#something something doomed to repeat the cycle

[etherealspacejelly]

You're not though, setting boundaries is healthy bc those are your limits. You're allowed to have them as a person though ik it feels like you shouldn't (from personal experience)

people pleasers will really be like "is anyone gonna lie on those hot coals and let everyone else walk across their back" and not wait for an answer

its me im people pleasers

and then for some reason being like "um hey guys lying on the hot coals kinda hurts actually" FILLS ME WITH GUILT

i am a healthy and well adjusted individual 👍

[wolfliet]

something something memory is a monster and how somehow the two ppl who are the most on claudia’s side are the guy who killed her and the guy who never met her

bc while her fathers are so stricken by grief and guilt and their own emotions that they are constantly sidelining her neglecting her projecting onto her making her play a role, on the other hand!!!!!! armand knew exactly what he was doing making her be baby lulu!!!! but lestat did the SAME EXACT THING to her treating her like a doll except HE was totally sincere and couldn’t even comprehend why she was unhappy

and daniel being the one to stand up for her and say no claudia would not have hesitated to burn lestat!!! even while louis’s guilt will do anything to block out his memories of how he failed her daniel won’t let him, even tho daniel himself is a deadbeat dad who was constantly failing HIS daughters

like. in some ways armand and daniel are able to see her with the most clarity bc they have the least grief. and for louis and lestat their grief over losing their daughter actually is the epitome of memory is a monster like OK BUT THAT ISNT UR DAUGHTER. THATS A MIRAGE. THATS A FANTASY. THATS BABY LULU.

also obv armand being the only one who can understand her on the level of “child vampire” and how a lot of his hatred and disdain for her doesn’t come from a place of actual hatred but more like. the detached contempt of putting down a sick dog that doesn’t know it’s sick. it’s not about her either. it’s about the laws about how he believes she’s a mistake just like he was a mistake and she will suffer just like he’s suffered and he’s putting her out of her misery. he’s able to write off taking her life bc “oh well it’s a mercy killing, she’s inherently broken (like i am)” instead of seeing her as a fully actualized person who HAS AGENCY AND CONTROLS HER OWN NARRATIVE AND DOESNT HAVE TO FOLLOW THE CYCLE!!!!!!

like. insanity. her parents should have protected her but they didn’t. the person who probably could have understood claudia the most in the world (armand) and therefore SHOULD have protected her from what he went through decided to repeat the cycle and that taking away her agency was for her own good and her death didn’t really mean anything bc she was doomed anyway. the guy who’s reading her diaries and scavenging between the lines for hints about who she was is too late to ever hear her voice

[lodgersims]

As a Sims 2 player one of the most eerie things about playing the original game isn't necessarily the creepy/more liminal aesthetic or the repetitively endless gameplay, but the fact that almost all the pre-made Sims from the original game are inexorably doomed by the narrative.

There's something odd about Pleasantview specifically, where the majority of the returning Sim families live (save for Tara Kat, who seems... relatively fine). Like, the concept of the game is that twenty-five years have passed, and all of the returning characters are pre-baked into character arcs that communicate an unavoidable truth: You, the player, failed.

Bella Goth will disappear. Her brother (though in the original Sims we aren't aware that Michael Bachelor is her brother) will die, possibly murdered. Mortimer will be lost and alone. Cassandra will be stuck in an unloving engagement. The Newbie's daughter will be impoverished, a single mother whose husband died young, with two boys and another on the way. Daniel Pleasant will grow up to be a cheater. Jennifer Pleasant will never be an athlete like she wanted (her brother will). And though poor Johnny Burb never mentions Tucker anymore, you know that old dog died years ago. The Roomies, the Mashugas, the Hicks, the Charmings - all leave town... or worse, die out.

I think about Jeff Pleasant's bio in the first game: "Jeff and his family are new to the neighborhood. Can you help Jeff provide for his family and fulfill his lifelong goal of being the first man to walk on Mars?" And how it contrasts to Daniel's in the second: "Since his father Jeff died without achieving his dream of going to Mars, Daniel has felt an overwhelming guilt."

And sure, you can save the families of Pleasantview. You can choose for Mary-Sue to not go to work that day, or maybe Daniel never pursues Kaylynn Langerak again. You can give Cassandra a happy marriage, tame Don Lothario's womanizer ways. You can financially save Brandi Broke. You can get John Burb another dog. You can get Jennifer the career she always wanted. You can defy the scripted in-game prompts and say "No. I don't want to play like this." You can break the cycle, every time you play.

And yet, at the end of the day, no matter what you do... uninstalling the game and reinstalling it, maybe just deleting that Neighborhood folder, they are reset back to exactly where they were again. They're doomed to repeat it forever.

The game makes it clear that there are some things you aren't meant to change. A genie lamp or a Resurrect-O-Nomitron can bring back sims like Michael Bachelor, but you will pay for it in your neighborhood deteriorating to corruption. And no matter what you do, no force in the universe can bring Bella Goth back. The one in Strangetown isn't even really her, after all. And maybe she isn't. They say they deleted her in development, replaced her with a clone. Maybe that's what Bella Goth in Strangetown is. A clone. Maybe we were wrong, after all. Maybe she was never abducted by aliens. Maybe Don Lothario killed her. Maybe Dina Caliente killed her. Maybe Mortimer did. But you can't bring her back, no matter what you do. Recreate the original Bella, pixel by pixel, extract her data, make your zombie Bella. Build your own monster. Create a sim. But she will never recognize her family. Never see them as her own.

And she was never meant to.

[burningembers91]

The Gangster's Wife - Hwang Jun-Ho x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Sleeping With the Enemy

Please note that this storyline will deal with situations depicting domestic violence.

Synopsis: As your relationship with Hwang Jun-Ho deepens, your husband becomes suspicious

It was getting late, the sun beginning to set in a blaze of colour that stained the sky red. You shouldn’t be here, you should be at home, playing the ever-doting wife, waiting for her husband to return. But you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, couldn’t seemed to tear yourself away from the man nestled between your thighs. Hwang Jun-Ho traced the most exquisite circles over your clit with his tongue, his fingers softly stroking your sensitive core. Your fingers entwined in his hair, holding him in place as you arched your hips further into his touch; you couldn’t leave yet. Every day you spent with him, you found it harder to leave, found it harder to return to a man who didn’t love you like Jun-Ho did. Your ragged, shaking moans intensified, culminating in a sound that would bring a God to his knees as you came.

His lips trailed their way up your body, his tongue tracing a line from your breasts to your collarbone. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he pulled you close, taking in every inch of your perfect features. “We need to get you home,” he whispered, peppering a line of kisses along your jaw. He didn’t want you to go, he couldn’t keep you safe when you were at home. He spent every moment apart from you worrying for your safety. He wished he could take you somewhere far from the city, somewhere where no one could hurt you. “Five more minutes,” you begged, “please. I need you one more time.” Jun-Ho could never resist you, could never deny you anything. He made love to you again, his lips swallowing your moans as your trembled against him.

He dropped you back at your designated meet up spot, leaving you to take a taxi home. You would pretend you’d been out all day shopping, your arms ladened down with bags of designer clothes and accessories. “Until next time,” you smiled sadly. You never quite knew when you’d see him again, your meets up depending entirely on your husband’s schedule. He’d been spending more time at home lately, hosting more meetings in his office. You’d grown worried that he perhaps suspected something, that he was keeping a closer eye on your because he knew you were up to something. You knew you should care about getting caught; your husband was a dangerous man who wouldn’t hesitate to inflict on you a punishment far worse than death if he found out you were cheating, but you were powerless to resist the detective who’d been assigned to your case. You never imagined that by going to the police for help, you’d have fallen so maddeningly in love with the man tasked with bringing down your husband.

