#//except this is your fault for putting ideas in his head with the 'interpretation' part haha <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[frxgmcnts]

@notfrsale asked: ♛ — [sender] knocks on [receiver’s] door asking for some candy (for Yongsun and Evan, candy is up for interpretation lmao)

 fall / autumn / halloween themed prompts

A snort was let out at the request he was greeted with by his partner once he had opened the door. "You're lucky I'm not actual candy, you know? You'd never not have stomach ache." Evan chuckled, reaching out to tug the chain around Yongsun neck to tug him inside by it.

[runninriot]

inspired by the prompt Love is being able to say you’re sorry and mean it by @eyesofshinigami for @steddielovemonth day 23

sorry, not sorry

wc: 1688 | rated: t | tags: Robin Buckley is fed up with her idiot friends, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are oblivious and they’re bad at feelings, Love Confessions, Idiots to Lovers

„Why should I say sorry when he is the one acting weird. I didn’t do anything! It’s not my fault he doesn’t like me.” Steve looks at her, lips forming a bitchy pout, acting annoyed at her for bringing it up – like he really believes his own words and Robin is the one who just doesn’t get it.

Robin rolls her eyes.

God, she wants to strangle him sometimes. And Eddie, too. They are both so stupid, acting like they don’t like each other when everyone and their mother can see the longing looks they throw at each other whenever they are in the same room.

It’s been driving her mad.

They’ve been dancing around each other for weeks now, putting up fronts, acting like they just barely tolerate each other’s presence. Like they are forced to get along because of their mutual friends.

It’s bullshit. Sure, these two would’ve never met if it wasn’t for the little shitheads they both took under their wings (or maybe Dustin and his friends are actually the ones that took Eddie and Steve under theirs because the teens are clearly a lot more mature than these two idiots) but now that their worlds have collided, it’s so obvious that there is a connection between them neither wants to admit to.

   “You could’ve at least asked him to come?”

   “Robs, he didn’t even look at me when he came in earlier. What makes you think he wants to come to my place when he made it clear that he hates everything about the idea of spending time there?”

Steve is having a party on Saturday, invited everyone over, except for Eddie. Not because he purposely meant to exclude him but because Eddie’s been teasing him about it all week. Whenever Steve mentioned his plans, Eddie made a silly comment about how lame it sounds. ‘Bet the music will be all pop and no taste.’ – ‘Just beer? Come on, Harrington, grow up.’ – ‘Oh, a sleepover? Great! Are we gonna do pillow fights and face masks and all that fancy shit, too?’

Yeah, maybe Steve has a point. Eddie really didn’t make it seem like he wanted to be part of it. And it’s not really Steve’s fault for not understanding that Eddie is doing that out of self-protecting reasons. That he’d rather pretend to hate the idea of spending the night at Steve’s than having to live with the rejection of Steve not wanting him there in the first place. Steve is oblivious.

And obviously, Eddie is too.

And okay, Steve hasn’t exactly been showing Eddie that he cares for him either. Always pretends to be annoyed at him. Always bitching about the stupidest and most inane things like – ‘Yeah how about you grow up Mr Dungeon Master?! Aren’t you a little too old to keep playing games with teens?’ – ‘Jesus, Eddie, you know there’s a thing called hair brush one can use to tame that frizzy mop on your head?’ – ‘No thank you, I don’t want to be driving around in your van. That thing looks like it’s gonna fall apart any second.’

They’re constantly bickering and bantering, always so quick to be at each other’s throats. That is, until they think that no one is looking.

Because Steve actually loves to listen to Eddie talk when he’s leading the teens through a campaign, uses all these various voices to interpret the different characters he created.

And Robin just knows Steve’s finger itch to take care of Eddie’s unruly curls himself but he would never offer, would never say it out loud.

Robin can see the way Eddie’s gaze follows Steve around Family Video when he’s talking to her while Steve is attending to another customer – a sickly sweet smile on his lips, with eyes that are basically heart-shaped.

The way he blushes whenever Steve walks around shirtless and in his stupid, tiny shorts (ugh, men), tries and fails so hard every time not to stare with his mouth hanging open.

It’s like they’re both so desperately trying to convince themselves that they hate each other, when all of their stolen glances and hidden smiles keep giving them away.

