again.

“Let me help you. We should definitely go somewhere safer. The forest is filled with TDs.”

Offering you his hand again, he watched as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.

“I’ll ask Zani to accommodate a place for you to stay. It seems you’ve lost your way.”

You blink rapidly. Rover watched you with a calm, unreadable gaze, waiting for you to take his hand. It seemed you had finally calmed down—or perhaps he’d distracted you—because the last trembles of your meltdown were fading.

“So,” he said, voice smooth like worn velvet, giving you a small smile. “What is your name?”

You, still high off panic and full simp-mode, blurted, “You can call me your wife.”

Instant regret. Your eyes went wide. “Wait, I didn’t mean—I mean—I don’t mind if you do, but I didn’t mean to—oh god, I’m making this worse—sorry—ah, I’ll stop!”

You buried your face in your hands, wanting the ground to open up and swallow your simp soul. “Forget I said anything. Please.”

Rover couldn’t help the amused glint in his eyes. He wanted to test something. The edge of his voice dipped, smooth and amused, just enough to tilt the world sideways.

“...Would you tell me your name, or should I start calling you ‘my wife’ ?”

You squealed internally. Your soul left your body. Your mind short-circuited. “That would be nice,” you said in a dazed whisper.

Rover chuckled softly. You were quite fun to tease.

Your eyes flew open. “Ah! No! I mean—sorry! My name is [Name]!”

You finally took his hand as he helped you stand. You let go quickly, already embarrassed and internally cringing at your slip-ups. You wanted to keep your fangirling side locked up, so you took a step away from him.

“I’ll guide you back to Ragunna City and help you settle,” Rover said, already walking ahead.

You stayed frozen in place.

Noticing you weren’t following, Rover glanced back. “Stay close,” he said calmly.

Startled, stumbling a bit before quickly jogging to catch up, falling into step beside him.

Oh god. You are so fucked.

You and Rover have been walking for… you don’t even know how long. Not to mention, as you two were walking out of the forest, there were so many TDs that attacked. Thank god Rover took care of all of them, and you were happily cheering him on from the back.

The misfortunate situation is not lost on you, knowing how your luck is, you were kinda expecting to run into more trouble after that. But this journey so far has been peaceful, and now you really don’t want to jinx it.

Oh, thinking about how peaceful it is might jinx it. I should stop. You shake your head to dispel the thought.

The weather’s nice too. Sunny, but not too much. The clouds, thick, cottony ones, hide the sun occasionally. Just the right kind of sky to take a walk and touch some grass.

Reaching a set of stone stairs, you notice a Resonance Nexus nearby. Rinascita Nexuses are shaped like the lower part of a fish’s tail, it’s unique. And on your left side… is a cave. A very dark one.

“Do you know this place?” Rover’s smooth voice comes from just beside you, making you snap out of your daze.

“Umm… I don’t know much of the map of Rinascita since I just started playing and then got dumped here. Well, I already know about the port part, where Brant and his crew leave you and then you meet Zani. I think… My memory’s a little fuzzy. Wait, no! You meet Phoebe first… now that I think more about it, you meet an NPC called Cristopopo. No, um… what was his name?”

You ramble on, words slipping faster than your common sense.

“Cristoforo…” Rover answers, his eyes narrowing as he watches you with a sharpened gaze. “How did you know all this?”

At first, he chalked off your ramblings as a possible concussion response. But now? You know how he arrived here. Who he met. Too much, actually. All of this is starting to feel very suspicious.

“Because I was the one behind the screen, Rover!” you chuckle, then pause.

Wait…Your brain stutters. Shouldn’t I be hiding the fact that I know too much? I’ve seen enough isekai anime to know this is a red flag move.

“Oh shit…” You slowly meet Rover’s gaze and smile as innocently as possible. “I am a normal human… who’s a little crazy. Yep! I think I actually got a concussion by falling from the sky! Weird… hahaha…”

You laugh nervously, trying to lighten the mood, where was your common sense when you needed it the most?!

But those golden eyes, glint with something unreadable. The air suddenly feels thick with tension.

Rover nods slowly, and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “This is the way to the city square.” he says, pointing toward the cave.

…?No way. If you remember correctly, this actually leads to the Cathedral—the Order’s base.

Still, you follow him into the cave. He walks a few steps ahead while you lag behind. It’s dim, lit only by candles on either side, on the ground, shadows licking the stone walls. The air is cold and damp.

It’s so dark that if someone were to murder anyone in here… no one would know.

You chuckle to yourself.

Imagine if Rover brought you here to murder you because you’re suspicious. Hahaha… funny.

Rover pauses mid-step as if he heard that thought.

You freeze.

He turns to look at you and you swear his eyes are glowing.

“There are stone stairs up ahead. I think I should guide you from here, knowing how you can trip unprompted.” he says, offering his hand.

Aw, how nice! But wait, did he just make fun of you?

Eh, whatever. You can’t focus on that when Rover just remembered something so trivial about you! Your heart does a little flip as you take his hand without hesitation.

He helps you walk down the stairs, and the cave opens into a half-balcony area. From here, you can see the structure of the place more clearly.

There’s an opening to your left where the stairs lead down to a wide area with a fountain in the center. Another balcony lies to the right, and what looks like an elevator structure stands to the left.

Oh! you know this place.

“Rover! This is the Cathedral area, not the city square. The elevator leads down to the entrance of the Cathedral and…”

You walk to the balcony that overlooks the Cathedral’s massive dome.

“And I remember doing an Echo Challenge: Flight VI here!”

You turn to face Rover. “So why did you—” Your voice dies inside your throat as you see the look on his face.

He’s smiling, The I-just-confirmed-my-suspicion kind of smile.

And he looks so hot.

“…you know a lot more than you let on,” he says, casually.

You raise both your hands in surrender. “Look, I’m from another universe who got dropped into this one out of nowhere! And then I met my future husb—”

Rover raises an eyebrow. You panic and pivot mid-sentence.

“I mean, I told you everything I know! I’m no threat! I can’t even fight or anything!”

You’re really selling this like a bad NPC, and the delivery is getting desperate. A true Oscar performance.

Rover nods again, as if still processing your info. Then he lifts his chin toward the landscape. “That’s Ragunna City. But you already know that, don’t you?”

You look out across the scenery. In the game, it’s beautiful but in real life? It’s stunning.

“Are we gonna take the elevator, then a boat to the city?” you ask, excited.

“No,” Rover says. And suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you.

You gulp.

His eyelashes are so long. His lips look kissable as hell

Focus!

“—Ready?”

“Huh?”

Before you can even process it, Rover’s hand wraps around your waist and pulls you close as he jumps off the balcony.

His Flight wings appear just in time, catching the wind, and the two of you are soaring through the air. The wind rushes past you, your heart threatening to beat right out of your chest.

Down below, the city opens up in all its glory. It’s breathtaking.

Rover lands gracefully on the city square, letting go of you immediately. You wobble, regaining your footing, eyes wide.

“You should’ve warned me first!” you exclaim. “But that was awesome! It’s such a bummer you can only use this utility in Rinascita and not in Huanglong.”

Rover frowns slightly, but then smirks. “I did tell you we were about to fly down to the city square.” He leans closer to your eye level. “Seems like, you were lost in that head of yours.”

Ugh. This man. Why is he so……illegally attractive?

Ragunna City in all its glory, where the architecture immediately captivates with its harmonious blend of form and function. Buildings rise in warm hues of beige, ivory, and terracotta, their facades adorned with intricate carvings and ornate balconies that seem like something straight out of a dream.

Canals weave through the city like veins, crossed by arched stone bridges that connect various districts. Along these waterways, colonnaded walkways provide shaded paths, their columns supporting overhanging terraces lush with greenery.

"Wow!" You’re blown away by how breathtaking the city is. “It’s about time Zani called…” Rover murmurs just as his terminal rings.

“Unfortunately, bad news, I did connect with the places around, but there aren’t any rooms available in any of the hotels in the city,” Zani says over the call. Rover had asked her if she could arrange a room for you.

What surprises you more is that Rover didn’t mention a single thing about how he found you, where you're from, or any of your wildly suspicious ramblings. He simply stated you were someone important to him and that Zani should treat you like she treats him.

Weird… but you don’t dwell on it.

“I’ve told some of my people to keep searching. This is uncanny to say the least,” Zani continues, and Rover hums in response.

“If we can’t find anything,” Rover says, turning his gaze to you and calling your name, “you can stay with me.”

You blink. Spending a night with Rover? In a room? Alone?! Count me in.

After the call ends, you’re busy ogling the streets—your eyes wide as you try to soak everything in.

“Would you like to look around the city?” Rover asks, voice smooth as silk.

“Can we?! Don’t you have to, like… go meet the head of the Montelli family? Maybe a certain troop of fools to plan the Carnival performance?”

There you go again, digging your own grave with the shovel. Might as well throw in a few flowers while you’re at it, because Rover is clearly locked onto you again.

“…”

“Ah—I would love to! Let’s look around the city!” you shout, immediately speed-walking toward the Tub Tacet Discord to distract him.

“Hey Rover, she is very suspicious…”

“Shh…Abby, now is not a good time.”

Rover simply follows, letting you lead the way, subtly steering you through the city like he’s indulging you… or observing. Either way, you're too thrilled to care.

The shops are narrow but deep, with arched doorways and canvas shades overhead. The lighting is dim but golden, bouncing off copper lanterns and polished wood counters. Markets are open-air, scattered through the city like hidden gems.

You’re definitely enjoying yourself. Doesn’t this feel like...a date?

And to think—your mother luck has finally shown up for you, because nothing bad has happened so far. This whole exploration? Solid 10/10.

“I won’t be coming back to the hotel tonight, so the room’s all yours. I have some things to take care of. We might see each other in the morning.” Rover says as the two of you finally arrive at the hotel he’s staying at.

Might…? You blink. Right, it’s probably the quest time. Maybe he’s off to meet the Troop of Fools or something. It is nighttime, after all.

“We won’t see each other in the morning?” you ask, the disappointment slipping out before you can stop it.

“Maybe, maybe not. It Depends.” Rover gives you a smile and with that, Rover walks off after handing you the room key.

You enter the room and plop onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. So tired. Your legs are aching like you walked across the entire map. Rolling back and forth on the mattress, you try to find a comfortable position.

“I wonder… why didn’t Abby appear when I met Rover? In the Rinascita quest, Abby was always out and about…”

With that final thought, sleep takes you, deep and heavy, completely unaware that, somewhere out there, you had already slipped beneath their skin, settled into their thoughts.

The next morning, you're already up and about, practically skipping through the sun-dappled streets of Ragunna City. How could you not? You're in the world of Wuthering Waves! The most logical thing to do? Soak in every glorious detail.

Well, after that nervous breakdown yesterday, you’ve come up with a brilliant idea—you're going to settle in Ragunna City, find a job, and live a comfortable life, far away from the wild and hostile Tacet Discords.

You gasp, the memory of the Phrolova fight and its breathtaking cutscene flooding back. Oh. My. God. You're so ready.

You race toward the gathering crowd, the air buzzing with anticipation. Brant sits atop a high platform. But where's Rover? Maybe he's with Carlotta, preparing for the performance.

Suddenly, red petals begin to drift from above, catching the sunlight as they fall. You look up, and there she is.

Phrolova.

Your heart skips a beat. The sky parts like a curtain, revealing a scene that's both eerie and mesmerizing. The atmosphere is tinged with an otherworldly aura, sending a thrill down your spine.

The crowd's cheers swell as Phrolova begins to speak, her voice resonating through the square. She gracefully settles onto a circular hoop suspended in the air, exuding an ethereal elegance.

It's about to begin!!!

You watch, enraptured, as Carlotta and Rover take the stage, battling wave after wave of Tacet Discords. Brant narrates the scene like a grand play, his words weaving the action into a captivating story.