The taxi ride home felt like an age, your mind whirring with thoughts of Jun-Ho. You longed for the day when you didn’t have to sneak around, when you didn’t need to be apart. You’d spent so long being mistreated by your husband, and Jun-Ho had showed you love that you never knew was possible. What you had with him, that was real love. What you had with your husband was built on a foundation of fear and intimidation. You’d spent too many years cowering in his shadow, locked in a vicious cycle of beatings, apologies, expensive gifts and then more beatings. You knew you were doomed to repeat this nightmare until you died of old age, or he killed you. That was why you went to the police for help, not because of the harm he was doing to the others, but because you were scared of dying. Of course, you hated the way he prayed on innocent victims, the way he took whatever he wanted regardless of the pain he inflicted. But you were terrified of having your life cut short. Of having it ended by someone who was supposed to love and protect you. That was no life for anyone. Now that you’d experienced what real love was supposed to feel like, you were more determined than ever to get out.

You arrived home, dropping your bags in the hallway before padding through to the kitchen for a glass of wine. You didn’t notice your husband, not until you’d taken a large sip of Sauvignon Blanc. He was sitting at the kitchen island, silent and unmoving. “Where have you been?” He asked quietly. He had such a presence about him, such an ominous aura and you could feel your hands start to shake. “I was shopping,” you lied, not daring to meet his eyes.

Pushing himself off his stool, he casually walked over to you. The tension is in the air was palpable, the fear rising through you like a wildfire. “Why is your lipstick smudged?” he asked, running his thumb roughly over your lips, smearing the berry-red colour down your chin. “I had a burger for lunch. Must have smudged while I was eating.” You closed your eyes against the fear, hoping that if you kept them closed long enough, he’d just leave you alone. Instead, he pushed himself into you, enjoying the terrifying hold he had over you. “I can smell his cheap cologne,” your husband growled, backing you into the fridge with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. He didn’t say another word, leaving you to tremble in the kitchen like a scared little mouse. He’d come back later, when the fear had really set in. He’d show you what happened when you disrespected him.

You stood on the cold tiled floor, clutching the countertop for support. Your head span, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Grabbing your phone, you sent two words to Jun-Ho. Two simple words that made every ounce of colour drain from his face. He knows.

[alicentflorent]

An even better and sadder parallel would be Helaena or Aegon repeating her words back to her can you imagine, one of her children teary eyed as they say “all I needed was for you to tell me you were sorry for what happened to me” it’s painful to even think about

I need a scene where alicent tells Helaena and Aegon that she’s sorry for what happened to them because “when my mother died, people only ever spoke to be in riddles. all I ever wanted was for someone to tell me they’re sorry for what happened to me”

[frostyresolve]

constellations ꒰ ᝬ phainon

you wonder whether you’d find each other, even as stars in the sky. 641 words. a sprinkle of angst.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

“do you think when you’re long gone, the gods would put us up in the stars like constellations in the sky for the whole world to gaze upon?”

his head swivels at the sound of your voice, slight alarm in the irises of his eyes as his forehead bumps against yours in shock. at your question or the fact that you randomly appeared in front of PHAINON; you did not know. you can’t help but wince, showing the pearly whites of your teeth while he mumbles his apologies in a panic, jittery like a newly hatched droma on its feet.

“why would you ask such a thing?” is his reply, bewildered, though his tone borders on fond exasperation. leave it to you to ask the oddest questions he’s ever heard. one time it was if he’d love you if you were a verax leo. the other was if he’d still kiss you if you’d been a titankin (kephale knows how you’d turn into such a monster).

the silence hangs between you as your inner thoughts echo loudly in your head, anxiously waiting for his answer. he purses his lips, mouth parting to give you an answer before it shuts again, scrunching his nose in the way you adore so much. how does he answer you when he knows the truth? he’ll be the last one left at the end of the world, and you won’t be by his side.

“you’d be the prettiest star in the sky then.” he murmurs, fingers intertwining with yours like they’ve done so many lifetimes ago. a cycle that’ll repeat till the end of time. a romance meant to end with loneliness and doom, an ache that he can’t quite erase nor forget, haunting him across endless loops across timelines.

you don’t believe him, not knowing about the thoughts running rampant in his head, the impending sense of doom that threatens to swallow him whole and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“really? you’re just biased towards me. i can tell you’re trying not to laugh.” you pout, teasing him when your shoulder meets his with a soft nudge. PHAINON feigns hurt, clutching at his shoulder pad with an over-exaggerated wince.

“i think..they’d be fools if they didn’t. to be part of something eternal, that would be a sort of immortality in itself, don’t you think?” a wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he decides carefully on what to say without giving away the inner turmoil bubbling in the depths of his soul.

you laugh, a sweet sound that causes his heart to flutter; he’s never gotten used to the way you make him feel. he doesn’t think he ever will, falling for you over and over again.

“i’d love you forever, immortal or not. you know that, right?” you remind him, squeezing his hand tight enough like a lifeline. he’s your anchor, always and forevermore.

he gently rests his cheek against the top of your head, eyes closing for a moment as he basks in your presence, his other hand snaking around your waist to pull you close to him.

when he does open his eyes, his head turns to look at you. his gaze meets yours for a moment before flickering down to your lips, then back up to your eyes again.

“i know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “and i will always love you, no matter what form i take.”

“even as a chimera cat or a droma?” you giggle, his nose brushing against yours as his lips brush against yours in a gentle kiss.

“even if you’re a chimera cat or a droma.” PHAINON promises, his eyelashes tickling your cheek and sharing his breaths with you, your love mingling together into what he thinks is the closest feeling of peace he’ll ever feel.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[kacievvbbbb]

Something about Vegapunk using the dna and blood of a caged and experimented on child to create more caged child experiments and the cycles we perpetuate.

Because what does it mean that all that King has left as proof, that the lunarians were real, that they existed as a tribe, as a people, are seven manufactured children he doesn’t even know about, enslaved as weapons to the government that wiped out the culture they’ll never get to be a part of, and Alber himself another enslaved child lost to something he’ll never fully know.

And what of the warlords? Already young once and hurt by their government, young again and slaves to it. Boa looking at a version of her practically pulled out of time stuck in her worst nightmare or Jimbei looking at a version of himself living out a past he escaped by the skin of his teeth but so many he loved didn’t, even Doffy once again at the mercy of the people that already abandoned him, has Kuma not suffered enough? Given enough, is this child version of him doomed to repeat the same path he already could not escape from . Property of the world government, beholden to the celestial dragons, this version of me that cannot go free?

It’s interesting that Vegapunk joined the government so that he could do the most good, but look at the long line of people right infront of him that he’s hurt with his own hands.

[bundoesnotcompete]

A sequel or prequel to Phainon's nightmares. The cycle of the emanator's prison repeats itself.

Reading the other fic is NOT required to understand this.

Tw: Illness and blood. Angst central but also fluffy?

"Well, you certainly broke his nose." You held Phainon's face in your hands as you began to pour power into him. He jerked as you snapped his bone back into place in and began to heal it. Mydei stood behind him arms crossed and only looking slightly guilty. "Only breaking that bone this spar is a good record though." Phainon's nose had finally stopped bleeding. Mydei only let out a chuff-like sound at your comment.

"It was a good hit!" Phainon complimented once you had let go of his face. He stood up and brushed to grass off his knees.

"Did you really have to go for his pretty face?" You asked Mydei who only scoffed.

"He can take a hit. It will teach him not to leave his defense down." Phainon turned to the other man and smiled. He wrapped his arm around the other's shoulders.

"I guess we know what happens when two unstoppable forces meet each other." He laughed as Mydei looked annoyed. Well, annoyed to those who did not know him. All three of you knew the he was soft and squishy beneath his rough exterior.

"Well, now that the both of you are done sparring, how about we find out what happens when two unstopable forces meet an unmoveable object?" You turned to the sparring arena and began to causually walk over to it. Mydei and Phainon shared a look before catching up to you.

You were known to be as immoveable as the earth. A battle medic you may have been, but any who tried to attack you on the battlefield was met with a destructive defense. It was a dangerous get to get close, with your hits having enough force to liquify titankin. If your hits didn't kill, the plants would. Nature was always at your beck and call. You were as skilled as both Phainon and Mydei.

As the spar began you focused on trying to get Phainon out of the arena. While Mydei would be a tough oppenent on his own, Phainon would expose weakness in your defense. He was the brains, as you would like to think. Not that he couldn't hit hard, though.