   “You know how stubborn he is. I am pretty sure he would’ve said yes. But you didn’t ask and maybe now he thinks you don’t want him there. Did you think about that?”

Steve worries his bottom lip, looks like he’s contemplating what to say.

   “He hates me,” is all he offers and the sadness in his eyes breaks Robin’s heart.

-

   “Talk to him, Eddie.”

   “Pff, why should I? I’m not that desperate to attend some stupid party. What do you want me to say to him? Hey, sorry for making fun of you, could I maybe still get a pity invite so I don’t have to spend my Saturday alone and miserable while you’re all having a fun time? Yeah, no. Thanks.”

She’s gonna lose it with these two at some point. Robin has been trying. Beating around the bush, talking about that stupid party like it is the real problem just because neither Steve nor Eddie are ready to admit what it is really about.

   “What if I want you there. You’re my friend and I want to spend time with you too.”

   “I appreciate it, Bucks. I really do. And I love to hang out with you any time. But this is Steve’s party and if he doesn’t want me there, I have to accept it.”

She wants to shake him. Yell at him to drop the act and be fucking for real, just once.

   “Edward Albert Munson.”

The use of his full name has the desired effect of getting his full attention, eyes blown wide and his expression a mix of appalled and impressed.

   “Can you, for the love of anything that’s holy, stop pretending to be so above everything and just tell him already?!”

She knows it’s a little unfair to put that burden on Eddie when she could’ve told Steve the same. But she knows that between the two, Eddie will be easier to convince.

   “What are you talking about?” Eddie tries, but the blush on his cheeks tells her he knows exactly what she means.

   “You know what I’m talking about. I’m sick and tired of watching you guys pining for each other when you could’ve been making out for weeks now if you would just fucking talk.”

   “What?!” This time, Eddie seems genuinely stunned.

   “You two are perfect for each other. You’re both incredibly stupid and so far up your own asses, that you don’t see what you’re missing out on.”

She crosses her arms before her chest, suppresses the urge to smile triumphantly when she sees Eddie crumble as the realisation hits.

-

Steve is in the kitchen, preparing some snacks and drinks, when the doorbell rings. Everyone is already there, they’re all in the living room having a great time, so Steve thinks it might just be their pizza delivery.

   “Robs, can you get that?”

There’s no answer. Either she doesn’t hear him over the music or, more likely, she ignores him. Steve huffs, drops the bag of chips on the counter and goes to open the door.

He’s fumbling with his wallet, not even looking at the person standing on the bottom of his front steps, when a familiar voice gets his attention.

   “Hey, Steve.”

   “Eddie? What are you-“

Steve’s heart suddenly picks up speed when his eyes drift to Eddie’s lips, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners.

   “I wanted to apologize. I’ve been-“

   “No problem, man! I gotta say sorry, too. I should’ve just invited you and stop making such a big deal out of it.”

   “Not about- okay, yeah that too but- I’m sorry for being a dick. I’m sorry for- for not being honest with you. And I get that this not the best timing but a little bird told me to man up and-“

Steve’s mind is racing. He doesn’t have a clue where Eddie is going with this. Or maybe he does but he doesn’t want to hold up his hopes because surely, Eddie isn’t going to say what he wants him to.

   “I’m not sorry for making you feel like I don’t like you because the truth is, I don’t.”

Steve looks down at his own feet, needs a moment to process, a moment to breathe.

    Huh?

  “It’s more like, I’m totally gone for you, Steve. I want you in ways that scare me. I’m sorry for making you think I’m not head over heels in love with you and your stupid perfect hair and your annoying kindness and just... everything about you that’s had me losing sleep for weeks now.”

  “Oh.”

   “I’m sorry, Eddie,” he says when he looks back up, tries not to sound too excited because he feel like he deserves just a little revenge for the way Eddie phrased his earth shattering confession and nearly gave Steve a heart attack with it.

But then Eddie’s eyes fill with tears and there’s defeat written on his face and-

 No, that’s not what Steve wants.

   “I’m sorry for not doing this sooner.”

He surges forward, nearly misses a step when he flings himself at Eddie, wraps his arms around the other man’s neck and draws him into a kiss.