The climax arrives with a burst of fireworks as Rover slices through Phrolova's wand with his scythe. He lands on the stage, the remnants of Phrolova's domain dissipating around him. A laurel materializes, crowning his head.

You're practically bouncing with joy. Witnessing this in real life is beyond anything you could have imagined. It's absolutely magnificent.

Suddenly, a feeling wraps around you like a hug, it's suffocating.

You feel Eyes on you.

You glance around and find Rover staring directly at you, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. There's something in his gaze, so unnerving.

Instinctively, you feel an urge to hide, to escape those hauntingly beautiful eyes.

Without thinking, you turn and weave through the crowd, slipping into the narrow alleys of Ragunna City, your heart pounding in your chest.

After the Carnival, Rover walks into the hotel, footsteps soft on the polished floors. He’s greeted instantly.

“Mister Rover, another room has been prepared for you. Here’s the key,” the receptionist says with a practiced smile.

He smiles back, taking it without a word, fingers curling around the cool metal. Once inside his suite, the door clicks shut behind him.

Not a single thought passed through his head, just the static buzz of your voice echoing in some unreachable corner of his mind.

With a heavy exhale, he dropped down onto the edge of the bed. he sat with both feet planted wide on the ground, knees spread, forearms resting atop them.

One hand slid through his hair, slow, rough, pulling at the strands like he could rake the thoughts from his skull.

“I’m in the fucking game.”

“Have you met Cartethyia yet?”

“Montelli family… yeah, you’re supposed to team up with Carlotta. There’s this whole bit where you join the Troupe of Fools? Fight against Phrolova but make it look like a carnival performance. And then you receive the Laurel from Cartethyia, the Maiden. You meet her when she is dancing on water.”

“Umm… I don’t know much of the map of Rinascita since I just started playing and then got dumped here. Well, I already know about the port part, where Brant and his crew leave you and then you meet Zani. I think… My memory’s a little fuzzy. Wait, no! You meet Phoebe first… now that I think more about it, you meet an NPC called Cristopopo. No, um… what was his name?”

“But that was awesome! It’s such a bummer you can only use this utility in Rinascita and not in Huanglong.”

“Because I am the one behind the screen, Rover.”

Your previous conversations loop around in that big brain of Rover's. He rests his chin on his clasped hands, elbows propped on his knees, eyes glued to the wall.

The pulse in his temple beats a little too hard.

“She said I’m a character,” he whispered, eyes narrowing. “This world isn’t real.”

A sharp breath rattled into his lungs as he closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly, as if listening to some whisper only he could hear.

“She knows Huanglong. She knows Rinascita. She talks like she has known me since the beginning of my journey...”

“I love you.”

The moment it replayed in his mind, something fractured beneath the surface.

Abby burst from the Tacet mark, crackling into the air with a spark of gold light. “What if all she’s saying is nonsense?”

It pouted when Rover didn't say anything. “Rover, don’t we have to meet Carlotta, Brant and Roccia for the celebration tomorrow? Let's just sleep!”

He didn’t move. His eyes were still on the wall, still seeing the shape of your smile in the cracks of the paint.

“Abby… what’s her frequency like?”

Abby blinked, startled by the question. “Eh? I mean—it’s normal. Kind of weirdly low, actually. But it’s got this… this vibe to it. Hard to explain.”

Abby floated in slow, thoughtful circles, frowning in concentration. “It just feels…”

Rover’s gaze finally broke from the wall, softening when turning to Abby.

“Out of this world!” Abby said suddenly, snapping its little paw-fingers. “That’s it!”

He nodded. “Otherworldly,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his voice dropped. “Can you absorb her?”

Abby jerked in mid-air, appalled. “Ew! No! She’s sweet! Like aggressively sweet! I’d get indigestion.”

A slow exhale left Rover’s mouth. He stood without another word, walking to the door, movement fluid, like the weight of his thoughts no longer held him down.

“Will we go to the party tomorrow?” Abby zipped after him, in an excited spiral. “Umm..where are we going?”

Rover nods, smiling softly at Abby. “Yes we will. For now I just need some fresh air.” Abby floats beside his shoulder. “What about the strange girl?”

He pauses at the threshold, a shadow stretching long behind him from the hallway lights.

“I must keep her close.”

You weave through the streets, your steps slowing to a casual stroll despite the frantic beat of your heart.

It felt like… no, you don’t want to finish that thought.

There’s no reason to. Rover would never—he’s gentle, thoughtful, the kind of man who's Carring and always waits for your answer. He’s your Rover.

The sun has long dipped below the skyline, shadows stretching like claws across the cobblestones. The streets are lit by eerie blue lamps, that give off that weird hypnotic sound.

The occasional flutter of a curtain from open windows, or the low creak of Ragunna City's buildings, the distinct sound of people are the only thing keeping you company, You have walked towards the empty part of the city.

You’re not walking with any direction, just letting your feet take you through the winding alleys, marveling at how this place feels so much like Rome. So beautiful, so rich with history and yet, so easy to get lost in.

The wind howls through the upper levels, curling around the rooftops like a predator circling in silence.

And then it hits you, that feeling. That dreadful, skin-prickling, breath-snatching feeling. Something is watching you.

You lift your gaze, heartbeat stalling.

Two glowing purple orbs, blink into existence atop a rooftop. They shift, jump, moving roof to roof, always staying just far enough to make you doubt…

but close enough that you know they’re watching. And they’re getting closer.

No. No, no, no.

One single word cuts through every thought Run.

And so you do.

You bolt through the city, panic clawing at your throat, your shoes skidding on the stone paths as you turn corner after corner, blindly sprinting down alleyways and corners that all look the same.

The wind behind you screams. You don’t dare look back. You don’t need to. The orbs are above you now, gliding overhead like phantoms. They’re keeping up, very easily.

Your lungs are burning. Your legs ache. But still, you run.

You make a sharp turn, too sharp and slam headfirst into something solid. You stagger back, the impact jarring your senses.

And in your dazed panic you hear the person in front of you whisper your name softly, Spoken like a question, and yet it cuts through your fear like a blade. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Rover!” you gasp, your voice a ragged mess of relief and exhaustion. “Oh thank god, Rover, I think I was being chased! There were these orbs, like, ghost things, jumping over rooftops!” You point up, frantic, your breath hitching.

But there’s nothing. Your outstretched finger trembles. You blink up at the empty rooftops.

Rover steps closer, brows furrowed with visible concern. “You didn’t return to the hotel,” he says, voice soft but serious. “I got a little worried…”

The way he says it, that makes guilt wrap tightly around your chest. You hadn’t thought about that. You’d gotten so swept up in the fear of getting away from him, but he was the only one who came to your rescue.

Before you can respond, a sharp, slightly indignant voice cuts in.

"Meh! She better have a good explanation! You wasted my precious time!"

Your heart leaps with recognition.

“Abby!!” you squeal, spotting the tiny, cat-like Echo floating indignantly beside Rover’s shoulder.

You lunge forward and scoop it into your arms before it can float away, smothering it in your excitement. “Oh my god, you're so fluffy in real life! You’re adorable! So cute!!”

“Let. Me. Go!” Abby grumbles, squirming and kicking its little limbs in protest. It floats upward with an angry wobble as soon as you loosen your grip, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

You pout. “Ok, ok sorry! I know I didn’t ask before hugging you but I got hit with cuteness aggression! You can’t hold that against me.”

The little Echo huffs and sticks its tongue out at you without missing a beat, you stick yours right back.

Rover watches the interaction in silence, noticing how easy it is to distract you.… but that earlier intensity still lingers at the very edges of his expression.

After that long, nightmare-like night, you returned to the hotel with Rover. Morning came too soon, walking out of your room you catch a glimpse of familiar dark fabric moving past you, Your heart jumps.

Quickly, You follow him along the hallway, Rover is already walking ahead, his silhouette framed by golden light from the lobby windows.

“Rover!” you call out, voice echoing softly across the corridor.

He pauses mid-step, turning just slightly. That warm, boyish smile spreads across his face—“Good Morning.” and that breathy softness of his tone. The kind that makes your chest squeeze painfully and your legs feel weak.

It’s stupid how fast he can do that to you.

You greet him back with enthusiasm, falling into step beside him, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. It's too early to be simping again, gotta make your brain think of something else.

“You know, I was thinking... I’m going to stay in Ragunna City. Maybe get a job, settle in a bit. That way I don’t have to run into any Tacet Discords...and honestly...I really don’t want to learn how to fight.”

Rover’s eyes flick toward you as he opens the front entrance of the hotel. The door glides smoothly, and he holds it open without a word, letting you step through first.

“That’s smart thinking,” he murmurs, and for a second, you swear there’s something weightier behind his tone.

Your heart does a flip. Rover just called me smart. He thinks I’m smart! Heh!

You glance up at him, beaming, but the smile on his face has vanished. He’s watching you now. A stillness in him, like the air before lightning strikes.

“But,” he says slowly, and starts walking again, now the two of you are walking down the streets. “You told me about what happened last night… and it sounds like Ragunna City might not be as safe as you think.”

You blink at him. “Wait… you believe me?” The shock is real, raw. You hadn’t expected him to take your words seriously.

He stops walking and Turns. His golden eyes meet yours, catching the sunlight just right, there’s a glimmer in them that feels too sharp to be soft, too intense to be gentle.

“Yes, I do,” he says, voice smooth, measured. “Every single word since we met… I’ve believed you.” He leans in slightly, lowering his tone to something quieter, something softer that curls beneath your skin. “You wouldn’t have a reason to lie to me. Right?”

There’s no threat in his voice. None at all. Only kindness. Too much kindness. It floods over you, sweet and heavy. You gulp.

But then you see it. That unwavering focus in his eyes. Like he’s not just hearing you but memorizing every syllable, and every feature of yours.

Still, your smile returns, hesitant but hopeful. He believed you, About the ghost. You weren’t crazy, and somehow that felt like everything.

“Yep! I was serious about that.” you say, a little breathless. “Thank you.”

Right then, his terminal buzzes.

But Rover doesn’t reach for it immediately, His eyes linger on you, longer than necessary, longer than what should be polite. like the interruption has offended him somehow.

Only when the buzzing repeats does he finally pick it up.

“Were you awake, Rover? I trust you had a restful sleep?” a woman’s voice purrs from the other end.

You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the squeal building in your throat, eyes going wide. Oh my god. It's Carlotta! This is it! This is where he goes to meet with Brant, Roccia. You're practically vibrating with excitement, quietly giggling into your hand like a lovesick person.

“Psst! What are you giggling about!?” a tiny voice snaps beside you.

You blink, turn your head and flinch. “Abby!? When did you get out of Rover’s Tacet mark? You’re still weak, you shouldn’t be out!”

Abby floats right into your face, squinting suspiciously. “You’re weird. You know things only me and Rover should know. I’m watching you.” It squints harder, doing the two fingers motion from its eyes to yours, then promptly zips back into Rover’s Tacet mark like a gremlin vanishing into shadow.

The call ends with a soft beep.

Rover turns back to you, but there’s something unreadable in his gaze, like he’s thinking too much. Or not thinking at all. “Don’t mind Abby,” he says. “Would you like to come with me?”

You blink. “Where?”

He raises an eyebrow, as his lips quirk up slightly. “You already know the answer. So why ask?”

You huff, flustered, watching as Rover turns his back to you, walking ahead with a casual confidence. Like he already knows you’ll follow.

The space you arrive in is open and tastefully decorated, big plush couches arranged around a low table, soft lighting casting warm glows over the area.

And your breath catches.

Because there they are—Brant, Carlotta, and Roccia. In the flesh. Living, breathing, talking. Not just pixels or dialogue boxes. You practically light up, your eyes going wide and sparkling like you’ve stepped into a dream made real.

You barely register the soft click of Rover’s boots behind you.

He watches you. Watches the way your mouth parts just a little in awe, the way your body angles forward in excitement.

He drinks in every detail like he’s parched...

but it’s not enough. Because for the first time since you met… you’re not looking at him.