For ten minutes you held your own against the two men, and your stamina was wearing unusually thin against such brutal attacks. Then you finally saw it, an opportunity to kick Mydei out of the field. It was a split second choice, but you hit the man in the stomach with your shin and flung him just outside and sandy arena. You had to contort and move out of the way of Phainon's sword. He let out a light hearted laugh at Mydei's misfortune.

"Haha! Seems I win this bet." He dodged one of your hits and glanced at where the other was sitting up. He faced you and gave a smile that meant he was up to something. You were both breathing heavily and he charged at you. You prepared yourself for a sword strike and braced yourself. Instead of the sword strike, you were hit with his whole body as he tried to tackle you. Letting out a noise of surprise, you balanced yourself so you would not fall.

He could hear your breathing as his head was near your ribs. Why did it sound so wet and like you were struggling? Feeling your hands wrap around him to throw him off, he wrapped his arms beneath your bottom and lifted you up onto his shoulder. He felt you let out a surprised laugh. Your feet were no longer on the ground and you gave half hearted hits on his back.

"What are you doing!?" You laughed. "This is a spar! You best put me down!" He sauntered over towards the edge of the arena where Mydei watched. "Phainon, do not." You struggled more in his grip. You would not willing go down lile this. Phainon did not falter in his movements. You let a sigh and went limp when he arrived at the edge. You had accepted your fate and loss.

He continued foward and dread filled your bones. There was only one place he was taking you. The pool. Mydei stood and followed, looking slightly smug. You recognized the tiles as your impending doom approached. You struggled again as Phainon laughed.

"Prepare yourself!" He spoke as the edge of the pool was mere steps away. He stopped at the edge of the deep end of the pool. "Are you ready?"

"No! Mercy! I surrender, don't do it!" You pleas were met with cold water rushing around you. Sweet heavens, it was so cold. Your head came above the water and you gasped. You gave a glare to Phainon. You locked eyes with Mydei and he gazed at Phainon. Mydei shoved Phainon and the other male fell into the pool with a surprised shout. Mydei snorted and jumped into the pool behind him.

The day went by more smoothly after that. You all continued to enjoy each others time in what was one of the few days off you had together.

You slept snuggly between both men that night. You had felt unusally tired that evening and fell asleep first. It was rare for you to end up in the middle, Phainon usually ending up there somehow. Even if it was a warm night like tonight, you all still slept together. The blanket was optional, however.

"They still aren't breathing right." Phainon spoke softly to Mydei who was still awake. He had his head on your chest. Mydei scooted down a bit to lay his head between your stomach and ribs. He listened for a few moments.

"It has been getting worse." He replied quietly. "I noticed it a few weeks ago."

"A few weeks?"

"I thought it an old injury, but they sound worse." Neither said much after that. Perhaps it was an injury getting better, or it was something more. Tonight they would not worry.

But, the illness grew worse as you continued to treat the injuries and illness of the people. Unbeknownst to you, the abundance in your body was beginning to change it and you. It was morphing your body and forcing it to adapt. Soon enough, you would have a heavy gaze upon you. Soon, you would bloom.

You heaved into the bucket that laid by your work desk. The illness you had was worsening and since the arrival of the Flame Reaver, you had worsened. Between the stress of dealing with the Reaver and your ever growing amount of patients, your body was quickly struggling. Flowers were all that came up this time. It hurt to have them come up, but relief was always near. The plant by your desk began to bloom suddenly.

The heavy weight of something was keeping you awake at night. Was it the illness, the coming doom?

You coughed once more and were unable to catch your breath this time. You coughed until your vision was blurry and you felt like you were suffocating. You hardly felt the hits to your back or heard the voice talk to you.

You finally spit up the bloody and bloomy vine that had worked its way you your throat.

"I need you to breathe." Phainon's voice was soft in your ear and you struggled for breath. You tried to follow the way he was breathing but you were still coughing. There was someone kneeling in front of you between the tears. You found breaths between coughs before finally being able to stop coughing.

How had you ended up in Phainon's lap in the floor? You were laying sideways on his lap and Mydei was in front of you. Mydei grabbed the vine gently and wiped the blood off the flower.

"White flowers." He murmured to himself. He seemed unsure of what to say next. He was worried and it showed, but he had never been good at expressing how he felt kindly. "Are you alright?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but it was the only one he knew to ask.

"I feel better, I think." You licked your lips to try and ease the dryness.

"We need to get you home." Phainon said behind you. "You won't be much good in this state." Mydei lifted you up despite your protest. You had patients to treat with little time available.

"Clean up the mess." Mydei ordered the outside nurses who had huddled around your office door worridly. "And not a word to anyone about this." Phainon was on your other side and they took you back home.

The crushing weight of reality was upon them. They would lose you soon.

Weeks passed and things began the fall apart. The heirs were dying and you were struggling with trying to keep your people from falling apart. You continued to try and run towards the battle between Mydei and the Flame Reaver. Your powers leaked onto the bloodied and ruined buildings causing white flowers and vines to grow onto the dead world.

"Mydei!" You cried out at the sight of your fallen husband. Where was Phainon? As you sprinted towards his prone form you were forced to dodge from an oncoming strike.

You lept away from the attack and landed by Mydei's body. The Flame Reaver had won.

"Oh, it is always you who haunts me last." His voice was unfamiliar to you. You laid a hand on Mydei's stomach, still facing the enemy. He was gone, but you wanted to hold out hope. "It is no use." You were quick to dodge the power that came your way, thick vines wrapping around the man's feet and trying to break bones. He sliced them in half.

"You both haunt me, but it is mercy what I give." Thick roots came to your defense as the battle began. He would pay for this. Even in your weakened state you managed to remain unmoving in your strength. It only took one misstep and you were gone.

You had the man pinned to the ground when he managed to drive the summoned sword into your chest. You landed a hit that should have killed him but only broke his mask.

"Phainon?" You whispered as the mask broke to revealed the dead eyes of you other husband. The gold ring that shone around the iris was something new. His smile didn't reach his eyes.

"In a way." Another sword came down onto your back. "Its amazing how we ended up on two seperate paths with the same amount of power. This is a mercy." He spoke, tears streaking down his face. "I know you'll both forgive me, you always do." The final sword struck down and plants bloomed from your corpse as the planet refilled with life. White flowers bloomed at every chance. An emanator of abundence was killed by the hands of a Lord Ravager. Your blood began pooling on his face and it hurt so much but he needed you both gone. He needed to break the cycle and escape. White covered his vision and he felt himself at the mercy of it.

Phainon jerked awake again. He was between the two people he loved most and he could only sigh in relief. Another nightmare, just wonderful. He tried to calm himself and wipe the tears away. Tight arms prevented him from sitting up. Mydei always has a death grip in his sleep. Your head laid on his chest as you were curled against him, breathing softly. It was not wet nor were you struggling. Why was he so worked up? It was a nightmare nothing more.

Just a nightmare and nothing more.

The Flame Reaver watched his other half quietly from the far building outside the window. The cycle begins again. One was in paradise, the other in hell. He would escape from this prison you helped create. He just needed to patient. He would ignore the jealous feeling in his chest and plan again.

[voitier]

Blame Morpheus for your sins - 04

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... you and jungkook had been attached by the hip since you were little toddlers learning how to live in your own bodies, which led you two to spend most (if not all) of your life together. one weird dream makes your whole view about your best friend change. how will you live with that?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [mini-series!] friends to lovers, college au, jungkook is whipped for reader but she's oblivious to it all, descriptions of wet dreams, second-hand embarrassment, learning how to deal with new found feelings, sex and all the good stuff, HEA.

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔... angst, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating, a whole lot of crying, JK and reader will definitely piss you off (they're both dense), Jimin is moments away to a mid-life crisis

▸ 𝓔𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮

▸ 𝔀.𝓬. : 2.9𝓴

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Some time ago your bad habit of doomscrolling through your social media brought to your attention a post. It was a citation of who knows who, and it stated that life is like a roller coaster: once you reach the peak you’re doomed to fall back down at full speed, but no matter what, the train will always bring you back on top, and then the cycle would repeat until the ride stops completely. 