The kiss is desperate, full of regret for depriving himself of the wonderful feeling of Eddie’s plush lips on his. Dripping with want, spilling all the words he didn’t say, words he wants Eddie to know, to feel in every part of his body.

    I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you.

They are too caught up in the moment; too busy making out to notice Robin standing in the doorway, who came looking for Steve. There’s a huge smile on her face and she knows she’ll regret it because they will be insufferable together. But right now, all she is sorry for is not stepping in sooner.

Because they might be idiots but they’re her idiots and they deserve to be in love.

[away-ward]

I like your characterization of will so much better than mine. Its hard to wrap my head around the fact that he didn’t really grovel. Emmy was just sort of forced to accept him without really seeing that big of a change in him. Another thing is he was all talk no action when it came to his declarations of love towards em. Again I struggle with the fact that will COULD be loyal towards her when his past indicates otherwise. I feel like your characterization of will is closer to pd’s version (I guess 🤷🏻‍♀️) than the one in my head where I think he is undeserving of emmy.

Hiya! Thanks so much, I guess 😅 I know I take a more positive interpretation of Will than most. It makes me happy that people seem more appreciative of it than totally put off.

I don't know how close my interpretation is to PDs actually. Like with the tampon thing? I was aghast that Will wouldn't immediately go get the tampons for Emory. After everything he's put her through, store runs are the very least he can do for the love of his life, his very own dream girl. No matter how "embarrassing" it is. 30-year-old Will crying over being seen with a box of tampons?

#Not-my-Will

But anyway. I think one of the reasons I don't have a problem with the idea of Will's loyalty is because I don't think Will's ever been in a committed relationship, so we don't know how seriously he takes his commitments. What we do know is that he is loyal, almost to a fault, and that he loves Emory more than anything else, and has for a long time. He doesn't have a track record of betrayal. I'd be more worried about Damon, or even Michael, than Will, honestly. It seems to me that people are worried about Will because he was so open about his sex life.

To me, his exploits with women have always been a way to kill time, have fun, and forget Emory. When he no longer needs to do any of those things, his need for free, quick sex with randos would also be absent (because he's getting it from Emory). None of those women ever mattered, except for Alex on a friendship level, but I've never seen them as being unable to resist each other. At least, not like how he's unable to resist Emory. Alex and Will have always just be keeping each other company in my eyes until they could be happy again.

I've also never minded him not grovelling, but that doesn't mean I think their resolution and finally committing to each other was perfect. I would have loved a little more give on Will's part. I agree that he got off too easy, but I see that more of an error in the story than with the character. He acknowledged his mistakes and that showed me that he had a readjustment in his thinking.

However, in PDs q&a on Goodreads before Nightfall came out, they answered someone's ask indicating that Will was the most justified in his hatred towards Emory, which told me that PD thought Emory deserved to carry some responsibility and guilt for what happened. This is something I don't agree with, but I conclude that it's the reason Will doesn't grovel more - PD thinks he doesn't have to because there's an equal amount of pain, hurt, and regret on both sides. I do think that both had a share in the pain and hurt, but I don't think it's equal.

Whatever. He admitted he was wrong. The rest of the making it up to her can happen in my imagination. And it does!

It so does.

Well, kudos to you for sticking with an OTP when you don't feel that one deserves the other, or even really like one half of the pairing. I've always felt a little bad when I see that happen to other people. Hope you're able to find a way to like will so you full appreciate everything that willemmy can be - in your own way, of course. Find a way that works for you. It's a lot more fun that way.

Thanks for the message!

-KO

[latetaektalk]

(he)art thief | jjk [i, preview]

“jungkook is charming, kind, smart, and funny. jungkook is the guy to fall in love with. he is perfect in every sense, except that he is also a member of a notorious heist group and only getting close to you to steal from you. but what does he do when he starts to fall for you? who does he choose? his brothers or you?

genre: heist! AU, thief! jungkook, art curator daughter! oc, ocean’s! AU, fluff, angst, sexual themes/implied smut (in later chapters)

pairing: jungkook x female reader

estimated word count: 35 to 40k

warnings: cursing/swearing, a bit of alcohol consumption

a/n: this is loosely based off the ocean’s film! to be added to the taglist, shoot me an ask/message! also, gureum is jungkook’s dog! and thank you to movie club for helping me come up with this amazing title!!

coming sunday, may 30th 2021  

Jungkook avoids playgrounds.