You’re looking at them.

And he doesn’t like it.

Not one bit.

There’s a weight in his chest, something sharp and unfamiliar. A prickling tightness blooming behind his ribs like thorns.

He clears his throat softly, a warning disguised in civility.

You blink, glancing back at him. He’s smiling But something in his eyes is off.

Rover gestures toward the trio and some other people from the troop of fools with a tilt of his head, silently urging you forward. You step ahead with a nervous bounce, and he trails just behind you.

His eyes never leave you.

Not even for a second.

“Raise your glasses! Shout it loud, friends! To us! To the carneval! And to our very own Laureate!” Brant cheered, his voice a bit too loud and his steps more than a little wobbly. He looked absolutely wasted, swaying on his feet as he raised his drink high into the air with a proud grin.

You paused, standing just a few feet away from him, trying not to let your expression reveal the internal screeching happening inside your head. Rover stepped forward slightly, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours. “Please, stop,” he murmured. “You’re making me feel embarrassed.”

Brant gave Rover a sloppy, closed-eyed smile, completely unbothered by the scolding. Then his gaze shifted and landed on you and he lit up like a firework. “Oh! The Laureate's Maiden!” he exclaimed, voice cracking with excitement as he stumbled a little. “You were the one Rover left so early for, aren't you?”

He extended his drink toward you in a cheerful toast, and you froze. Your heart practically stuttered at the title, ‘Laureate’s Maiden.’ The words echoed in your mind like a prophecy.

Rover said nothing. He only lifted a hand to his forehead while shaking his head.

Carlotta’s sharp, observant eyes flicked toward you in curiosity. Meanwhile, Roccia leaned in toward her and whispered, “He’s drunk again,” before offering you a small, apologetic smile, in her shy demeanor.

You were losing your goddamn mind.

You stood there, barely holding it together, silently screaming. You were watching Brant be an absolute mess, Roccia being adorable, and Carlotta giving you the “I see you” stare. And then it hit you again how real everything is.

Your inner fangirl was one step away from combusting.

You felt it building up—your excitement almost boiling over your lips.

A hand wrapped around your wrist.

Your head snapped up, eyes locking with Rover’s. His face didn’t betray much, but the look in his golden eyes was enough—sharp, steady, and entirely too aware of what was happening inside you.

Somehow, he knew.

That you were about to slip, about to fangirl out loud and shatter the whole illusion. You didn’t even get how, but he caught it. As if he was tuned to your every breath.

You swallowed your squeal and took a deep, steadying breath. Then gave him a small, sheepish nod.

But he didn’t let go of your wrist and you could feel it in the pressure of his touch, the way he refused to release you.

Carlotta’s gaze softened, her attention drifting from Rover’s hand on you to your expression.

She smiled, and looked down for a moment, then patted the empty space beside her on the couch. It wasn’t direct, no announcement or fanfare, but the invitation was clear in her casual, elegant way. Just a subtle gesture, as if saying; Come sit. Let’s talk. You’re welcome here.

Carlotta rose gracefully, lifting her glass with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. “A toast, everyone!” she called, her voice ringing clear across the space. “drink freely and celebrate without restraint—everything’s on me.”

A ripple of cheers followed, glasses raised, laughter blooming in the air like fireworks.

You giggled to yourself, heart warm, eyes sparkling as the atmosphere buzzed around you. Slipping from Rover’s grasp—fingers parting with a reluctant drag—you moved to sit beside Carlotta on the plush sofa, feeling a soft thrill.

Carlotta turned to you, her expression calm but kind. “Welcome,” she said smoothly, folding one leg over the other. “You’re Rover’s special person. You’ll be treated as such.”

Your chest gave a small, involuntary flutter. You blinked at her, caught off guard by her directness. “Ah—Thank you! Um… but I don’t know about being special…” Your voice trailed into a mumble as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks heating. “I want to be, though…”

Carlotta tilted her head, repeating your words with an airy lilt, “You’re not?” a flicker of relief, so subtle it almost slipped past you.

Before you could open your mouth and spill something mortifying —your unfiltered thoughts like, ‘Rover's fingers felt like silk ropes and I think I stopped breathing for three seconds’—a sudden shift interrupted.

Rover moved, Just strode forward and sat himself directly between you and Carlotta, his body sliding into the space. His shoulder pressed lightly against yours, and you had no choice but to scoot slightly to the side—caught off guard by the smoothness of the maneuver.

Carlotta blinked in mild surprise, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Your own eyes widened too. The tension was brief but palpable, like the quiet before a lightning strike.

Carlotta adjusted her posture with ease and offered no protest. She simply redirected the flow of conversation, her tone shifting into something professional as she began discussing details about the event.

Rover and Carlotta kept talking, their tones low and deliberate as Roccia chimed in now and then. You stayed quiet, content to observe. but the heat at your side was impossible to ignore.

Rover’s leg brushed against yours, now settled there, beside yours. His hand settled near his knee, close enough that you felt the weight of it, even without touch. There was less to no distance between you two.

Whatever that gesture meant, it was received. Even the Order’s acolyte, who was spying from afar noticed it.

No one would approach you. Not now. Not with him right there.

It would be reported to Primus, an unexpected detail they’d soon turn into a calculated advantage.

You’re alone again.

The wind cuts soft against your skin as you stand on the balcony—that balcony. The one Rover brought you to the cave opened up into a place, Order's Cathedral.

He got summoned by the Primus. Some urgent request, diplomatic bullshit. You didn’t want to go inside. So you told him you’d wait here—where it all began. Where you both first touched Regunna’s sky.

The elevator hums behind you.

Ding.

“Excuse me, Miss. Are you with Rover?”

You blink, caught mid-thought. When you turn, you find an acolyte standing just a few feet away, the fountain splashing steadily behind him.

“Yes?” you say slowly, confused. Why the hell is one of them talking to you?

“With the Primus’ request, we’d like to give you a tour of the Order’s wildlife.”

Huuuh!?

You stare at him, deadpan. “Does Rover know about this?”

He doesn’t answer, Instead, his hand appears from behind his back, holding out a bouquet. A beautiful one. Flowers in shades that don’t exist in Regunna’s natural palette, arranged like a bribe wrapped in silk.

“For you, my lady,” he says with a thin smile. “A gift from the Primus. As a welcome.”

Huuuuuuuhhhhh?!

You feel your social anxiety flare like a damn solar flare. You grab the bouquet on instinct just to make this weirdo stop looking at you. The scent hits you immediately—sweet, heady, with something underneath, Faint and Strange.

Rot?

No. It’s not bad. Just…

“Would you please follow me?”

You don’t want to.

You don’t want to.

You want to ask more questions. Call Rover. Push this guy into the railing and run. But your body… it’s moving. Feet light, legs slow, floating forward.

The bouquet trembles in your hands.

Your throat tightens. “Ro...ver…” you try, but your mouth opens soundlessly. Not a whisper, not a wheeze. Nothing.

Inside, you’re screaming. You are begging for your voice. For control of your body.

Help me.

But all you can do is follow.

You’re in a field now.

Wide, open, The sky is dimmer here. Or maybe you’re imagining it. You blink—your vision sharpens. The man’s walking away, saying nothing. His silhouette fades into the distant treeline like he was never there.

And just like that, you drop the bouquet.

It hits the ground with a soft thump, and suddenly—it’s like you can breathe again. Like some part of your soul just clawed its way back into your chest.

Your hands shake.

“That bastard,” you hiss, furious. You want to run back, grab someone—anyone—by the collar and scream at them, What the fuck was that?!

But… who would believe you?

Then a voice, warm and steady, echoes in your memory.

“Every single word since we met… I’ve believed you.”

Rover.

Your breath hitches. Yeah. He would believe you.

But first, you need to get the hell out of here.

You spin around, scanning the field. You don’t even know where you are. There’s grass. Rocks. A distant shimmer of trees. You have no idea which way is back to the city. And of course, the second you realize how alone you are, The air shifts.

It gets cold. And then you hear it. Skittering. Growling. Clicking. Then, like stars in a nightmare sky, they appear—one by one. Tacet Discords...At least twenty of them.

All shapes. All sizes. Some teddy bear like. Some Grotesque silhouettes against the horizon—elongated limbs, blinking eyes, wet jaws, razor-wings.

The air hums with primal danger.

Your heart drops straight into your gut.

“Nonononono! fuck me sideways...” you breathe, taking a shaky step back.

Then they move, Fast. All at once. You run.

There’s no plan. No direction. Just sheer, animal panic. You dodge a spiked tail that slams into the ground where you stood a second ago. The impact makes the earth tremble, and you scream—loud, raw.

Your luck is absolute shit—no, scratch that, it's cosmically cursed. You were having such a good time.

And now? Thrown into this mess.

Funny how things go to hell the moment Rover isn’t by your side. When he’s around, your luck feels blessed, like the universe has your back. The second he’s gone? Boom—chaos and now apparently a welcoming bouquet laced with “fuck-you” energy.

Branches whip at your arms as you dive into whatever passes for cover here—rocks, shallow dips, ruins of something ancient and forgotten. You keep going, because stopping means dying.

You trip once. Twice. A claw nearly catches your ankle. You don’t look back.

Your legs burn. Your lungs are begging for mercy.

Your brain is just screaming: You’re going to die here.

You’re not built for this. You never trained. You’re not a Resonator. You don’t belong in the middle of a Tacet Discord bloodbath.

All you have is your decent sense of sarcasm, and what you hope is enough spite to fuel your survival.

“Great!” you shout breathlessly. “This is fantastic! You guys didn't even ask me on a date and now I’m on the fucking menu?!”

A Tacet Discord shrieks behind you in response. You scream back, middle finger raised in pure survival-mode insanity.

They’re everywhere. Every direction you turn..You can't outrun them. You know that.

But you’ll damn well try.

Because dying like this—alone, devoured in the dirt like trash?

Not on your list of acceptable Tuesday activities, wait is it Tuesday here? Nevermind.

And if you’re going down... at least one of these freaks is gonna have indigestion afterward.

The air is thick with dread.

Your legs are jelly, lungs burning, and the cacophony of Tacet Discords closing in is deafening. Each breath feels like a countdown to oblivion.

Suddenly, a blinding light pierces the gloom.

A shockwave erupts, sending Tacet Discords flying like ragdolls. The ground trembles beneath you, and for a moment, the world holds its breath.

From the epicenter of the blast, a figure emerges—Rover.

But this isn't the Rover you know. His eyes blaze with an otherworldly light, and an aura of raw power radiates from him. The very air around him seems to bend, acknowledging his dominance.

He moves with lethal grace, each step purposeful. With a mere gesture, he summons ethereal weapons, dispatching Tacet Discords with surgical precision. The creatures, once so terrifying, have become his playthings.

His eyes glow—brighter than the stars, colder than space.

The frequency thickens around him like a cloak of shadows alive and hungry. His Spectro resonance still hums at the core, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat like a ticking bomb.

In a blur of movement, Rover twists—hand slicing the TDs clean and efficiently, like a surgeon cutting through rotten flesh.

More surround him. A pulse of Havoc ignites—Dark Surge expanding. He warps forward, vanishing for a half second—then reappears behind them mid-spin, hurling his scythe from both hands. The Tacet Discords shudder before collapsing, torsos sliced clean.

You blink—and two more Tacet Discords have already fallen. You can’t even see how he did it.

You sigh in relief but damn it, he looks terrifyingly hot. That dark gleam in his eyes, the effortless precision, the sheer dominance in every move…

Yeah, you’re shaken, but a part of you? Still hopelessly down bad.

The adrenaline drains from your body like a snapped string. You can finally let go, but your limbs tremble uncontrollably. Now that the fear has passed, your body finally realizes just how close you came to dying.

A sharp crunch pulls your attention up.

Rover steps forward, walking toward your crouched form with slow, steady steps. The ground doesn’t quake beneath him anymore, and that unbearable frequency that had screamed around him moments ago has vanished. The pressure lifts.