You didn’t think much of it at that time, agreeing that the author was right yet without really stopping to feel, to understand what message they were trying to convey.

But now? Oh, now life pushed you inside the train with no warnings at all, no sweet talk, no coaxing. Just deemed correct that you tasted the taste of failure. Of disappointment. Of empty nights and empty days, of a closed stomach and constricted throat. Of days slipping from your fingers with no intent of being meaningful, or sticking by your side. Each hour, minute, each second dripping like the clocks from Dalí’s Persistence of Memory and pooling at your feet, mocking you for wasting them, for letting them dissolve into thin air instead of doing something. 

Doing anything, really.

But the more you tried to act, the more life pushed you down. Eventually, even getting up from your bed became an exhausting chore. If you managed to do it most morning, it’s only thanks to Jimin. The poor boy took it upon himself to throw you off your bed each morning, push you in the shower, throw you an apple then drag you to class every single time. More than a friend, he was a saviour for both your mental health and your grades.

One week.

That’s when you last spoke to Jungkook before he had hung up. One whole week ago.

And oh, it was eating you from the inside, clawing at your stomach, your throat, bruising and burning until you were left sobbing. No breakup you had gone through prior had hurt as much as Jungkook’s radio silence was hurting you now. 

“I don’t get why he has gone fucking MIA. And I asked some of my friends that go to class with him, Taehyung and Yoongi. Do you remember them? Anyway, apparently he hasn’t been showing up to class either.” 

You sniffed lightly, wiping the tears streaking your cheeks with your sleeve. Jimin sighed, sitting down in front of you. With gentle hands he cupped your jaw, bringing your eyes high. “Hey,” he whispered softly, carefully fixing stray wet hairs that stuck to your face. “It’s alright. Things will be fixed soon, I’m sure of it. Just hold tight a little longer, okay? You can do it, I know you do.”

A choked sob escaped your lips, a new fit of tears coming up and out of you. Jimin’s hand traveled to the back of your head, guiding you to his shoulder, holding you lovingly. You clung to his shirt, desperate to anchor yourself to something before you spiraled into complete madness, drowning in destructive thoughts that had a name and surname: Jeon Jungkook.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

Jimin was right when he said that Jungkook had gone MIA.

No amount of calls, texts, emails or missed classes could bring him outside of his dorm. Heck, his neighbors weren’t even sure anymore if he was still there.

Except, he was still inside. 

He stood in front of his desk, watching his phone ringing nonstop from your desperate calls, each one being sent to voicemail.

“Kook–” a broken sob echoed in the small dorm room, and the boy sat back down on his bed as the rest of the registered voicemail played. “Please pick up, I’m so– I’m sorry, please.”

His heart tugged a little in his chest at your voice break at the end of the note, yet he couldn’t bring himself to do what you were asking - no, pleading - him to do. Not because he wanted to torture you, or because he was angry. Actually, scratch that, he was still angry at you, but that wasn’t the real and complete reason for his absence.

The reason for his disappearance was a soft, elegant and reserved girl with a big love and understanding for classics and a crazy amount of hatred for the contemporaries, the type of girl that looks like she could break under the weight of life, from his Contemporary Literature class. He had noticed her the first day of class as she hurriedly ran past a group of students hogging the door, sitting down at the back with all her things. Head always low, as he would then learn that she only raised it when something really sparked her attention. 

Later on, Taehyung had found out that she was half French and half Korean, born and raised in South Korea until the age of ten, then moved to France until her early adulthood. She had won a scholarship thanks to her high GPA, and that’s how she found herself at their college. Her name was Nari, but a lot of her friends, mostly international students, also called her by her French name, Amélie. 

Anyways, it was soon clear that the girl had developed a certain liking towards Jungkook, never making it too obvious, yet evident enough to grasp on it quickly if you were observant. And Jungkook’s eye was built to catch every single detail, whether it was something physical or a change in demeanor. 

The poor girl had no idea, obviously, she thought that no one had ever noticed her cheeks flushing pink whenever the man talked in class, or when they would accidentally make eye contact. She was quick to divert her gaze each time, almost too quickly to pass just as embarrassment. 

She was so pure, so naive. 

So infatuated with a man who was destined to be someone else’s entirely.

She didn’t know that, though.

So she decided to shoot her shot, after being thoroughly coaxed by her friends to act before it was too late. 

The plan was simple, really. Nothing extraordinary, no face to face confrontation needed, not too intricate like kids do. She had written down on a piece of paper her number, signed with her initials, hoping that Jungkook would immediately guess who it was (he did), then slipped it inside his book when everyone left to go grab a snack before the second half of class started. When he returned he didn’t suspect a thing, and the day proceeded as usual.

This was approximately two weeks and a half ago. She hadn’t heard from him though, and even in class he didn’t act differently. She was almost on the verge of giving up truthfully. 

But then, a week ago things changed.

The rain pattered heavily on the city, big drops of water splashing on the ground and wetting the hem of Amélie’s jeans. She tried to squeeze under the roof of the overpacked bus stop, brimming with college students like her trying to get home without too much damage. Rain kept falling on them, and a few drops ran down her cheek and arm as she wasn’t completely protected. She huffed annoyed, wiping away the single rain drop from her face, silently praying that the bus would arrive soon. 

Somewhere, a group of students sighed in relief at the sight of a blue and white bus coming from the end of the street. And she almost joined them, if it wasn’t for her phone suddenly ringing with a new notification.

[Unknown number] (2 new messages)

⤷ hey, is this nari? from contemporary lit. class?

⤷ it’s jungkook

She gasped at the messages, clutching the phone in her hands as she read the words over and over again. She rubbed her eyes, making sure that they were not deceiving her. J-U-N-G-K-O-O-K. Yeah, no, they were definitely not deceiving her. So not only he had found the note, but he also guessed whose number it was. 

Shit. 

She didn’t think she would have made it until this point.

Now what?

Anyway, in the midst of her internal turmoil she hadn’t noticed that the bus stop had emptied drastically, and now the vehicle was driving away, without her.

All because of Jeon fucking Jungkook.

Great.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

Generally speaking, Amélie would not describe herself as someone who takes part of hookup culture. Growing up around friends who did, she saw the aftermath: countless calls lasting hours and hours on end, friends sobbing in her shoulder cause they realised that not even sex would bring them their desired person, a dark cloud walking around with them until somehow, someway, they pulled themselves out of this depressive state.

It seemed miserable, to be honest, definitely not worth for a fuck every once in a while. That’s why she had decided to wait until she got a boyfriend, which would not save her from a heartbreak but at least it would spare her from crying about a relationship that was built on nonexistent foundations to begin with.

Which is exactly why she had no idea how she ended up in Jungkook’s bed, her naked body lying spent on top of the bedsheets, chest heaving as she recovered. Jungkook rolled off her with a groan, muttering something as he got up to throw away the used condom, then sitting back down on the bed with a huff.

This wasn’t the first time it had happened, but for some reason, something felt off this time around. She could sense that there was something up in Jungkook’s mind, yet she knew better than to force him to talk.

In a way, without knowing, she was preserving her sanity. Sometimes, being clueless is the best cure to an illness you do not know to have.

She turned to lay on her side, watching quietly as Jungkook slipped inside a clean pair of sweatpants, running his hand through his hair to revive them. His shoulders were tense, and there was an eerie silence inside the room. Amélie’s brows furrowed, a little voice at the back of her head nagging about a bad vibe it had caught on. 

She let her eyes travel from the boy sat at the edge of the bed to the door, a glimpse of something pink catching her attention. Sitting by the door was a sort of open closet, with all sorts of jackets and shirts hanging on their hangers. Under them, there was a long drawer filled with god knows what, but the pink glimpse she had caught on was stored inside a basket on top of said drawer. She squinted her eyes, trying to focus on the object she was looking at.

She gasped, quick, soft, reflexes fast enough to silence herself before he noticed. Her heart jumped up in her throat, and her skin broke in goosebumps all over.

A pink hair straightener. Inside Jungkook’s basket. A quick glance at the mass of hair that was now bent forward – focused on his phone – gave her the confirmation of something she already knew: those weren’t hair that are straightened. Heck, he probably didn’t even brush them.