Does so because when he was at the tender age of just seven, he fell off a swing. He ended up in the hospital (his first but not last visit); seven stitches, his mother told him, but he could swear it was a million.

Needless to say, Jungkook has been avoiding playgrounds like the plague ever since.

But here he is, in the middle of one, dog leash in his hand, and heart pounding in his chest so violently it might just explode.

A mob of boys runs past him, all of them no older than six—which means that, for the most part at least, they’re harmless—but still, Jungkook flinches. It’s embarrassing, even more so because Gureum turns and stares at him. If one of them should flinch, it should be Gureum, with him being a dog and Jungkook a full grown adult, but God, today is just not his day. He’s stressed! Out of it! Nervous! A wreck-

“Did you just flinch?”

Jungkook feels his heart drop. Fuck, he thought he walked out of sight!

“No, I didn’t, Tae,” he hisses, pressing the earpiece further into his ear.

“You flinched! We can still see you- ah, okay, not anymore. But we saw that-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I definitely did not flinch-”

“Denying it is pointless. We all saw it. Back me up here, Jimin.”

“You definitely flinched.”

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks, is about to walk back to the car and tell them that they must be hallucinating because he definitely did not flinch when-

“Can you see her already, Kook?” Namjoon asks and for a moment, Jungkook forgot why he is here, you.

He looks around himself, and it doesn’t take him long to find you, sitting on a bench, under a big tree, soft shadows dancing on your skin.

“Yeah, I-I see her,” Jungkook says under his breath.

“Okay, good. I’m gonna need you to focus up then,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook nods like Namjoon could see him.

“Yeah, if you screw this up, it’s your fault if we end up in jail-”

“Tae!” Namjoon warns, and judging from the ‘ow’ that follows, someone punched him. Jungkook’s guess is Jimin.

“What? I’m just saying-”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you come,” Namjoon mumbles and runs a hand down his face. “Hey, Kook, don’t listen to Tae, yeah? He’s just messing with you.”

“Yeah… I know,” Jungkook mutters, and he means it. He really does know that Taehyung is messing with him, but there’s a part of him that takes it to heart, that is worried sick about how he’s going to fuck this up and be the reason for why they all end up in jail.

“Don’t worry, Kook,” Jimin cuts in, taking the phone from Namjoon. “We’ve got your back. All you have to do is repeat after me, say what I say. You’ve got this. Remember what I taught you?”

“Always smile and laugh and never talk about yourself. Keep the conversation about the other person because people love talking about themselves,” Jungkook repeats, and looks at you again, heart heavy in his chest.

He shouldn’t feel like this, wishes he wouldn’t. But he can’t help it. This isn’t how he imagined he’d meet you. Jungkook thought he’d meet you at some fancy event, sipping expensive champagne, or at some luxury clothing store maxing out your parents’ credit card—after all, your mother is a world famous art curator. But instead you spend your time at playgrounds, babysitting.

There’s actually no reason for Jungkook to be this nervous. Jimin did practise with him this exact scenario, but he can’t help but think that with a flute in his hands and some alcohol buzzing through his system, he’d feel more comfortable. But here he is, in the middle of a sea of children.

“Kook, do you copy?”

“What? Sorry, I wasn’t…” Jungkook pauses. He shouldn’t admit that he wasn’t listening.

“Get your head in the game, please,” Namjoon tells him over the earpiece.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m here,” Jungkook says and starts to walk again even though he still feels fucking lost as a goddamn adult at a playground. Gureum follows him when he tugs on the dog leash.

“Okay, good. Just- just try your best,” Namjoon says, voice a bit muffled. “You’ve got this.”

Jungkook could swear that there’s a waiver to his words.

“Don’t worry. We’re here,” Taehyung tells him before Jungkook can think about it too much, distracting him from the quiver he heard.

He stops behind a tree, close enough for Gureum to spot you, but not close enough for you to spot them. His knees crack when he kneels down to stroke Gureum’s ear.