Your Rover is back.

You wrap your arms tightly around yourself, heart pounding like a war drum as you watch him approach. He crouches in front of you, and for a moment, it’s like déjà vu—just like when you first met. That same soft smile curves his lips, like the battlefield around you doesn’t exist.

He extends a hand.

That’s it. You can’t hold it in anymore.

Tears spill over your cheeks—hot, heavy, unstoppable. The sob rips from your throat before you can even stop it. You were going to die. You were so close to being torn apart and—

You don’t even register him moving until his arms are around you, pulling you into a firm, grounding hug.

You bury your face in his chest, fists clutching the undershirt beneath his jacket like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.

One of his hands moves slowly over your back, tracing calming circles. The other cradles the back of your head gently, like you’re fragile glass and he’s terrified of cracking you.

And in that moment, you feel safe. Safe like never before. Not because the danger is gone.

But because he is here.

Your sobs have finally faded to sniffles. You rub your puffy eyes, shifting just a little away from his chest but still firmly in his embrace.

“I actually thought I was going to die,” you mutter, voice scratchy. “Like! I know I broke my personal record of staying alive for a week, which is amazing, but I still didn’t wanna die, you know?”

Rover hums softly, his gloved fingers gently threading through your hair. The motion is rhythmic, soothing. “You’re still alive,” he says, voice calm and warm. “See?” And there it is, that smile. Soft. Sweet. Heart-melting.

You’d fight twenty more Tacet Discords for that smile. Urm… hide behind him while he fights.

“Yeah… thanks to you,” you reply, trying to gently pry yourself from his hold.

Keyword: try.

His arms don’t budge.

“Rover… I think I��m okay now,” you laugh awkwardly. “We can head back to the city?”

You’re not sure why it came out as a question but somehow, when it comes to him, you feel like you need permission to even breathe.

Rover finally nods and lets go, though his eyes linger on you, scanning, calculating, checking every tiny tremble in your limbs.

You stand beside him, brushing dust off yourself as he steps ahead, leading the way. The silence is easy… until he speaks, like it’s casual small talk.

“I met with Primus. Can you guess what happened?”

He’s smiling, but... something’s off. You glance down and see his fists clenched so tight.

“Oh yeah!” you perk up, totally missing the tension. “I remember that quest—kind of. Doesn’t he like, talk in riddles about ‘The Maiden’ or whatever?”

You ramble, voice light and airy now, blissfully unaware that your words aren’t answering his question so much as distracting yourself.

“Mostly accurate, but he mentioned you as well. And threatened me, indirectly.”

You don’t notice how Rover’s gentle tone shifts—how frustration slips into the spaces between his words, how tightly he’s reining it in.

“Wait! Wait! Wait, what?! Am I ruining the plot?!” you blurt, wide-eyed. “No way! I don’t wanna get involved, nope. Rover, can you like—send me to Jinzhou? That place is super peaceful right now and it’d be perfect for me to start a new life in. Like then I won't have acolytes luring me into a place filled with Tds...”

Rover stops walking. There’s so much in your words that bugs him. The way you talk about leaving like it’s that simple...like he could ever let you go.

“So,” he mutters, as if confirming something to himself, “that’s what happened…”

Then louder, firm enough to cut through your spiral. “It’s okay. Nothing will happen to you.”

And he says it with such unshakable certainty, it doesn’t feel like reassurance, it feels like a threat to the universe itself. this is his vow to you.

You exhale. “Thank you…” The walk continues, and there’s a light brush of Rover’s hand against yours.

You hesitate, then test it, fingers creeping toward his, shy and slow. Like you’re asking a question without words.

And rather quickly, Rover answers.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, firm and grounding. No hesitation. Just his hand, holding yours, like he’s always meant to.

You grin to yourself, giggling inwardly like a little gremlin. Heheh, holding hands before marriage. How scandalous.

Well, you muse dramatically, we’ve held hands before… but this is different. This is sacred. Because I initiated it.

You beam with inner pride, your silly little heart puffing. Because yes, this moment matters. Because yes, you’re holding your husband’s hand.

Husband as in: you married him in your daydreams. Details, details.

As you and Rover entered Ragunna City again, you were immediately met with Carlotta. it seemed like she had been waiting for the two of you.

“Rover!” she called out, striding toward you both. Her expression brightened, then faltered the moment her gaze landed on you. Concern twisted across her face like a storm cloud. “Are you okay?! My goodness...”

“It was the Order,” Rover replied, his tone calm but clipped. Then, turning to Carlotta, he made a quiet request—asking for her help. His eyes found yours again. “I need to take care of something. Carlotta can be trusted, don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Your hands were still interlocked—his grip firm, grounding. Then, with a final squeeze, he let go and walked away, his figure disappearing like a tether snapping loose.

You turned to Carlotta, awkwardly brushing back your disheveled hair. “Um… sorry for how I look? I feel like I offended you somehow.”

Carlotta blinked, clearly startled. “No, no! Please, be at ease. As I said before—Rover’s special person will be treated with the utmost care and respect. Please, follow me.”

She led you to her estate and provided a guest room stocked with fresh clothes. After a soothing shower and a change into soft, clean fabric, you collapsed into the bed like a soul exorcised of fatigue.

It wasn’t long before a gentle knock on the door pulled you from your nap. “Come in!”

Carlotta entered, a composed smile on her face, followed by a butler carrying a silver tray. Your mouth practically watered on reflex. The far end of the room revealed a small table and chairs. The butler wordlessly placed the tray down and exited with the elegance of a ghost. Carlotta gestured for you to sit with her, settling into one of the chairs with regal ease.

You took the seat across from her, and she offered you a genuine smile. “Don’t mind me. Please, dig in.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. The food was warm and familiar, like a safety blanket in edible form.

Finally relaxed, your guard temporarily down, you decided to bring up the thought that had been gnawing at your mind.

“So, I was thinking of going to Jinzhou. You know, that city in Huanglong...”

Carlotta tilted her head with interest, eyes glinting. “May I ask why?”

“I don’t feel safe in Ragunna City after the...” you hesitated, poking at your food, “You know... and Jinzhou is, like, very peaceful right now. A perfect place to not get attacked by anything!”

Carlotta nodded, leaning back and folding one leg over the other with the poise of a queen. “I can help you with that. Arrange transportation. I’ll make sure you arrive safely and are well taken care of once you’re inside the city.”

You gasped, hand pressed to your chest dramatically. “Omg! You would do that? Thank you so much!”

Carlotta nodded, her smile never faltering but her eyes held something calculating beneath the warmth. Of course, she had her own reasons. She was a woman of business, after all. And every investment had its return.

Carlotta had escorted you back to the hotel after receiving a message from Rover—he wouldn't be able to pick you up himself. You didn’t think much of it. Maybe he got caught up in something.

You made small talk with Carlotta.

Once you reached the hotel entrance, you turned to her with a small smile.

“Thanks... for walking with me. And for, well, everything,” you murmured, scratching your cheek awkwardly.

Carlotta smiled, her gaze softening. “Of course. Take care of yourself.”

You waved her goodbye, entering the building and making your way up the stairs, shoes clicking softly against the polished floor. As you reached your floor, something odd caught your eye. You noticed a door, just beside yours, was slightly ajar.

Curiosity won over common sense, and like the nosy little gremlin you were, you peeked.

And immediately regretted it. Who are you lying to? You didn't regret it a slightest bit.

Rover stood inside, his back to you, just as he was taking off his jacket. Then came the gloves, tossed onto a nearby chair. The strap across his chest followed, sliding off in one smooth motion. Then he reached for the hem of his shirt. That clingy, perfectly-fitted grey undershirt. He was halfway through tugging it off when your soul panicked.

You panicked, raising your fist and knocking loudly. Your eyes widened. Your cheeks caught fire.

Rover turned his head slightly, catching you in the corner of his eye, shirt now caught at his ribs, he lets go of it.

Your face flushed immediately.

He looked unfairly good like this—hair slightly tousled, collarbone peeking out, that necklace glinting against his skin like a silent warning.

“Oh, you’re back... safe and sound.” he said, voice dipped in honeyed relief. His eyes roamed over you, then lingered just a second too long. “Good.”

You cleared your throat and stepped inside like a guilty cat caught knocking over a vase. “I—uh—y-yeah, I just—sorry, I didn’t mean to peek or anything, I just—your door—it was open and—uh—” You were absolutely malfunctioning. “Your shirt is committing war crimes.”

Rover chuckled softly and didn’t press it. His smile was warm, and yet something about it felt strained, like there was static just under the surface. As he turned fully, the soft lighting dancing across his face, the shirt clinging to his muscles.

You cleared your throat, You sat down on the arm of a chair, legs swinging slightly. You figured now was a good time to talk. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you... about something.”

He tilted his head, eyebrows lifting as he leaned against the table. “I’m listening.”

“So… I kinda had a conversation with Carlotta while I was stuffing my face with food. And, well…” you paused, watching his hands still, You smiled awkwardly. “So... I talked to Carlotta. And she said she could help me get to Jinzhou. You know, because Ragunna’s not exactly ‘let’s settle down and bake cookies’ levels of safe.”

Rover’s smile didn’t vanish—it simply froze, like a painted expression.

“Oh?” he said, with an almost imperceptible pause.

His tone stayed even. “And why would you want to go there?”

“Like I told you before..” You shrugged. “I don’t feel safe here. I mean, what happened in the field? That’s not something I want a round two of. And Jinzhou's got, like… zen energy. I can heal a bit. And I think... I need that. I think I’d feel better there. You could come visit too, of course.” You grinned at him, clearly trying to keep the conversation light, because the strange, tense atmosphere is becoming suffocating.

“I see,” Rover said softly. He took a step closer. “Leaving is the right choice?”

“I mean… yeah?” you answered with a sheepish grin. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d miss you. A lot. You’re like the world’s best emotional support. Like—seriously. Who gave you permission to look that good covered in dust?”

That got a small laugh out of him but the tension didn’t fade. His fingers flexed slightly at his side.

Then your eyes caught something, on the edge of his undershirt sleeve, just beneath the fabric...

Your heart jumped, Blood. A faint, dark smear near the hem of his shirt.

Your lightheartedness fizzled. “Wait… are you hurt?” You stood, frowning. “Did something happen?”

Rover tilted his head, then looked down like he’d forgotten the evidence on him. “No,” he said quickly. “Not my blood.”

That did not make it better. Not his? You blinked. “Then whose—?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said with a gentle smile, the kind that felt... wrong now. “You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

That strange calm in his voice made your skin crawl in the oddest way. You tried to shake it off. Your body stiffened instinctively.

After a pause, he looked at you again—this time softer, almost vulnerable.

“Will you stay?”

You hesitated. He waited. You shook your head slowly. “No. I mean, I care about you, and I have made that clear, I guess very clear… but I just don’t want to stay here anymore. It doesn’t feel right. I need space. Maybe you can come visit me in Jinzhou when you get a break or something?”

You smiled gently and stepped toward the door.

But it shut before you could touch the handle.

A hand pressed flat against the wood in front of you, and heat rushed down your spine. Rover was behind you now, close enough that you felt the weight of his presence in your bones.

“That,” he whispered, voice no longer gentle but absolute, “is not an option.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You turned your head slightly, only to find his face right there, cheek against your hair, mouth near your ear.

“I didn’t believe you at first,” he began, voice barely above a whisper. “When you said all those things. About me. About this world. I thought you were just being poetic. But I listened. Every word. Every little slip. You’ve known me since the beginning, haven’t you?”

You slowly turned to face him. His eyes weren’t wide with madness. No. They were too calm. Too lucid. And that was so much worse. You backed up slightly but there was nowhere to go, Your back pressing against the door.

“You talk like you’ve always known me. From the beginning of my journey. Every choice I’ve made...you understand it before I even speak…”

He exhaled a laugh—short, humorless. “I started noticing things after I met you. Things I shouldn’t notice. The way the world shifts around us. The way time bends. The way... none of it feels real anymore.”