She swallowed hard, mouth going dry as her eyes scanned the room for more.

Why didn’t she think of it before?

Her breath picked up as more and more signs of a woman being present in Jungkook’s life were presented to her unbelieving eyes: a hair tie hanging from one of his pens, another charger discarded on the kitchen table, a black mascara and a lipgloss sitting side by side on his desk, right by the keyboard.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, fuck!

She got up abruptly as panic started to settle in, grabbing her underwear and shirt before running for the bathroom, not even acknowledging Jungkook’s confused “what’s going on?”

She let her body collapse against the door, clutching her clothes to her chest desperately like it would change anything, letting the cold feeling of both the door and the fabric cool her burning skin and bring her back to the moment. Slowly, the realization began to settle heavy on her stomach.

Was she… the other woman? 

Her eyes ran frantically all over the place, noticing only now things she hadn’t paid attention to before: two toothbrushes, two different brands of toothpaste and a hairbrush that looked like a woman’s one, all close together by the sink. Bottles of perfume that read “eau de parfum – for her” at the front. Tears pricked at her eyes, her throat burning with the need to scream and cry all her frustrations, all her anger and disappointment. They weren’t together and he had made it clear from the beginning, but using her to cheat on another woman? How vile can a man be to act this way?

Quickly she slipped her clothes on, twisting the bathroom door knob open, ready to scream at the man sitting on the bed how disgusting he was, how angry she was at him, when suddenly the door to the dorm room bursted open.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

Life’s a bitch and you knew it. Your parents never forgot to remind you that, and you never did. Or at least, so you thought, cause while standing frozen at Jungkook’s doorway with him in only his sweatpants and a girl dressed in a shirt and panties, one thought crossed your mind: you didn’t forget, but you took it for granted.

And now it’s time that you remember that you revise your parents’ lessons, since you clearly need them.

The human body has a weird way to react to unexpected situations: time seems to stop and dilate even though you know that it's only a weird illusion, your body freezes, standing there stone-cold, your heart rate suddenly spikes.

What you weren't ready to feel, though, was the sudden pang of... what was it? Uneasiness? Hurt? Either way, whatever it was was twisting your heart in its grasp, squeezing and pulling until you felt like it was moments away from jumping out of your ribcage.

Your eyes jumped from side to side of the room, taking in the absurdity of the scene: from Jungkook, rising from the bed still half naked, to the girl you did not know, trying her best to cover her bottom half with the hem of her shirt. You couldn't help but notice the tears streaking down her cheeks, and the way she looked at you suggested that she knew something you did not know of. Whatever it was it didn't matter, cause without speaking a word you turned on your heels and headed back outside, ignoring Jungkook's urgent tone as he called you back in.

"Wait! Y/N! It's not what it looks like!" he yelled from his doorway, cursing under his breath as he saw you get far away from him. He snatched his shirt from the ground, putting it on hurriedly before bolting out of the door.

A soft voice from inside stopped him in his tracks. "What is it, then?"

Jungkook turned around, watching with a stoic face as Amélie's eyes drowned in tears.

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend," she whispered, trying her best to appear as put together as possible.

Jungkook sighed, shaking his head side to side. He leaned against the doorframe, running a hand through his hair before admitting in an almost tired voice. "She's not my girlfriend. It's... more complicated than this."

He paused. He looked at her, and he saw that there was no trace anymore of the naive, innocent girl he had met the first day. In a way, his touch had corrupted her, stained her with a sin that she did not deserve.

"You should leave," he concluded, turning around and closing the door behind him, letting silence take over the room.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

You should have listened to Jimin. You really, really should have.

He told you it wouldn't be a good idea, told you it would probably end up in chaos right now.

He didn't tell you that there was the chance that your bestfriend had disappeared cause he was busy getting his dick wet, ignoring you for a week straight for some other girl you had never met before.

Truthfully, Jungkook having sex wasn't exactly the reason for his absence none of you expected. Mostly because... it didn't make any sense.

Who the fuck disappears cause they've got a girlfriend?

Jeon Jungkook, apparently.

You huffed, running a hand over your chest. Jeez, why did it feel like you've been stabbed over and over again?

"Y/N!" you turned around, looking around the dorm lobby until you found Jimin waving at you from the other side. Close to him were Taehyung and Yoongi, the three of them having just entered the building.

"How... oh no."

"Oh no what?"

"You look like shit."

"Thanks, Jimin."

"Hey, not my fault! I suppose you two had a fight?"

"Oh," you chuckled nervously, going around in circles like an encased tiger. "We didn't even make it to that point. Mr. no-where-to-be-found was busy getting laid. Can you believe that? I cried for days on end because he wouldn't reply and he was just... having fun. Crazy, right?"

"Y/N–"

"I'm the stupid one, though. I could have done the same, instead of bothering you and feeling like shit all this time. I could have said, oh that's how life is, and moved on. But no, I had to cry myself to sleep every night first, then fucking explode and burst his door open just to find him with someone else."

"Y/N, shut–"

"And you know what's worse? That I feel like shit, too! It's like someone's fucking squeezing my heart and torturing me to see–"

"Petal."

© voitier 2025

a.n: it's finally here! I'm sorry I have edged you all for so long, truly had a rough time lately. I've read all the messages under the last post where I've explained what's going on and I appreciate each one of them! truly cannot thank you all enough🤍

I hope this chapter was worth the wait, let me know what you think of it! love you all so so much <3

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[abyssruler]

TROPES

ft. jing yuan, dan heng, blade x gn!reader

JING YUAN - reincarnation

They say the Arbiter General of the Luofu only takes a lover every few decades, each one doomed to end in the tragedy that befalls that of a love between a short-life species and a long-life one. It’s widely speculated why the famed general chooses to continue taking short-life species for lovers, knowing the ending that would come about such a union. Jing Yuan cares not for idle gossip, save for the fact that people spread misinformation about him taking multiple lovers, but he can hardly tell everyone that he has only had one lover throughout his centuries of life. It’s just that you always happen to die far too soon for his liking. He fears sometimes, during those first few years after your death, that you’ll never come back, that one day he’ll wake up and realize that hundreds of years have passed without you. But you never fail to appear decades later with a smile on your lips and an apology on your tongue, soothing years’ worth of worries with a few measly words. Sorry, Yuan, I’ll be sure to live longer this time.

DAN HENG - soulmates

The Imbibitor Lunae was not only tasked to bear the responsibility of being the High Elder of the Vidyadhara, he was also destined for a love that spanned beyond lifetimes. Dan Heng knows of the story between the previous incarnations of you and the Imbibitor Lunae. Reincarnating at the same time, falling in love, and repeating it all over again in a never ending cycle that Dan Heng had been sure to end—that was, until he met you. Jing Yuan told him of your decision to forcefully reincarnate as well after Dan Feng’s crime, so it stands to reason that you shouldn’t feel anything for Dan Heng at all, what with this incarnation of yours having never met him in this lifetime. And yet, you keep looking at him with such softness, something like nostalgia in the tone of your voice as you spoke with him, that he can’t help but feel as though he, like his previous incarnations before him, can do nothing but fall into that never-ending cycle of love and being loved.

BLADE/YINGXING - time travel

Yingxing thinks you’re strange. Not in a bad way, of course, only that your mannerisms and way of conduct when it comes to him and his companions is odd. He’s caught you almost calling Dan Feng the wrong name, Dan He-something. You keep demanding Jing Yuan to spar with you for what you dubbed was a ‘rematch’, though Yingxing has no recollection of any instances of you and Jing Yuan fighting before. But it all pales in comparison to the way you act with him. You’re overly familiar, smiling and talking to him as though you’ve known him for years instead of a single month after he discovered you wounded on an alley with a broken blade. He still remembers the look of relief on your face when he crouched in front of you in concern. Blade, Kafka’s gonna kill me, this is the fiftieth sword I broke this month, was all you said before passing out. Despite the oddity of your first meeting, he found himself getting close to you, drawn in by your smile and your laugh and the tender way you looked at him. He imagined spending what remained of his life with you, but you disappeared a day before he was supposed to confess his feelings. It isn’t until many years later, when Elio is introducing the newest member of the Stellaron Hunters, that Blade connects the dots amidst his fractured memory. And it isn’t until another few years that you confirm his suspicions. Blade, you won’t believe what I just went through—or rather, when!