“Hey, Gureum? I’m gonna unleash you in a second and then I’m gonna need you to run towards,” Jungkook points as discreetly as possible to you, “her, yeah? Just like we practised? Remember? Remember how you ran towards Seok and Yoongi? Do it exactly like that again, okay? If you do, I’ll get you your favourite treat.”

Gureum doesn’t run away instantly when Jungkook unclips him because he’s trained, but when he points at you and whistles, he’s gone.

You react surprisingly calm to a dog barreling towards you, barely flinching. You lean down and greet Gureum.

“Approaching target now,” Jungkook mumbles quietly and can only faintly register how Namjoon tells Taehyung to be quiet from now on, all of his attention on the mission now.

With the leash in his hand, Jungkook jogs towards you, heaving extra hard to sell the act of a dog-owner-who-has-been-chasing-his-dog-for-the-last-ten-minutes to you.

You look up to him when he stops in front of you, eyeing him. Jungkook stands there, bend over, his hands on his knees, breathing like he’s struggling to catch his breath.

“Uh…. hi,” you start, brows pinched together.

Jungkook puts on his most charming smile, ignoring his thumping heart to the best of his abilities.

“Hi.”

“Oh, we’re starting- okay, showtime: I’m sorry, are you okay? My dog- he just ran and I couldn’t stop him. I’m so sorry,” Jimin says in his ear.

“I-I’m so sorry.” There’s a quiver to Jungkook’s voice, and it isn’t on purpose. “Are you okay? He just ran and I-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him with a small smile, still petting Gureum who has clearly taken a liking to you. During practise with Seokjin and Yoongi, Gureum always ran back to Jungkook, but now he’s staying at your feet, relishing in your pets. “Is that your dog?”

“Yes, yes, it is. I’m so sorry. I just unleashed him for a second, but then he ran away and I couldn’t catch up with him. Are you okay?”

“Yes, and I’m so sorry. I just unleashed him for a moment, thinking it was okay, but-”

“Can you prove it?” you interrupt and Jungkook pauses. “I mean that it’s your dog. It’s just that he isn’t really reacting to you, you know?”

Jimin’s response comes a bit late. “Oh, yes, I can. His name’s Gureum and he is- what’s the breed of your dog again? I don’t remember. If you look at his collar, you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

“Oh, yeah, I can,” Jungkook smiles, wiping the non existent sweat from his temple. “His name’s Gureum and he’s a white Maltese dog. If you look at his collar, you’ll see that I’m not lying.”

You actually look at the collar and part of Jungkook is offended that you don’t just believe him. Does he look like a liar to you? “Actually, I have pictures too-”

“No, no, it’s fine. I believe you,” you say before gesturing for Gureum to go back to Jungkook. He does, but somewhat reluctantly and Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret this.

“Ask her if she’s okay again.”

“Are you really okay?” Jungkook says and offers you a smile the way Jimin taught him to. “I really am sorry about-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him and wave him off. “Nothing happened. Don’t worry about it. Just leash your dog.”

And then, you turn away from him. Jungkook stands there awkwardly for another moment before kneeling down to Gureum, absentmindedly petting him, mind filled with questions because what now? How does he communicate to the others that you turned away from him? That the conversation has ended and he has no idea how to start it again?

“What’s going on Kook? Is she smiling-”

“Ah, Gureum, no,” Jungkook cuts in. “Don’t turn away- I can’t leash you if you do that. Don’t turn away.”

“Oh, shit, she turned away, huh?”

“What now, Jimin?”

“Shush, Joon. Let me think, yeah?”

Jungkook fiddles with the leash like he has a problem clipping it, hoping that maybe you’re going to offer him your help. You don’t. And why would you? He’s an adult after all.

Before Jimin can come up with anything though, the solution to the problem presents itself. It comes in the form of a girl running and tripping right next to Jungkook and him catching her just in time before she can faceplant in the dirt and scrape her knees open.

“Oh, hey, careful here!” Jungkook brings the girl back up on her two feet. She stares at him with big eyes, and he recognises her from the pictures. It’s Siyeon, the seven year old girl you babysit regularly, the reason why you’re spending your afternoon at a playground today. ”You okay?”

“Kook, what’s happening right now?” Namjoon asks.