You blinked. “What are you talking about—?”

“I see it now,” he breathed. “The repetition. The scripted kindness. The way people pause just long enough for you to speak. I am in a story. I wholeheartedly believe you now...And you…”

He leans closer, his elbow bending, caging you gently between him and the door.

“You are the only unpredictable thing in this world. The only one who looks at me like I’m more than lines of code. The only one that feels real. Because you are the only one anchoring me to the real world.”

You could hear the tremble building under his voice, like a crack in the earth before the quake.

“I started wondering—what am I? A character in a story? A game? Made for people’s amusement?”

His voice broke, briefly. “Am I real, or just code wrapped in skin?”

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat.

“You’re the only thing that makes sense now,” he continued. “You’re the only one who doesn’t glitch. The only one who talks like she’s seen me.”

“Rover—”

“No. Listen. Do you understand what that means?” His hand cupped your cheek—soft, reverent, yet trembling with obsession barely restrained. “You are my anchor. Without you, this world dissolves. Without you, I become... just another piece of fiction.”

His forehead pressed against yours.

“I don’t want to forget how your voice sounds. I don’t want to wake up and realize I imagined you. I don't want to go back to a loop where you never existed.”

You felt his breath tremble against your lips.

“I need to know that I’m not just a story you’ll get tired of.”

Your heart thundered in your chest—part fear, part something far too complicated to name.

“I fucked up...” you whisper to yourself, barely audible.

Rover smiles.

That soft, puppy-like smile. The kind that used to melt your heart, the kind that once made you believe he could never hurt you. The kind that now feels like a mask.

He steps away for a moment—only to hook his fingers around your wrist with a gentle tug, pulling you back. You stumble, breath catching, and the back of your knees meets the edge of the bed with a muted thud.

“I notice everything about you,” he murmurs. “The way you dote on me... those little moments? They don’t go unnoticed.”

He extends his hand—like he always has. From the moment you met until now, it has always been there, waiting. Waiting for you to take it.

And you always did. With no hesitation. Sometimes even with joy.

But now...

Now you hesitate.

His hair is slightly disheveled, a few strands falling into his eyes. There’s a faint smear of blood at the hem of his grey shirt—crimson staining cotton like paint across canvas. When he tilts his head, the necklace he always wears catches the light, swinging like a pendulum.

Even now, in this moment, he looks so...Beautiful. Unreal.

“Don’t you want to be my wife?” His voice is low, coaxing. “Why hesitate now...?”

He says your name like a lover's prayer. Or a spell. Like the idea of you slipping away is unbearable. And it makes you ache to take his hand again.

“You said you loved me. Remember?”

His eyes widen. The desperation in them is stark, unhidden, raw. Wild. Like a man teetering on the edge of a cliff and calling it faith. Like falling is a choice... and dragging you down with him is a promise.

Then, in a voice so quiet it makes your stomach twist.

“So prove it.”

Your breath stutters. He was patient. He gave you your space, didn’t he? Gave you time to think. To breathe. He waited...

But patience is fragile.

And even if you run, it won’t matter. he’s the main character of this world. He knows that. he knows this world bends to him.

You can’t escape.

Everyone loves him, adores him. They always will. He’ll use that love, twist it into a cage so soft you won’t even know you’re inside it.

He sees it now, your fear. Sees the way your body tenses like a trembling leaf. He exhales, slow and measured, and steps into your space until there’s nothing left between you.

“Jinzhou,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word. “You want to go there?”

You nod quickly, reflexively. Any wrong move could shift the moment. Could turn gentleness into something else entirely.

His hands lift, hovering in the air, waiting, Would you flinch? He would never do something that would push him away from you.

But you don’t flinch. You don’t move.

So he cups your cheeks with such tenderness it makes your skin crawl.

“There,” he whispers. “Relax. You can go to Jinzhou. I won’t stop you.”

You shiver. His voice is calm, but his eyes... those eyes aren’t the ones you fell in love with. They’re deeper now, darker, bottomless pits that don’t reflect light, only swallow it.

Because this world already belongs to me. I don’t need to lock you up to keep you.

“Don’t worry,” he soothes, fingers brushing along your jaw. “You’re safe. I’ll make sure of that.”

And you nod.

You lean into his touch because, in this world—whether you like it or not—he’s the only one who can protect you. The only one who won’t let you go.

Because This isn't pure love.

This is love born from obsession.

[minakooo]

Miss me?

Idol! Yunho x Roommate! Reader

A.N: BOOM THE YUNHO FIC THAT HAS BEEN ROTTING IN MY DRAFTS

And they were roommates who would occasionally cuddle with each other

Living with an idol did seem like a dream in the past. But now you realised it was actually hell. Yunho was always playing video games and he would always wake you up because he was shouting cause he lost the game. The only good part was that he was nice enough to give you food in return or take you to meet his attractive members.

You two have been roommates for a few years now. You've seen him in his vulnerability and Yunho has been there for you in your time of need.

Now that he's popular, he's been leaving home for his tours or any other event he needed to go too. The apartment was all yours and despite the fact it seemed nice it did get lonely. Today was no exception.

A sigh left your lips as you walked in and took your shoes off: it had been a long day at work. Your boss had you stay overtime and it took longer to find a ride because of the stupid rain.

The apartment was quiet, it seemed so weird because you were used to hearing Yunho shouting because he lost at his game. You placed your laptop bag down on the couch and untied your hair while walking to your bedroom.

Once you closed the bedroom door that's when you started to change. Unbuttoning your shirt and throwing away your pants before grabbing your towel and heading over to the bathroom since you needed a warm shower after being drenched.

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Yunho clicked his tongue surprised, letting out a 'Tsk', that you weren't here in the apartment. He came back from his tour a bit earlier than expected but he didn't mind. It wasn't like he hated performing but the fact he doesn't get to annoy you.

Maybe it's also the fact he did miss cuddling with you, though the guys have been telling him that him missing cuddling with you was suspicious. San and Wooyoung have made it their duty to tease Yunho making comments like "Oh, how's [name]? Don't you miss your girl?" Or "Aww, you sure you guys are just friends?"

He wouldn't lie, he knew he felt something for you he just didn't know how to explain it.

Moving to the present, Yunho went over to his bedroom and threw his suitcases and bags on the bed before he left out a sigh from exhaustion. "[Name] isn't here.. maybe they're in their room?" He muttered to himself as he changed out of his clothes and something more comfortable.

Once he was done he made his way over to your bedroom to check if you really weren't home.

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You were done with your shower and the exhaustion was hitting you harder than you expected. So with one quick move you laid down on your bed to get some rest.

You had no idea Yunho came back. He did tell you he would probably come back after three or four weeks which was a lot.

But as you close your eyes the sound of your door opening made you sit up in an instant. No one was home at least you thought no one was home so who was this?

"Sorry!" Yunho exclaimed as he saw the look of fear and shock on your face. "Uhm, surprise?" Yunho chuckled awkwardly as he walked over to your bed before he was roughly pulled in by you.

"When did you come back? Also, why are you even here?!" You questioned him because last you checked he wasn't supposed to be home. But you would be lying if you said you weren't happy he was home.

Yunho chuckled as he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you while he faced your direction.

"Yeah turns out there was some issue with the dates, the tour ended quickly. But what you don't want me around or something?" He faked a pout before he smirked as you playfully hit him. Yunho knew you missed him just as much as he missed you. He knew you were happy to see him.

"Yeah yeah, let's save the chit chat for later, Yuyu. I'm exhausted." You huffed and you didn't even realise the faint glimmer in his eyes when you said his nickname.

Yunho chuckled once more as he held you close before it died down low. The sound of the rain, your breathing, it was all so relaxing. He held you close and resisted the urge to nuzzle into as you drifted off.

It didn't take long for Yunho to pass out himself and there you two were. Roommates. Roommates that cuddle with each other. That miss each other dearly. The two roommates who enjoy each other's company more than friends would.

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FINALLY THIS IS OUT OF MY DRAFTS

[sketchthetofu]

Okay this probably just me going insane about Dakota or just being a hater which would suck bc :(((((( I don’t wanna be a hater :(((((( I just like the character too much :((((((( (probably just a pet peeve let’s be honest </3)

Why do people forget what Dakotas rooms throughout Prime Defenders actually look like. It’s so fricking important to me, bc like- I see fics and other things where people describe how Dakotas room looks like and it’s such a small detail but I can’t help but think every time “that’s not how his room looks. That’s not his room.” Bc it’s not!!! His room is not cluttered or full of knickknacks, he doesn’t have a bed frame or a ton of items and personality in his room. I would love for him to have a lived in room with gym acquirement and all of the nice things (BC HE DESERVES THEM….) but that’s just not how he is throughout PD.

His room is always from what I remember (aka the three times it has been described: old base, aunt Alaskas apartment, and the new base) described as empty, a Japanese inspired bed, his skateboard, maybe some comics and a poster or two, but other than that there’s nothing there, there’s no clutter and it doesn’t feel like he’s in there outside of sleeping. AND I FEEL LIKE THATS REALLY IMPORTANT TO HIS CHARACTER OKAY……. Bc your first thought when seeing or being introduced to him is that he has a lotta personality and is loud and out there! But his room doesn’t show that at all! And on top of that the time when Dakota brings William and Vyncent to Aunt Alaskas apartment really shows the contrast and you get that, “oh. Oh that’s why he’s like that.” FEELING!!!! BC NO WONDER HE DOESNT LIKE CLUTTER AND MESSES AND DOESNT WANT HIS ROOM LIKE THAT D:…..

Idk little details like this are really important to me- and this isn’t guilting people who have described Dakotas room like this!!! But like I said, it’s important to me bc it can give so much depth and perspective about how a character lives and how they interact with the world! Like how his room doesn’t feel cozy or lived in really at all, I mean it makes sense! He spent all his time before the fall doing parkour and soccer, he wasn’t around much, and when he was with the pd he was busy saving the city and training in their training room, he didn’t have time nor wanted time to be alone in his room. Anyway that’s it for your weekly “Sketch is feral about Dakota and thinks about him too much.” :D…. Feel free to tell me I’m wrong or yap to me about this <3…..

(This has been collecting dust in my drafts for a while bc I’ve been meaning to check my sources and listen to the eps that they describe Dakotas rooms in but I’ve been feeling oh so lazy…. So if I’m wrong pls tell me :3)

[youhavethewrong]

Spoiler-free Yuiview: The Hundred Line - Last Defense Academy

Super Mario 64. Undertale. Elden Ring. Every once in a long while, you get a game that makes people smack their head and go "of course! We have the technology to make this, why isn't this the industry standard?". A game whose mechanics, innovation, and use of the medium makes people realize that so much more is possible in video games than what is being currently done. A trend-setter, with lasting cultural impact that inspires people to push quality standards further.

I truly hope people realize The Hundred Line - Last Defense Academy is that game for the current generation.

As I mentioned in the title, this is going to be a spoiler-free review. I won't reveal any of the game's plot points other than the premise, and instead I'll focus on telling you what the game does well. I won't be able to give specific examples for some points, so you'll have to trust me on this one.

(I've earned your trust, right~?)

The protagonist of our game is Takumi Sumino, a teenager from the Tokyo Residential Complex - an underground city people have been living in for so long that they don't remember what the sky looks like. One day, the complex is attacked by The Invaders, monsters that seem intent on killing everyone for no apparent reason. Takumi meets Sirei, a little egg guy who gives him an infuser - a sword that when stabbed directly to his heart, allows him to gain the powers of Hemoanima and fight back.

(The cunty red eyeshadow comes free with the outfit)

After saving his friend Karua from the invaders, he suddenly loses consciousness and finds himself at Last Defense Academy, along with other people his age who have the same powers. There, they are tasked with defending the academy from the invaders for a period of 100 days.