[lura-valentine]

Choose Your Own Adventure!

MHA / BNHA Writing event

Poll winner: Dabi & Kaji – father and son alone at home. What could possibly go wrong?

Part 1: Start the Story

This will be an interactive writing event where you decide what happens next!

How does it work❓️

🐵 Character choice - completed 📖 First part of the story Post - Hereby concluded 🗳️ At the end of the story there is a survey on how it should continue 🌐 The majority decides what happens next 🔄 The cycle repeats itself until the story ends

–> To Rain's Profil #rain black character profil

–> To Kaji's Profil #kaji black character profil

Overview #lura mha/bnha CYOA_1

Vote start

Part 1 ● Part 2 ● Part 3 ● Part 4 ● Part 5 ● Part 6 (W.I.P.)

Start of the Event!

Warning: Alcohol for minors. Kaji is 16 and is allowed to consume low-alcohol drinks under EU law.

The small apartment was a retreat, a place Rain had carefully furnished. Three rooms, bright and spacious, with modern but not overly luxurious furniture. An open kitchen with a dark wooden counter, a living room with a deep sofa that often served as a sleeping place for one of them, and two bedrooms: one for her and Dabi, the other for Kaji.

The walls were painted in warm earth tones, with a few pictures hanging here and there – not many, but enough to give the room a personal feel. A small library filled one corner of the living room, Rain's books carefully sorted, while Dabi's possessions were mostly limited to his few clothes and cigarettes.

But the peace this place usually offered was disturbed today.

Rain was packing her suitcase, while Dabi leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching her silently. His gaze slid over her movements as she gathered her things. When she reached for her sanitary pads, he involuntarily grimaced.

"does it have to be this way?" he growled.

Rain turned to him only briefly, an amused expression in her deep red eyes. "What exactly? That I'm a woman? That I'm traveling? Or that you'll have to deal with Kaji alone for the next few days?"

He snorted and grimaced in annoyance. "The latter. Definitely the latter."

She laughed softly as she stuffed the last tube of skin cream into the side pocket of the suitcase. "He's your son."

"And that's the problem," Dabi muttered, his head sinking against the doorframe. "He's too much like me. If you're not here, this will end in chaos."

Rain shook his head slightly, undeterred by his doom and gloom. "You'll survive this. And if not, you can explain it to me when I get back."

Dabi curled his lips as if about to protest, but said nothing. Instead, he watched as she closed the suitcase with a satisfied nod. A dull feeling settled in his chest – he hated it when she left. Especially when he was left alone with Kaji.

Rain grabbed the suitcase and walked past Dabi with light steps, her perfume leaving a light, warm trail in the air. He smelled the sweet hint of vanilla mixed with something floral that always hit his nose whenever she moved. Her wings twitched slightly as she brushed past him, a silent echo of her own nervousness. Not because she had to leave, but because she has to leave her two big babies alone.

In the living room, Kaji sat, casually slumped into the sofa, his arms folded behind his head. The screen in front of him flickered; some documentary about wild cats was playing, but his gaze was half-heartedly fixed on it, as if his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Rain stepped next to him, and before he could react, she bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. A gesture she made throughout his life, no matter how old or tall he became.

"Behave yourself, Kaji," she said softly, with that loving undertone that both calmed and annoyed him.

Kaji grimaced and wiped his forehead demonstratively. "Tch, Mom, I'm not a child anymore."

She just laughed softly, stroked his black hair, and straightened up. Her red eyes studied him for a moment, as if trying to memorize his image, then she turned to Dabi.

He was still standing by the door, his posture seemingly relaxed, but she knew him well enough to know it was just a facade. A shadow lay in his turquoise-blue eyes, an unspoken reluctance to say goodbye.

Rain stepped closer, placed her hands on his cheeks, and pulled him down with a gentle tug. Her lips found his – warm, slow, sensual. She tasted of sweet heat, of something indescribable that always drove him crazy. Her fingers slid to his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, while his grip naturally wrapped around her waist, as if he wanted to hold her tight at that moment.

He was the one who finally broke the kiss, leaning his forehead briefly against hers as he spoke softly, "You could just stay here."

Rain grinned. "And take away your joy of behaving like a good father for once?"

He snorted, his grip on her waist briefly tightening. "Well. You chose it."

She pressed one last, quick kiss to his lips, then grabbed the suitcase and stepped to the door. "One week, Touya. That's all."

He watched her step outside, heard the soft click of the door as it closed. The silence that followed was strangely heavy.

Behind him, on the sofa, Kaji snorted softly. "Well, Dad. Now what?"

Dabi ran a hand through his hair. "Now I hope you don't piss me off so much that I throw you out the window."

Kaji leaned back with a crooked grin, his turquoise eyes sparkling with subtle provocation. "Sounds almost like a challenge."

Dabi grimaced, stepped deeper into the living room, and slumped into the armchair. "Well. If you really want things to escalate, don't hold back."

Kaji laughed softly, pulled up one leg, and rested his arm on it. "So, what now? We have the whole house to ourselves. No mom reminding you not to act like an ass. No rules. No boundaries."

Dabi casually lit a small flame between his fingers. "And that's exactly why I don't want any of this shit." He extinguished the flame and directed a narrow-eyed glance at his son. "What are you planning, huh? Throw a house party? Burn the place down before your mom gets back? Or just see how far you can go before I punch you?"

Kaji leaned forward, his gaze challenging. "Oh, I bet I can figure it out."

Dabi snorted. "Stop grinning like that. I see the same shitty face in the mirror every day, I know exactly what you're thinking."

Kaji shrugged. "I'm not doing anything. Not yet."

Dabi let his head fall back and closed his eyes for a moment. "Listen, kid. I really don't have a thing for your adolescent power play. So just chill. Watch your stupid documentary. Have a beer if you have to. I don't care. But if you annoy me, I'll make short work of you."

Kaji raised an eyebrow. "Oh, a beer, yes?"

"Don't tell your mother."

Kaji grinned broadly, stood up, and strolled toward the kitchen. "Already forgotten."

Dabi heard the faint clinking of bottles before Kaji returned with an ice-cold can of beer and sank back down onto the sofa. He opened it with a crackling hiss, took a long sip, and looked defiantly at his father.

Dabi narrowed his eyes at him before putting a cigarette between his lips. "Do you know what the problem with you is, Kaji?"

"Oh, please enlighten me."

Dabi lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. The smoke curled around his lips as he fixed his gaze on his son. "You're too much like me."

Kaji tilted his head slightly to the side, as if considering whether that was a compliment or an insult. Then he shrugged with a grin. "Well then, old man. Let's find out what happens when the two of us are locked under one roof."

– | –> Next Part

Let's start with harmless things.

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[enimsiyobeht]

your teeth in my neck. teaser.

wc : 631 , tw : yeonjun x amab reader. modern setting (❌ idols), toxic/abusive relationship. smutty angst. implied sex/suggestive, language, smoking, reader & yeonjun are 🚩🚩.

The first time you meet Yeonjun, it isn’t romantic.

It’s not even kind.

It’s a heatwave night, city lights bleeding through half-open blinds, sweat clinging to your skin. He looks at you like a dare—eyes sharp, mouth curled into something you can’t quite name. You trade words like knives, sharp and reckless. And it isn’t long before his lips are on yours, desperate, angry, tasting like smoke and something unspoken.

You know then what this is going to be.

Dangerous. Addictive. Doomed.

But you let it happen anyway.

It keeps happening.

He comes over late. Always uninvited. Always expected.

He acts like he hates you, and maybe he does—or maybe it’s something worse.

You fight, you press buttons no one else would dare touch. The air between you always feels like a loaded weapon.

"You only love me when it benefits you," Yeonjun spits one night, shoving you back, teeth bared like he’s seconds from sinking them into your skin.

You grin, bruised and cruel. “And you only come back when you want it.”