Siyeon looks at you, and you’re already kneeling beside her, fixing her hair.

“Siyeon, I told you not to run. See, you almost fell now!” You say it the same way a mother would, less strict though. “If he hadn’t caught you, you would have hurt yourself, wouldn’t you have? Now, what do you say?”

“T-thank you,” Siyeon mumbles, and Jungkook isn’t sure if she’s staring at her hands because she’s embarrassed or just about to cry.

“Who’s that? Who are you talking to? Who’s he talking to?”

“Was that a kid?”

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks Siyeon, ignoring Namjoon and Taehyung to the best of his abilities.

“Y-yes, thank you.” She won’t look at him.

Jungkook smiles. “Well, I’m happy that you didn’t get hurt there.”

“Kook, answer please. Do you need help?”

“Should we interfere?”

Jungkook’s about to snap. Does it seriously sound like he needs help? He’s talking to a seven year old, for fuck’s sake! Sure, he didn’t practise this scenario, but God, he was capable of improvising!

“Thank you. She’s really clumsy,” you say to Jungkook.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m like that too. After all, I let,” he looks down at Gureum and finishes his sentence by gesturing to him and then you. You laugh.

And that’s when Siyeon seems to notice Gureum for the first time, eyes growing big at his sight like she has never seen a dog before. A chance.

“His name’s Gureum. You wanna-”

“Do you think we should go over there? See if he’s okay?”

And with that, Jungkook snaps. Yoongi is going to give him an earful for destroying his oh so precious equipment, but he can’t do this any longer with Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung in his ear. So in one smooth movement, Jungkook digs out the earpiece and crushes it between his fingers, hiding it in his hand.

“Sorry, a fly, I think,” Jungkook says, swatting at his ear, and before you can think about it, he moves on. “Do you wanna pet Gureum, S- Is it okay if I call you Siyeon?”

Siyeon stares at Jungkook like he can’t believe he just asked her that. It’s probably the first time an adult has asked her for permission to call her by her name, and she seems to appreciate it immensely because she beams at him and gives him a huge nod.

“Okay, Siyeon, do you maybe wanna pet Gureum? He doesn’t bite, I promise.” Jungkook can feel your eyes on him. He’s doing it, charming you!

Siyeon turns to you.

“Can I-?”

You hum. “If Gureum is okay with it-”

Siyeon kneels down. “Hello, Mr Gureum. Sir, can I please pet you?”

Jungkook melts, and so do you.

Receiving no response from Gureum, Siyeon looks back up to you. Jungkook quickly takes his paw and waves. “Hello, Mrs Siyeon, if you promise not to hurt me, you can pet me. I like it especially if humans pet me at the back of my head. Just, please, be nice to me.”

In all of the years he has had Gureum, Jungkook has never tried to imagine what his voice would sound like, but he knows for a fact that he doesn’t sound like a chain smoker. It’s a questionable choice, but he doesn’t regret it. Because not only does it make Siyeon laugh, it also elicits a chuckle from you.

You look at him with a grin. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, have I?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jungkook says, and you two rise to your feet when Siyeon starts to pet Gureum and he doesn’t bite her.

“Well,” you stretch out your hand, “I’m Y/N.”

Jungkook swallows the ‘I know’ that wants to slip him and takes your hand. He has to stop himself from bursting with pride, only allowing his smile to grow into a blinding grin.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, and he means it. It’s really nice to meet you. “I’m Jungkook.”

coming sunday, may 30th 2021

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

One of my favorite narrative choices/interpretations in twdg is how tied together Clementine’s “death” scene and Lee’s death are. Yeah sure, there are the obvious visual parallels but that’s not exactly what I’m talking about.

For the longest time, I was one of the people who always shot Lee, y’know? It just makes sense, you can’t let Lee become a walker, it’s so much more tragic for Clementine to be the one to put him down. Clearly shooting him is the right answer. After all, the player percentages don’t lie.

But then years passed and I eventually played the other route where I asked Clementine to leave Lee, and I am no longer one of those people.

Don’t get me wrong. Both endings make me cry. They’re powerful in different ways, but there’s something about the way that leaving Lee to turn into a walker can affect an interpretation of TFS and Clementine as a character.