From then on the game goes on to weave a narrative filled with twists and secrets. What's the purpose of the academy, and why are the invaders intent on getting inside? What happened to everyone back at the complex? Why were these random kids drafted into a war? And what exactly is behind the Undying Flames that surround the school?

(...but most importantly, what's the point of Sirei working out?)

Hundred Line is the brainchild of Kazutaka Kodaka, writer of the Danganronpa serie, and Kotaro Uchikoshi, writer of the Zero Escape series. In other words, a joint project between two writers with plenty of experience in mystery video games, working together at their prime. And it shows. The way in which the mystery is written in Hundred Line is nothing short of a masterclass. As the story progresses, questions continuously get answered while new ones are introduced. Each time you learn something new, it comes with the knowledge that there's more you don't know. It's a structure that keeps the player engaged, satisfied, and curious to know more throughout the entire game. The desire to unravel what's happening behind the scenes works as an intrinsic motivator that makes you want to keep playing just to find out the game's secrets.

(Why was he even given sweating functionality?)

The main gameplay mechanic is the battles you'll be engaging in every time the school is attacked. It works as a top down tactics game, taking place in a grid. You are given AP (which I can only assume stands for Action Points), which you can spend as you see fit to dispose of the enemy.

Now, keep in mind this is coming from someone who's tried and failed miserably to play multiple tactics games: this game is a REALLY good tactics game. It's easy to understand, and it gives you plenty of tools to master it. It also features some really clever quality of life design choices that help set it apart from other games in the genre.

For example, besides certain attacks doing extra damage to flying units, there's no such thing as weaknesses and resistances. Crucially, it also doesn't feature random chance. You can do an attack that does a specific amount of damage, and covers a specific range - and that's that. This keeps combat really clean, as you have a certainty that your moves will have the desired effect always.

("Damn it Takumi, hit your shots so we can move the plot forward and figure out how the cafeteria chef robots work already!")

Secondly, AP can be distributed however you want. It's not just one move per character. 5 AP allows you to either make 5 characters do 1 action each, or 1 character do 5 actions in a row. This, plus the facts that defeating each big unit gives you 1 AP and that ultimates don't consume AP, allow you an immense amount of freedom in your combat that let you perform absurdly long turns if you play your cards right.

(This player could, for example, heal Takumi so he can defeat more big guys in the long run. Or have Kyoshika use her high ATK damage that stuns her, heal her stun, and have her use it again. Or increase Kurara's movement so she can build more turrets. Or boost Yugamu's damage to defeat enemies around Kurara. Or-)

Each unit does a completely unique, super useful thing. Some specialize in defeating enemies quickly, some snipe, some boost, some build - and you're not even forced to use all of them. For example, I watched my friend Alice playing a mission I had already beat, and learned that we both had completely different playing styles. While I used Takumi to defeat large swaths of enemies at once and then fire ultimates, she focused on Eito's high single-target damage and boosts to loop enemies. Both strategies worked.

(If we get enough people playing this game, we might even find a use for Gaku!)

The non-tactics gameplay will also have you making important, meaningful choices. Will you hang out with characters to find out their secrets, and find out which gifts they prefer, allowing you to increase your grades? Will you spend that time studying? Will you go out and explore to get materials and develop specific characters? Will you train in VR to get more currency to unlock more abilities? For a VN tactics game, Hundred Line gives you an unprecedented amount of freedom to play it however you want.

(However you want, I tell you!)

I'm also a big fan of how gameplay connects with the storytelling. A character is a recluse that avoids fighting? Their gameplay will consist of tanking hits for the rest. Two characters depend on and protect each other? They get buffed when the other's in danger. And it goes beyond that - some of the game's plot twists are foreshadowed by combat abilities. This game is rife with the kind of twist that was staring you on the face since the start.

(For Spoiler reasons I can't show any specific examples of that, so please enjoy this game dialogue instead)

Now, one thing to keep in mind about this game: IT IS STRESSFUL AS FUCK. You know how Animal Crossing and the like are described as cozy games? Hundred Line might be described as a discomfort game. A looooooooot of bad things happen to these characters, and they rarely get any breathing room to relax. I don't think this is a negative, just a byproduct of how much the story hooks you in and makes you care about what's happening. I do, however, think it's worth mentioning, considering how many of the memes around this game revolve around how stressful it is to have free time.

(You know that feeling when something in your life sucks, but all you can do about it is wait? Welcome to the video game version of that.)

However, as stressful as this game can get, I still think it's one of the most unique experiences currently available in gaming. The tightness of writing, gameplay, and just overall experience are all of the highest caliber. Don't deny yourself a masterpiece of this scope, step out of your comfort zone!

(Oh, right. We haven't talked about the scope yet, have we?)

So, let's talk numbers for a second. The Hundred Line - Last Defense Academy has over 600 CGs, or "cutscene graphics" (those big drawings that cover the screen), over 2000 sprites (the character drawings), and more than 100 endings.

(Why are they like this)

The amount of content-... no, the amount of work put into this game is insane. This might sound absurd to some of you, but I truly believe Hundred Line, with its simple-to-understand gameplay and intriguing storytelling, is one of the highest standards for video games at this moment. It's what happens when development time isn't spent on massive maps, photorealistic graphics, or DLC, but instead to make the base game better and more complete. It's what happens when absurd levels of ambition and creativity meet tight execution and focus.

There's not much more I can add without spoiling what happens in the game, but I will say this: after reaching day 100 you will understand why my friend Alice said this as soon as she beat it

In conclusion, Hundred Line is not only one of the most ambitious but also one of the best games currently available. I heartily recommend it, it's been many years since a game has had me this engaged even when I'm not actively playing it.

If you wanna try it out without commitment, the free demo version of goes all the way up to Day 7, and you can transfer your save file to the full version if you wish to buy it later. It is such a good game that I honestly think denying yourself the experience would be doing yourself a disservice.

(Oh no, don't worry, the darkness is fine. I've just spent so many sleepless nights theorizing about Hundred Line that the light now hurts my eyes :) Wanna join me?)

[vanillahealer]

alright i have more thoughts on this

crk beast yeast ep 9 spoilers ahead

We all know—well, speculate—that Eternal Sugar turns Cookies into statues/sculptures, right? Well, I was thinking about a few lines.

[ Image ID: A screenshot of Pavlova Cookie from Cookie Run. A dialogue bubble is over him, in which he appears to be excited while speaking. It says, "Love will give you wings!" End image ID.]

This one just... seems innocent. Seems innocuous, like, yeah, sure. Love is a force that gives the Cookies of the Garden wings, or it's just a saying/metaphor that he's saying to promote his love powers or something. I was thinking, "Is getting turned into a statue/sculpture connected to the notion that Eternal Sugar stops loving a Cookie of the Garden?" The statues/sculptures in the decor still have wings, but I really really believe in the whole "it's sculpture, which means Eternal Sugar actively makes and changes the 'piece' to be more attuned to her vision," which in that case, of course she's going to add wings and smiles and all that. But to know that this might be what happens when you stop being loved..... And it won't even be her fault, either. It won't be Eternal Sugar Cookie's fault. It'll be the Cookie of the Garden that stopped loving her first's fault. There was a fanart that used this quote: "This hurts me (Eternal Sugar Cookie) more than it hurts you (Pavlova Cookie)." This really reminds me of that. (By the way, it WOULD be ES's fault. I'm just saying that above as a "This is how it will seem to the Cookies of the Garden" perspective.)

[ Image ID: Pavlova Cookie's "defeated" sprite, with him sitting on the ground with a tearful expression. His bow is on the ground next to him. End image ID.]

I saw this during an arena match and, honestly? At first glance, it looks like it's playing into the whole childishness first impression. But I think Pavlova Cookie is really emotionally mature. It's just..... when he shows anything other than Happiness TM, it's seen as childish or explosive (anger/being upset). He's desperately trying not to cry here in the defeated sprite. It makes me think how everything that isn't Happiness TM has been so pushed away from him and, as a result, dissociated from him. Once he actually feels said emotions, he has adverse reactions to them—And every part of them. The initial feel of said emotions, his reactions—both physical and mental—, his thoughts about how they shouldn't be affecting him or how he shouldn't ever not be happy... etc.

I want to point out these quotes from him: "...What is love?" "No hate, only love!" "Love is the answer to all!" "At times, love leads to hate..." "True love awaits you..." There's a lot here. A lot of... contradictions, to be honest. (After saving this post to a draft,) I actually saw a post by @/bloodypixels that had a similar analysis. I reblogged it and talked about most of these quotes. You can find it here [link] so I don't have to repeat myself haha The only one that I actually didn't talk about there is "...What is love?" My reblog above will sort of point in that direction though. I want to have more thoughts on him. I love writing about him and making analyses. I want to write fics and stuff.

dear followers, this is NOT an agere post

it's a CRK post, so... if you dont want that, dont worry about it! /gen

beast yeast ep 9 spoilers!! also it has angst also this is a VERY LONG post. specifically, below the cut is 3,834 words and 21,377 characters.

cw/tw: cognitive and emotional dissonance, emotional abuse (from a leader and/or mother figure), brainwashing?, cult, the word "pill" and a large part of this revolves around a metaphorical/emotional illness/disease

So I have a lot of thoughts about this episode. Things that I haven't seen talked about yet so I wanted to bring it up for the more-into-crk-lore-than-I-am-people if they see this.

Most people have mentioned or are aware of the things going on with Pavlova Cookie, Sugarfly Cookie, and Eternal Sugar Cookie. I think most believe that Pavlova Cookie and Sugarfly Cookie are and have been being abused by Eternal Sugar Cookie in some way. Some may even think Eternal Sugar Cookie is a cult leader. I've heard that suggestion be tossed around. Some may view her as an abusive mother figure. And all of that, in this post, will be posited. This is the basis of this post.

First, I'd like to point out something that I noticed quite early on in this episode, after everyone got to the Garden. The Sugar Angels—the ones who help heal the other Cookies—didn't seem to ever hate their job. I'm in a line of thinking that Pavlova Cookie, Sugarfly Cookie, and the Sugar Angels are different types of Cookies. I have no idea if there's any evidence to this, but I just sort of get that vibe. Which could mean a bunch of things. We could be seeing a type of hierarchy. The Sugar Angels are the most common type of Cookie there. They could be the main population, for lack of a better term. Pavlova Cookie and Sugarfly Cookie seem to be more-directly-under Eternal Sugar Cookie's commands and orders. Which is... "weird," in a sense—At least, it seems weird. Raspberry Cookie's line of (paraphrased), "Wow, a Cookie from House Raspberry would never shirk off their duty to another Cookie!" comes to mind for Pavlova Cookie. If Pavlova Cookie is as close (in terms of order of command) to Eternal Sugar Cookie, why would he act childishly? Why does he not like his duty? Why isn't he more loyal, like Sugarfly Cookie?

I think it's complicated. I think he actually does like his job. His job is to give Happiness to all, and by proxy, lead everyone to the Garden. And with all that he talks about Love—and his fascination on Love—and it really seems genuine. He DOES want to help all Cookies. He does want to spread Love and Happiness to all. Who wouldn't? I mean, he's been told all his life that Love and Happiness is good. But something's interesting. "Pain and sorrow are not allowed in the Garden." This leads us to, again, multiple things... One, Pavlova Cookie likes pain and sorrow too. The first time we meet him, he talks about a love tragedy. And how that love tragedy is apparently deliciously interesting. It seems that a "normal" Cookie of the Garden (idk what else to call them,) would be crying and deeply hurt about a love tragedy. If Pavlova Cookie shared this news to everyone else, he would be the bringer of bad news. He would make everyone in that Garden sad. But then again, sadness is unacceptable. Pavlova Cookie, being (assumingly) one of—or the only—Cookie of the Garden who can go to the Outside World, is the only Cookie of the Garden who actually sees pain and sorrow. He resonates with it. He understands it—and he loves it because this is the only place where he is also understood. It's very unnatural—and rather impossible—for someone to be happy all the time. Even Eternal Sugar Cookie expresses more emotions than just happiness and bliss in her own Garden. But anything other than Happiness is bad. Any other emotion is bad. Is horrible. Is needed to be snuffed out like a candle's flame. In the Garden, you are not allowed to feel anything other than this one thing. But what causes Happiness? In the game, Eternal Sugar Cookie literally says that Happiness is going after what you want. And that doesn't sound bad at all.