He doesn't deny it.

And every time, it escalates.

Touch turns violent. Words turn venomous.

You leave bruises you don’t apologize for, and he digs his nails in so deep you carry his mark for days.

It’s a terrible kind of comfort.

A language only the two of you speak.

"I feel you in my bones," you whisper against his neck once, the taste of him lingering on your lips.

He laughs, bitter and beautiful. "You feel me when no one else will."

And you do.

God, you do.

It’s not love.

It’s a possession, a hunger neither of you knows how to starve.

You tell yourself it’s control, but you both know you’re equally wrecked.

The nights are long, your apartment a cage you willingly lock yourselves inside.

"You don't even know my real name," Yeonjun hisses one night, pulling his shirt back on, his skin littered with your fingerprints.

You watch him in the dim light, feeling nothing and everything.

“Does it matter?”

And it doesn’t.

Because he’ll be back.

The cycle repeats.

Over and over.

Late nights. Scratched skin. Choked apologies that taste more like confessions.

You fuck and fight like it’s the same thing.

And maybe it is.

Bleeding, losing, sinking deep.

You don’t remember when it started getting worse.

Maybe the night he showed up already drunk, mouth slurring out all the ugly truths you both ignored.

Maybe the night you told him you didn’t care.

Maybe the night you did care.

But it’s always ending the same—his teeth in your neck, your hands in his hair, both of you chasing something you’ll never hold.

The breaking point isn’t loud.

It’s a quiet, mean little thing.

He stands by the door, his face unreadable.

“I’m done,” Yeonjun says, voice rough, eyes glassy.

And for the first time, you don’t try to stop him.

He waits.

You say nothing.

“I fucking hate you,” he spits. “And the worst part is—you never even cared.”

You finally look at him then.

Empty. Tired.

“I don’t care who you are,” you say. “I just wanted what you gave me.”

And that’s it.

He leaves.

You sit in the silence afterward, the ghost of his touch still lingering, the scent of him clinging to the sheets.

Your throat hurts. Your chest aches. Your skin remembers every place he ever touched.

Your teeth in my neck.

You're leechin' off me.

And you realize, it was never about love.

It was never about need.

It was about the way you both liked to bleed.

You light a cigarette.

The apartment is cold without him.

And for the first time, you don’t believe he’s coming back.

(full fic here)

[pauli-writes]

warnings: probably not lore accurate, shackling prison

pairing: dan heng x vidyadhara!reader

author’s note: i got the xianzhou on the brain, im sorry if this is bad i just needed to write something to get rid of my writers block :,)

eternity.

a state to which time has no application, timelessness. the concept of eternity was almost unthinkable to short life species such as humans, everything had a beginning and an end for them. but long life species view time differently, for them eternity was a feasible concept, yet equally as unreachable. whenever one thought they had reached it, they’d die or get reborn anew.

you have wished for eternity as long as you could remember, but you knew even if it would claim you, you would be reborn, doomed to repeat this endless cycle for millennia to come with no memories of your previous life.

and so life moves on, and yet you remained unmoving, as the shackling prison of the xianzhou luofu has been your home for the better part of this amber era. every day you looked wishfully at the dark walls of your cell, imagining a life outside of the prison, the life your other self had lived on the luofu.

but not everything was awful.

you had a friend once. his cell was next to yours, you never saw his face, but you could hear his voice, the screams and whimpers he’d let out when he had a nightmare. it wasn’t that unusual in the prison, but to you everyone else’s voices were scrambled and distant, and yet you could hear his so clearly, the anguish with in it, that one day you couldn’t take it anymore and asked him what he was dreaming about in an attempt to satiate your own curiosity.

“what are you always dreaming about?”

there was a prolonged silence followed by the soft rattling of chains. you assumed he was shackled to the wall just like you were.

“i think i’m remembering things from my previous life…” he spoke, but he sounded unsure and shaken up by his nightmare.

you frowned and shook your head, “that’s not possible.”

he didn’t reply after that. the two of you went back to being silent, for weeks you didn’t bother talking further. you were pretty sure he hated you, still eternity was so far away so you decided to try talking again.

“so, what did you do to end up here?”

he didn’t reply again, but you didn’t care, you needed to talk, to distract yourself from your prison, so you just continued. “i don’t really know, but i think my previous self did something bad.“

there was another pause and you believed this conversation to be another dead end until he spoke softly, “i think mine did too.”

your eyes widened as you heard him speak and you felt yourself smiling for the first time in a while. “i’m reader by the way...”

“dan heng.”

you paused for a moment, the name stirring a sense of familiarity inside of you. was it possible that… perhaps, perhaps not. all you knew at that moment that company was a momentary reprieve from this prison. so, you continued occasionally talking to your new friend, commiserating in your shared misery of being chained up for something you don’t really remember doing in the first place.

you were usually the one to initiate the conversations, dan heng wasn’t much of a talker you quickly figured out, but you mostly only spoke to him after you could hear him having a nightmare. but you were surprised as he spoke up first one night.

“do you know something about imbibitor lunae?”

you paused, a feeling of familiarity washing over you from the word, but nothing concrete came to mind. “it sounds familiar, but i don’t remember…”

“i see.” he replied, sounding disappointed. it made you sad that you couldn’t help him out, but you didn’t dwell on it.

“why are you asking me?”

silence filled the air once more, you could hear the chains rattling from his cell. “i… had a dream. i heard your voice. you said those words.”

“you have strange dreams.”

“you don’t?”

you looked to the ground, trying to recall the last time you had a weird dream, or even a dream. but you couldn’t remember, you slept so little that you definitely would have remembered a dream or strange dreams. “no… i don’t dream.”

“then you’re even stranger.”

you thought for a moment, “maybe…”

time continued passing outside of the prison and just as you found a moment of respite and comfort with the fleeting moments between you and your friend, they were ripped away from you in an instant like a cruel cosmic punishment. you didn’t see anything, but you heard the hushed voices, the whispered names and titles as the chains were loosened and the doors opened.

dan heng, dan feng, imbibitor lunae, the high elder of the vidyadhara…

those names meant something to you once upon a time too, maybe they would again…

[nyaagolor]

Once again I have Rosa Umineko on the brain. We know that the VN is just saying doing "self reflection through the other" all the way down, but I feel like Turn (aka Sayo's vent session) and the way she characterized Rosa is really reflective of her darkest thoughts. All the matriarchs represent being trapped in different cycles, self-inflicted or otherwise, but Rosa stands out to me among them for being the best representation of inevitability. Rosa's abuse of Maria is visceral, upsetting, and more importantly tied directly back to her own abuse at the hands of her siblings.

Rosa in Turn is a cog in the cycle of abuse, and probably the character portrayed as the least likely to actually escape from it. Maria is the witch of origins, creating something out of nothing, but Rosa is the witch of inevitability. Rosa has been abused to a degree that Sayo struggles to articulate, only to enact that same abuse-- almost identical as shown in the manga-- on her daughter. Rosa is (allegorically speaking) Sayo's worst outlook, the inevitability of passing on hurt to the people you care about.

As far as Turn is concerned, Rosa is destined to enact violence. She represents someone so beholden to their trauma that they are doomed to repeat it. Rosa is an exploration of Sayo's worst, most violent impulses. There is a reason that Turn is filled with gore and mistrustRosa, to Sayo, is an inescapable fate. Rosa is the person who couldn't move on from trauma, someone doomed to pass it on to everyone they love, a child in a woman's body who cannot be more than the violence inflicted on her.

When Sayo starts writing, she feels like Rosa-- and Rosa has never been someone that could have a happy ending. Sayo always tried to tell her stories through other people, to explore herself through their narratives and have everyone start to understand her through empathizing with the women she makes heroines. These narratives also serve as ways to understand herself, to reflect her own traumas and deepest feelings onto other people and learn how to feel about herself via proxy. That's why I always found it fascinating that Confession effectively confirms Turn to be one of the first things she writes.