[note: this turned into a bit of a Clementine character analysis and it’s long and I’m sorry that this is the way I am]

Y’see, having played through the series as much as I have, I’ve grown to love this narrative that you can build leading back to this choice and the ways it stuck with Clementine over the years, and subsequently affects the way she raises AJ.

When you ask Clementine to leave Lee, he gets the chance to give her a little more advice and it get progressively heavy:

Lee: You can leave me. It's okay.

Clementine: You'll be just like them.

Lee: It's okay. It won't be me.

Clementine: Lee...

Lee: Clem, it's time to go. You gotta get out of here.

Clementine: You can come with me.

Lee: No, honey, I can't. It's okay.

Clementine: Please?

Lee: You have to go, now.

Clementine: Maybe...maybe...I shouldn't let you turn.

Lee: I don't want you to have to do that.

From here, you have a set of options that allows Lee to explain why she shouldn’t shoot him: Shooting people changes you and Lee doesn’t want Clem to get used to that, she can remember him alive as her last memory of him rather than her shooting him, she should save the bullet, or the noise will draw more attention than it’s worth.

After that, depending on your choices, he’ll further explain himself. I usually get:

Lee: Pulling the trigger of a gun and ending a life, Clem...you feel yourself lose something every time. The first time, the most. Don't do it unless you absolutely have to.

Clementine: I'll go. I'll...leave you. I'll go as fast as I can.

Lee: And as safe as you can. Always be safe.

Lee is barely breathing at this point, he can’t keep his eyes open, he looks like he’s on the verge of turning into a walker at any moment. Clementine, gun her in her little hands, turns to him and one last time, asks him not to go.

Like… the whole scene is more than enough to make you teary eyed.

There are a lot of reasons for making this choice, most of which you’re allowed to explain through Lee. Some people have a more logical take on this by saying that it doesn’t matter if Lee turns or not, Clementine isn’t in danger with him chained up, therefore she doesn’t have to waste a bullet in killing him. That bullet might be the difference between life and death in the future. 

Then there’s a more emotional approach of not wanting Clementine to be the one to have to kill Lee, forever traumatizing her even further after everything she went through with the stranger and her parents. Lee can’t ask her to do that, he can’t force this little girl to kill him just so that he won’t turn into a walker. It’ll change her.

I like to think it’s all of the above. Lee’s made sure that he can’t get to her, she’s armed and knows how to protect herself, and he cares more about her having an extra bullet that could save her life rather than wasting it on him when no matter what, death is inevitable for him. It’s like what he says about Larry if you tried to save him: 

“It's like with Larry, honey. He was goin', one way or another. But at that moment I couldn't do more violence. You have to be careful about that. It'll consume you.”

She shouldn’t do that if she doesn’t have to. Lee has no idea what’s going to happen after he dies, if he’ll just be dead and gone or if part of him will remain as a walker, or something else. He reassures her that the walker left in his place won’t actually be him, but no one actually knows that. Yet, that doesn’t matter, he cares more about Clementine than himself at this point.

But what does this choice do to Clementine?

Sure, she doesn’t have to live with the fact that she killed the man who swore to protect her, even after she was indirectly responsible for him getting bitten in the first place. He asked her to leave him there, to let him become a monster, to leave before she could see him like that. He makes sure she knows that this was the right thing, the best thing for everyone, and I do think she believed him, or at least want to, in that moment. Underneath her grief and stress of the worst day of her life, she at least had Lee’s last words to her and his reassurance that she’s going to make it through this.

But then we move onto the other seasons, and Clementine isn’t the little girl she was in the first season. Season two is pretty much summed up with: “Clementine does ANYTHING and gets punished for it.”

She goes through so much shit in S2. You can try to make all the morally good choices you want and Clementine will still end up getting slapped around, people she grows to care about fall dead all around her, and she gets a lot of blame for it. She’s forced to kill a dog that attacks her, Kenny lashes out at her more than once, blaming her for Sarita’s death no matter what you do, she can’t save Sarah, she couldn’t save Luke, everything is falling apart and by the end, everyone’s fucking dead with the exception of either Jane or Kenny, depending on you choices. 