...Except it is. And it is to her, as well. Why else would she get upset at Pavlova Cookie? When he wants Hollyberry and everyone else to stay, he is doing what he wants. In fact, he's doing his job. He fully believes that this is apart of his duty as a member of the Cookies of the Garden. He believes this is what Eternal Sugar Cookie wants of him. And he's right. He is to bring Happiness to all Cookies, which means they are to stay in Eternal Sugar Cookie's Garden. This is what she wants. However, despite doing exactly that, Pavlova Cookie gets scolded by Eternal Sugar Cookie. He is told that this is now wrong. Yet another thing is wrong——exactly what Eternal Sugar Cookie wants is wrong. Now, there was no reason for Eternal Sugar Cookie to get upset at him like how she did. I feel like diffusing the situation would've been nice, unless she did and I just don't remember. Anyway, he objectively did nothing wrong as per her orders. But she fixated her eyes on him, filled with cold, piercing daggers. She told him that she would re-educate him. She does not understand him, and he does not understand her, in a sense. ...Or we can say it's one or the other, simultaneously. She does understand him, and he doesn't. This can be the case because she knows he wants to help, but he doesn't know her plan. Simple as that. Now let's say she doesn't understand him, but he understands her. He knows what she wants. Obviously, for he's acting all of this out and he's doing what he thinks is best. She thinks he is "going against her" by doing this. He is in the way of her plans. Both of these are true. ...They both know that she is leading the Cookies straight to danger. They both know that "pain and sorrow is bad for all Cookies." (Pavlova Cookie can still not know about the plan here. Any Cookie going out of the Garden is bad enough——he knows that himself. Just an added layer onto this.) But somehow, "pain and sorrow" is being allowed by Eternal Sugar Cookie. ...The outsider cookies are free to feel pain. They are free to express how hurt they are. They are free to tell her, "I'm not feeling okay." They are allowed to leave the Garden, get hurt, and come back and be treated with kindness and healings and benevolence. Pavlova Cookie, Sugarfly Cookie, the Sugar Angels, and other Cookies/Desserts of the Garden do NOT have this freedom. To add onto this, the outsider Cookies—Hollyberry, Wildberry, and Raspberry Cookie—judge him too. They judge Pavlova Cookie. Hollyberry Cookie tells Eternal Sugar Cookie that he seems to only prioritize what he wants. (I hear Pavlova Cookie argue, "This is Happiness. This is Eternal Sugar Cookie's blessing! And in doing this, I am helping other Cookies get Happiness too!!") Wildberry Cookie and Raspberry Cookie mock him, telling him he shouldn't pawn off his duties to another. ("Stop it! No one understands! My mother figure tells me I'm wrong when I'm doing exactly what she wants! You outsider Cookies don't understand me either! The only one who understands is Sugarfly Cookie!" I hear Pavlova Cookie vent out his frustrations.) Sugarfly Cookie seems like a sibling to him. They are happy to take the jobs for Pavlova Cookie. They understand how emotionally hurt he is, for his job is to go to the Outside World and view how much pain and sadness is in it, only to be constantly denied his own pain and sadness. He is in the world where this should not happen. He is meeting the Cookies that can help him. He sees where they live, he knows the creatures of the land. He knows pain and sadness exist here, freely, without constraint. If there is one place where he could be understood, it is here.

And he isn't. And even so, he has a job to do. He is to spread Happiness to others. The Happiness that he doesn't fully know. The Happiness that confuses him. The one that he doesn't know if it's bad or good. He doesn't know why he feels sadness. Why he feels hurt. This is the place where pain and sadness does not exist. The Garden is where all Cookies are cared for. He should not feel this way. He, while feeling these emotions, is betraying Eternal Sugar Cookie herself. He can't admit it to others, let alone admit it to himself. But he still likes giving Happiness to outsider Cookies. Because who doesn't want to be happy? Happiness will be good. Forever. It is impossible for Happiness to be a bad thing. Happiness is good. Happiness is right. It is the way of the Garden, and it is the way of his mother figure. Its importance has been passed down and spread all across the Garden. He would be a fool to say Happiness is bad. Everyone would laugh. Maybe even Sugarfly Cookie. Sugarfly Cookie does not know the Outside World. It's debatable if they once knew it. But as of now, they do not. If they did, it's been far too long for it to mean anything to them anyway. Because they are Happy now. They are in the Garden of Delights, where nothing can hurt them. What Eternal Sugar Cookie does is not hurtful. It is not painful. Her actions cause no pain. Pavlova Cookie complains only because he visits the Outside World, where pain and sorrow reign and reside. He is affected by the outside influences. It is natural that he needs to come back to the Garden and rejuvenate himself.

("But he tells me he experiences Happiness there, too. He says pain and sorrow give him Happiness. He tells me that love tragedies are wonderful. That broken hearts cause his heart to fill," I hear Sugarfly Cookie try to reason with their confused thoughts. "He is sick. He needs help more than anyone. But he tells me—and I understand—why he cannot tell the Sugar Angels. Word will get to Mother. And Pavlova Cookie has tried so hard to keep all of this away from her for so long. However... I still don't know what it is that causes him this odd Happiness. I want to see it for myself. I want to understand him.") And they tell Pavlova Cookie they want to go with him one day. They trust him. They want to help him. They want to understand him. And so they go. They see it with their own eyes what grants Pavlova Cookie this odd Happiness. ...And this could go in so many different directions. The only thing we know for sure (at least this is assumed for this post,) is that Eternal Sugar Cookie found out. However... I think it to be like this. Sugarfly Cookie is terrified. Upon knowing the truth, Pavlova Cookie's situation is more dire than they expected. Crying creatures are granting him inner peace. Tears. Anger. Fits of frustration between lovers. Heartbreak. Violence. Emotions that are not allowed in the Garden is causing Pavlova Cookie "Happiness." This odd Happiness that he calls "Understanding." ("He tells me that he wants to do this. He wants to look like them. He wants to... cry. They are in pain. Their hearts are hurting. Pavlova Cookie... wants pain?" Sugarfly Cookie questions. "He is sick—He is very, very ill. I must tell Mother. I must tell her so she can heal him.") They tell Eternal Sugar Cookie about what transpired. Sugarfly Cookie is mortified of the Outside World. Eternal Sugar Cookie sees how hurt Sugarfly Cookie is—and promises to them that they will never again have to visit that place. They will be safe in the Garden. Forever. The new armor is wonderful. It's a bit heavy—Sugarfly Cookie can't exactly fly correctly, or fly at all. At most, they can hover, but that is alright. Being closer to the Garden is better. Having direct contact with the sweet clouds will surely help. No wonder it takes so long for Pavlova Cookie to heal. He can fly. But Mother did not give him new armor. In fact, she did not change anything about him at all, it seems. At best, she talked to him, and that was all. She told everyone she taught him a new lesson.

("But still, Pavlova Cookie is hurt. He still goes to the Outside World. But he has to. It is his job.... I feel bad for him. He is the only one who can go into the Outside World. He is the only one who can escort the outside Cookies to the Garden. He must witness the pain and sorrow from that world, and must go directly to Mother so she can help him. The Other World is cruel. But it must be this way. Pavlova Cookie is suffering. He mistook his Happiness. He wanted to cry not because he felt understood. He wants to cry because he is a Cookie of the Garden. And we are not to look upon or feel pain. And yet he does. He is the only one who does... While thinking about Pavlova Cookie, something happens to my heart. Something blooms within it. It is not Mother's Happiness. It feels like it droops lower than my wings with this new armor. This.... This is from the Outside World. This... is the disease that Pavlova Cookie is ill with. I contracted it, too, when I went to that sickly place. It... hurts. But in due time, because I am forever in the Garden, I will heal. Pavlova Cookie still has jobs to do. I will happily do anything he asks me to—I must help alleviate his pain. ...Oh, Mother has the same look upon her face when she taught him the new lesson. Pavlova Cookie will get too close to the Outside World—That is why he does not want to lead the outside Cookies back to their world. He does not want to get more sick. I understand. I will escort them for him while Mother reeducates him.")

...

"Pavlova Cookie? Come closer to me," says Eternal Sugar Cookie. "...Yes? You called for me?" responds Pavlova Cookie... ...with fear in his voice. He knows that he was wrong. Pain and sadness can be felt by Outsider Cookies. Of course they can. It originates from their world, of course. ("I hope 'Mother' will heal me this time. I hope it's not just telling me things I already know. That her plans are absolute, that her plans are very planned out. That she knows what she is doing. All I want is for 'Mother' to heal me like Sugarfly Cookie believes. But not like the sculptures... And don't restrict my flight.... And don't ban me from ever visiting the Outside World... No. No, that is impossible. I am useful. I am the only one who has this job. I am useful. I must be kept in this job. I must be doing well. Mother will pardon one mistake. She will keep me in this role. She will. She has to. It is..... healing me. It makes my heart full. Surely, she knows that. She understands me. ...

I keep thinking about Sugarfly Cookie and I's exchange before those outsider Cookies left. I asked if they remembered the pain that cannot be healed... They did, they do remember it. Because we both have it. We both have the disease that came from the Outside World. But... that's what Mother says. To me, I think it's not a disease at all. It helps... It... helps. And no one understands. No one but Sugarfly Cookie, and even they are on the fence about it...") There's a crazy amount of dissonance here. Of ambivalence. I hope you guys are getting what I'm putting down. It's sort of hard to explain to be honest. ...I want to talk about this.

[Image ID: A screenshot of Pavlova Cookie's dialogue from Cookie Run Kingdom. There are two sides of the image, left and right. Left side says the word "Victory." Right side says three quotes. In order, the first is: "Love always wins!" The second is: "Ahh, the power of love!" and the final one is "With love, Pavlova Cookie!" End image ID.]

I want to talk about that last one. "With love, Pavlova Cookie!" Who says their own name? Why would you do that? It's because he's quoting someone else. "With love, Pavlova Cookie!..." said Eternal Sugar Cookie, during one of the "reeducating sessions." It's like she's telling him, reinforcing into him that he is not doing any evil. He is not doing anything bad. Spreading Happiness can NOT be bad. Ever. Shooting arrows at others is not bad. Killing monsters is not bad. Winning, even if the "stubborn Cookies" resisted, is not bad. You won. You achieved victory. And you did it with love. I see a lot of posts talking about the statues/sculptures. I want to add to this.

[ Image ID: A screenshot of a decor from Cookie Run Kingdom. Name of decor: Tender Dream Raspberry Jam. Visual Description: A statue of a Sugar Angel ontop of a raspberry jam jar. Has a small amount of jam on its right wing and head. In-game Description: "May your slumbers be happy in the Garden of Delights! Eternal Sugar Cookie herself has crafted these intricate jars of jam to keep Cookie protected from pain and suffering for all eternity. It is said that this jam tastes like the warmest memory of your life. Those splatters of jam on the statue…? Don't you worry, sweetest!" End image ID.]

I want to focus on the end part. The splatters of jam. So... this is just pure confirmation that these transformations are painful. They bleed. They are in pain when these happen. Have another one.

[ Image ID: A screenshot of a decor from Cookie Run Kingdom. Name of Decor: Sweet Slumber Blueberry Jam. Visual Description: A statue of a Sugar Angel on-top of a jar of blueberry jam. A blue tear comes from its right eye. In-game Description: May your slumbers be happy in the Garden of Delights! Eternal Sugar Cookie herself has crafted these intricate jars of jam to keep Cookies protected from sorrow and suffering for all eternity. it is said that this jam tastes like the fondest memory of your life. Why does the statue look like it's crying…? Those are happy tears, sweetest!" End image ID. ]

The fact that there's two of them—different ones—with either jam or tears... insinuates that there's different types of "petrification"? One that gives physical pain and another that is emotional? That's just a theory though.