Rosa is Sayo's capacity for violence, her hopelessness, the crying child she sees inside of herself. Rosa is a representation of a Sayo who can't heal-- who doesn't know HOW to. But this is one of the first people that Sayo tries to explore, to empathize with, to find herself in. Sayo has always been writing with the idea of a happy ending-- maybe they can solve the epitaph, maybe they survive. If Rosa can be happy, Sayo can be happy. But we know how Turn ends: she can't. Gold in hand, the person she loves most in her arms, she falls to the sea anyway.

Turn, to me, has always been the rawest feelings we've seen from Sayo. This is her writing her own pain, trying to find happiness in the person she sees as an inevitable monster. In the end though, she can't-- the wolf is doomed to kill by its own nature

[twsted-outro]

LIFE

PAIRING: Yandere!Arlecchino x Female!Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, murder, yandere themes, Arlecchino is heartless, she's an asshole ngl, not proofread i wrote this on mobile google docs, if you hate dying don't read this, I'm serious. written during 2023 (pre-fontaine and pre-release of arlecchino).

THERE IS fundamentally something about humans that makes their nature so fickle and insignificant. A human baby is born, destined to live life the way many others have done before; they live, perhaps fall in love, and die. It's a tale spun again and again, getting repetitive without any breaks. A cycle doomed until the end of time.

Hundreds, thousands, and millions of mortals have fallen victim to the inescapable loom of death.

But that's how humans are, they fulfil the purpose of living in their own ways. Some take up art, science, magic, or something as simple as farming. Through their small, limited time in Teyvat, there's a small percentage that create breakthroughs in their respective fields and are remembered for centuries to come. Immortalised, in a way, to history.

The world of Teyvat turns and time flows without pause, not giving a chance for anyone to catch up - leaves no room for those who regret and grieve.

Perhaps, in a few millennia, the world of Teyvat will cease to exist. The memories kept in pictures taken from a Kamera will be nothing but dust, statues honouring great heroes will be eroded, the lively lands will be barren and reeking of death, and the population will cease to exist - leaving behind nothing but loneliness. Nothing and no one to remember of what was the history that plagued the world.

Through that logic, in a way, life is meaningless. A nihilistic view, but one that stands true. All of the people are living for nothing - they laugh, cry, love, spend their wealth, pray to be blessed with visions, overcome hardship just to amount to absolutely nothing.

Life is nothing but one obstacle to another.

But perhaps, life can also be a blessing.

Because out of all the ages and time that scopes through space and history, out of all the reigns of Archons - by chance, out of pure luck and coincidence, Celestia blessed Arlecchino with the opportunity of you living in the same century as her.

Indeed, life is nothing but a hindrance and humans all live the same fate of dying, but there is still joy to be found - to experience.

And a miniscule amount of joy is more than enough to live through hell and back.

Arlecchino, a harbinger of the Fatui, does not believe in love. In her long life and the centuries she's lived, loving another has never crossed her mind. Even after meeting you under a streetlamp in Fontaine, what she feels for you can not be described as love.

Because she does not love, never has and never will.

Even now, laying in your apartelle's bed with and absentmindedly looking around your dim lit room, the word love doesn't suffice.

Both of your bodies are bare with only a measly blanket covering the lower half, her arm loosely wraps around your waist. The smell of sweat and bodily fluids linger in the air, a light reminder of what happened prior.

The world is quiet and it feels like all of Fontaine are asleep save for the two of you.

You're tracing shapes and words on her back, sweet words that bleed with affection falling from your lips seamlessly. You tell her you love her, repeatedly. You talk as if you can't live without her. You look at her adoringly and smitten, as if she's the one your world revolves around.

Briefly, you stop tracing on her back. "I love you," Then you smile, hand reaching out to tenderly hold hers. "So much."

She doesn't say it back, opting to stay quiet.

Briefly, your face falls at her lack of reciprocation but you smile once more, choosing to ignore what happened.

You aimlessly play with her hand, interlocking and separating your fingers from hers, then repeating. You press a kiss on the back of her hand, and profess again, "I love you."

"But I don't expect you to say it back, ever." You finish, a sense of melancholy coming over you. You stare into her eyes, searching for something - anything. "And I suppose that's okay. I'll still love you all the same."

"Nothing can ever stop me from loving you."

Arlecchino merely nods, and the conversation dies out into silence just like that. Soon enough, you succumb to slumber, your grip on her hand loosens and Arlecchino is left to simply staring at you.

When she knows there is nothing to lose, she risks it all and lets her fingers trace featherlight touches on your skin - each touch gentle and delicate, unbefitting for someone of her prestige. Unbefitting of someone such as Arlecchino.

It's bizarre - how Arlecchino wreaks havoc and leaves the battlefield with blood stained hands and for those same hands to touch another human being as if you're made from fine glass.

She sighs, light and airy.

Arlecchino knows.

She knows that you think she doesn't love you back - an unrequited love. She knows that you think she only sees you as a means to an end, a connection to get closer to obtaining the Hydro Archon's Gnosis. She knows that once her business is done in Fontaine, she'll have to leave you.

And when that happens, she'll leave you heartbroken and alone, heart shattered into a million smithereens. Perhaps her experience with you will scar your perception of love, or maybe not. But one thing she's sure of is that you'll find someone else down the line, and as fate has foretold, you'll fall in love and when you die, it's them in your heart - not her.

Arlecchino can't have that. She loathes the idea of someone else replacing her standing in your life, as selfish as it may be.

No, Arlecchino does not believe in love, what she feels for you isn't love. It's something far, far greater.

Her feelings transcend what it means to be human, for no sane person in love would do what she's about to do.

Inside a room in an Apartelle in Fontaine, Arlecchino rises up from the covers of your bed, still naked, and retrieves her items.

She comes back with the distinct sound of metal dragging across the ground, her sword, and you're still sleeping with lovely dreams plaguing your little mind.

You're peacefully asleep, that's good.

When she raises the sword, the metal glinting against the moonlight menacingly, you're still asleep.

When Arlecchino, a cold blooded killer, ends your life - it's peaceful. There is no struggle, your eyes are closed so there's no betrayal to be found in them. Your breathing cuts off like plucking out a fruit from a tree, and you're stuck in an eternal dream - never to wake up again.

She snuffs out the blessing given to her by Celestia like it's nothing.

Arlecchino can't love you, she doesn't love you. It's much more than love, it's the carnal want for you to the point she'd rather be the one to end your life than watch you fall in love with someone else. A truly maddening mindset to possess.

Selfish, unfair, cold-hearted Arlecchino.

Perhaps, had the circumstances been different, she'd be able to 'love' you in her own way. Had the circumstances been different, she'd say 'I love you' back.

Life is meaningless, even more so without you.

Life is meaningless and the world will end.

But, should there be an afterlife, a possibility of reincarnation, Arlecchino hopes to spend it with you once more.

[bisexualmikisayaka]

if we go by the theory that some number of the people who come to fromville are reincarnations of the original townspeople who are destined to come back again and again until the children are saved (jade, tabitha) and others are basically unlucky bystanders in their current life who get trapped with them (jim) then let’s think about other characters. namely, i agree with the theory that abby was maybe someone who was reincarnated. it’s implied she dreamed of the town when she was a child, and what was her final act? she was about to kill her son, believing she was doing the right thing (an echo of the event that kicked all of this off, something that would have ensured everyone was doomed until the next cycle because no one is free until the children are saved) but she couldn’t. because boyd, someone outside of the cycle, stopped her.

i’m quite enamored with boyd as a character who fights desperately against fate. he is adamant about how he refuses to be broken by the town, and although he knows some things like his Parkinson’s are inevitable, others he feels compelled to change. but the thing is, if my theory holds, he never should have been there at all. he was a total rando who got sucked up into this cycle of death and reincarnation and horror but he started to make things different. he made a difference in people’s lives, and most significantly, he stopped the story from repeating itself. what if jade and tabitha need someone like him to truly end the cycle - someone who was never involved in the first place but tries so fucking hard now that he’s a genuine threat to whatever controls fromville? i mean, why else would this place try so hard to break him if he didn’t pose a danger to the evil there? sure, it’s a very petty evil, who likes a cheap shot, and he did directly challenge them. but i think boyd needs to find tabitha and jade asap because i really believe he might be the key they’ve been missing in each round