[ Image ID: A screenshot of a decor from Cookie Run Kingdom. Decor Name: Sugar Peacock. Visual Description: A purple peacock with seven tails. The peacock's eyes are closed, but eyes are on the ends of the tails. One eye per tail. In-game Description: These majestic birds with feathers of sleek, shiny candy walk gracefully around the Garden of Delights. With their eyes constantly closed, it may seem as though they are dreaming—but make no mistake: their real eyes are on the tips of their tail plumes. Day after day, these eyes witness happy faces. But… what happens if a face is not happy?" End image ID.]

"What happens if a face is not happy?" Another case of "any emotion except for Happiness is bad" in this place. And apparently, peacocks symbolize beauty, divinity, power, confidence... and "the beautiful things of life." Wow.

[ Image ID: A screenshot of a decor from Cookie Run Kingdom. Decor Name: Mashmallow Candy Pillars (Top). Visual Description: Two pink pillars hold up a small part of a pale white ceiling. The pink part looks soft. In-game Description: A soft marshmallow wraps around a sturdy candy pillar making it completely harmless in the event of a sudden collision. The sensation of its plushy embrace upon impact has some Cookies dreaming of turning this pill-ar into the pill-ow of their dreams… but will they ever succeed?" End image ID.]

Ohhh man. The "pill" part of those words are getting singled out. This inspired the whole "sickness/illness/disease" things above. Like, of course this society would have parallels to sicknesses. They literally heal others... but I didn't expect this in this description.

[ Image ID: A screenshot of a decor from Cookie Run Kingdom. Name of Decor: Winged Tree. Visual Description: A tree with purple angel wings as its leaves. In-game Description: "No one is ever busy in the Garden of Delights! Why soar in the sky when you can slumber in the shade of this tree? Legend has it that is how this tree gained its wings—the previous owner no longer needed them." End image ID.]

"The previous owner no longer needed them..." ...What does this mean. What does this mean??? Does Eternal Sugar Cookie just straight up... you know...? I mean, I guess it makes sense. You can hurt your people as much as you want because they are in the realm of healing and stuff. It won't matter how much pain you experience because you can just get all of that wiped away.

[ Image ID: A screenshot of a decor from Cookie Run Kingdom. Decor Name: Swimming Tooth Rock. Visual Description: A tooth that can…swim… Apparently these are creatures in this world. In-game Description: This Toothling has rotted from drinking too much grape juice flowing through the Garden of Delights. However, it still will not stop, despite the pain… Perhaps, it lives as a testament to the phrase, "All is good in moderation." End image ID.]

...So are we just going to say that everyone in the Garden is raised to be masochistic...? The phrase "All is good in moderation" and like there's no moderation? They genuinely think it's good for them? Is this what this means?

But, yeah, anyway. I think this is crazy. Not to mention the music. I find it absolutely fascinating that the boss battle theme is a remix of the like, main theme of the place, I think. I know that makes sense, but... something about the boss battle theme just seems so... conflicted. The good that you know suddenly becomes bad. Everything you've ever lived for twists itself into disparagement by Eternal Sugar Cookie in-front of your eyes. It feels like the truth is coming out, yet you have a vague idea of said truth... It feels like you don't know which one to believe in.

But anyway. Sorry for this whole very extremely long post. Maybe I'll come back to this again and/or start posting my other ideas about stuff. I didn't even talk about Hollyberry or Eternal Sugar's relationship. My thoughts on it are probably.... different than others. I'll just say I like Eternal Sugar more than Hollyberry. ...Which..... is interesting, given that I don't exactly *like* like Eternal Sugar. Anyone else think Pavlova Cookie and Sugarfly Cookie see each other as siblings btw? Anyway. I'll stop rambling. This has gotten long enough.

[aequitaes]

.

[deadsetobsessions]

There’s a child wandering the streets of Crime Alley. Unfortunately, this is nothing new for the area, riddled with crime and homelessness as it is. However, Red Hood and Nightwing are vigilantes and helping lost looking children is firmly in their job description. Plus, Crime Alley is Red Hood’s. He protects what’s his. With a single shared look, the brothers swung down to the child clad in just a white dress and some thin flats completely unsuitable for Gotham’s worsening weather. Hell it’s be unsuitable for the general poor weather.

“Hey, kiddo.”

The girl’s head swung to lock gazes with the duo, eyes blinking blue- and green? Red Hood allowed his brother- he worked so hard to beat down the pit madness in order for Nightwing to even remain near- to take the lead.

“Oh. There you are.” She said, turning to face them fully. The kid’s face filled with relief.

Nightwing blinked.

“You were looking for us?” His soft voice saved for children firmed into something more serious, more concerned.

“Mmhm. I was looking for Red Hood, but you’re a good bonus.”

“And why were you looking for me, kid?” Red Hood interjects. He knows Dickolas is clocking the same things he is: the kid’s white whispy hair, pale face, and… Lazarus green eyes? It’s more solid now, that she’s looking at Jason.

Dick straightened, eyes going heavy as he looks at this wisp of a girl. He’s fiercely protective of Jason and they’re both equally wary of the League of Assassins. Still, the two of them couldn’t help but let their guard down a bit because this was still a child they’re talking to.

“Because… um. Did you know you’ve died?”

Hood stiffened, hand going towards his guns. Granted, they’re rubber bullets, but the kid clocks that immediately. She threw her hands up in the universal gesture of “I’m unarmed and mean no harm.”

“I- well, to put it frankly, you kind of… stink?”

“What.”

“Ugh, I’m totally messing this up!”

“Why don’t you start again?” Dick said, shifting into a subtler fighting stance. He kept his voice light, but Jason saw the way his hands inched towards the scrims sticks. Distantly, Jason thought it was hilarious that this tiny kid could evoke that kind of response. Looking into Lazarus green eyes though, he couldn’t find the humor anywhere. The worst thing, though, is that the pit quieted. The rage the bubbled incessantly underneath his skin calmed. Jason did not like feeling bereft of the rage, not when he didn’t know why it was gone. He had just gained control of it, minimally, and to have that control be unnecessary left the vigilantes off kilter.

“Right, okay, sorry. Um, did you, uh, die and wake up surrounded by glowing green stuff?”

Before Jason could reply ‘yes, and why the hell do you know that?’, the kid continued with, “Because me too!”

She did jazz hands as Jason’s and Dick’s brains short circuited. Jason thought he even heard a little “yay!”

“What.” Jason sputtered out. His stomach and heart clenched as he thought about how young the kid looked. Fuck.

“Yeah. So, anyways-”

“Don’t speed past that like you didn’t say what you just said!” Dick interrupted, hand tugging at his hair in distress. His body language slipped from battle ready to extremely distressed. “You died?”

“You were- you were dipped in the Lazarus pits?!” Jason felt the need to address that specific point.

“I mean, it’s not that important? The important thing is- wait, what’s a Lazarus pit?”

Jason froze again. She didn’t know what they were?

“It’s… the glowing green stuff.” Dick answered her.

“Oh. Is that what you were dipped in?” She tilted her head at Jason. He nodded, wariness climbing. “Oh. Well, I mean, that’s not we call it. But the stuff you were dipped in, it’s rank. Contaminated.”

Jason thinks back to the burning, drowning green. The agony he felt as it slipped into his mouth and nose and his very being.

“It was bubbling.” He said. The girl grimaced. Jason had no idea why he was being so honest with this kid.

“Gross. Anyways, I can, like, help you with that?”

“With what?” Dick asked, eyes darting from the girl to Jason.

The girl groaned. “Okay, so I guess you guys are kind of new. Uh, the contaminated green stuff,” she points at Jason’s chest. “That’s making you angry, right? Leaving you in the backseat of your head as your body breaks whatever got you angry to begin with and you have no control over it?”

“…The pit madness.” Jason mumbled, feeling numb. “Yeah.”

“…Right. I can help you clear that out,” she pauses, fidgeting. “If… If you help me talk to Batman? It’s kind of… urgent.”

“Batman?”

“Why?”

“Uh. There’s kind of… a whole mad scientist thing going on and like… experimentation and dissections… you know?” The kid waved her arms around, distressed.

Dick and Jason unfortunately did know.

“Cave?” Jason grumbled.

“Cave.”

“Okay, we’ll bring you to the cave. Then you tell us everything.”

“Really?”

She looked up at them hopefully, and Jason could see the moment Dickolas melted. Not that Jason could say anything, since he was already taking off his jacket and bundling the kid in it.

“Um.”

“Who the hell let you walk around Gotham like that?” He scowled down at her, not that she could see it with the red helmet in the way. Dick looked at him carefully, eyes roving over the oddly relaxed state his little wing was in.

The kid shrugged. Jason sighs.

“What’s your name?” Dick asked. Scooping her up, the blue and black clad raised his free arm to grapple away. Jason follows him, heading towards the motorcycles they’ve got parked nearby.

“Dani. With an I.”

“Nice to meet you, Dani. I’m Nightwing. This is my… this is Red Hood.”

“Okay. Cool.”



[sichore]

this brainrot took hold in record time

[blue-mood-blue]

I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.

And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.

What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?

Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.

Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”

They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.

Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.

Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.

It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.

(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)

Death feels very real after that.

The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.

The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.

(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)

Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?

(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)

Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...

…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…

And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.

“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.

Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.

(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”

Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”

[crossbackpoke-check]

blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[restinpeacesensei]

i have drawn a birthday picture for akoya every year for the past 11 years! ;;w;; i imagine that every time i do, he gets a year older!

and now, it's canon!! the boueibu characters really are 10 years older! and akoya officially has a gorgeous dress!!! \>////</ congratulations!!! \TWT/

we would prefer not to pick favorites or receive comments about how the art has changed, but to think of every picture as a precious memory! ;;w;; do you remember them all? ;;o;;

akoya-chan!!! thank you so much for being with us for all of these years!! \;;/////;;/ ive loved you, ive found how to be myself through you, i know now that everything always ends up being okay. im so happy ive been able to share these years with you!! ;;~~~~;;

akoya, and all of you, thank you so much for all the beautiful memories!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY ANGEL!!! \>//////</ WE LOVE YOU FOREVER!!!! \;;W;;/💖💖💖

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Do you use AI generators to compile or scrape this information?

no

[boydykedevo]

World’s clingiest boss 🙄

[moongothic]

WAIT WAIT WAIT HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

So normally we only get fullblown, extended and dedicated flashbacks for heroic characters in One Piece, the characters who we're meant to root for. The literal only TRUE exception we've had to this rule was Big Mom's flashback. Even fucking Doflamingo's flashback was tied to Law and Rosinante's

So the fact that we haven't gotten a single fucking GLIMPSE at Crocodile's backstory is?!?

Like sure, we haven't gotten like a Moria flashback, but you know, he literally told us all we needed to know himself, AND we got to see glimpses of him in the Wano flashbacks. Arlong didn't get a flashback of his own, but he did get to cameo in Fisher Tiger's flashback. And Rob Fucking Lucci got a flashback that was 6 whooping panels long

BUT CROCODILE?? Not only do we know almost Fuck All about his story, but also have never gotten as much as a glimpse at it? But his backstory has been HINTED and TEASED at multiple times??

GUYS. FELLAS

Like. I am SURE the "Full Backstories for Heroes Only" rule is going to get broken again, but with Imu and Blackbeard already there just BEGGING to have their beans spilled, can we even be sure Sir Fucking Crocodile is somehow going to become A Villain So Dangerous To The Narrative that he ALSO should also recieve a Full Fucking Backstory?? For his Nefarious Schemes?? AT THIS POINT??

Y'all

I think it's more likely Oda's been saving up Croc's backstory because it might just completely recontextualize his entire character

[kaiserouo]

Fine Dining