Clementine carries all this shit with her, like Kenny and Bonnie telling her that just because she’s a little girl, she thinks she can get people killed and it’s okay since she’s sorry. Of course she’s going to internalize all of it and bring it back to Lee. She has conversations with Kenny where she’ll open up about how it was her fault he died. Kenny, for all his faults, will usually try to reassure her that it wasn’t.... but then pulls the shit he does so y’know... mixed messages that help no one.

But by the end of it, no matter what ending you get, little newborn AJ is left in Clementine’s care.

From all of this, we know that Clementine tends to blame herself for the deaths of those she cares about, which is traced back to Lee. It’s when we get to ANF that her tune changes a bit. She’s jaded, bitter, selfish, and Lee was right..... all of this violence did change her. 

I mean, she just fucking shoots the guy who traded her bad bullets, and while she didn’t mean to... she still pointed a loaded gun at his head and pulled the trigger, something Lee taught her to never do unless she had to. Then, she wants Javi to cover for her, to lie... and if you don’t, because hey murder and lying bad, she gets upset and tries to make Javi feel like an asshole for telling the truth rather than validating her actions.

When I say ANF Clementine is my least favorite, it’s because her behavior, while it makes sense, is so frustrating and unbearable at times. It making sense doesn’t excuse it. 

She steals, lies, pulls several Kennys where she gets pissy when you don’t do what she wants you to, is willing to assist in Lingard’s death if it benefits her without even considering any other options or what a dark place he’s in, and she’s at a point where she just assumes everyone around her will inevitably die or leave her. That’s just what happens, that’s why she’s alone, and as a means of coping, she tries to spin it this way to alleviate some of the pain she’s had thrown at her for years.

Now, ANF Clementine isn’t all bad, she has a lot of redeeming moments where the Clem I knew in the past two seasons will shine through. You as Javi can help her grow and get onto a better path than the one she was goin’ down. She makes friends with Gabe, which is important since as far as we know, she hasn’t had a friend close to her age since Sarah. She has hope again after David tells her AJ survived, and she has more than just survival on her mind.

It’s just.... it’s sad to think that she’s at a point where she seems to have momentarily forgotten Lee’s final words to her. And when I think about it..... this behavior would almost make more sense if she DID shoot Lee, y’know? But in this timeline we’re discussing, she didn’t, she left him to turn and he gave his reasons for why he wanted that... but she still ended up this way. Nothing he could say or do could’ve prevented that. 

But at the end of ANF, Clementine has one goal: get AJ back.

Through all of this, through ANF and before the events of TFS... I truly believe that Clementine lost herself. 

She’s forgotten a lot of the things Lee taught her, she’s forgotten about her parents in the sense of “what would they think if they saw me now,” she’s overwhelmed with all that bad that those good things, that hope she had, has been put on the backburner.

She’s been forced to live in a world that’s cruel to you no matter if you’re “good” or “bad”, and that can put you into that selfish mindset where you tend to just disregard everyone you don’t have any emotional connection to, and even then, people you’re close to will get the same treatment, whether intentional or not. It’s unflattering, unlikable, and the only reason more people don’t see that is because it’s Clementine. 

It gets to a point where she has a few different paths she can go on, and right now, she’s on a destructive one. 

I think through knowing the Garcia’s, she was put on a better path but she’s still lost. She’s hyper focused on getting AJ back. Nothing else matters, nothing will stand in her way, and that leads to a breaking point in her character.

So...the McCarroll Ranch flashback is a thing. 

The varying interpretations of this scene are interesting to discuss.

Some will say Clementine was continuing her extremely selfish and destructive behavior when she found the ranch in flames and was willing to commit more murder in order to get AJ back, even if it meant traumatizing him with the death of his caretaker, and if she had shown up earlier before they were under attack, who knows how far she would’ve gone to take him away.

Others say no, that Clementine found the ranch compromised, she was acting in self-defense when she shot Eddie and AJ’s caretaker, Helen. It was either her or Clementine, as Helen was pulling a gun out when she spotted Clem, who reacted accordingly. If she hadn’t shown up, perhaps AJ wouldn’t be alive right now. We don’t know. 

For me, it’s a bit of both. She finds the ranch and panics because yeah, it’s on fire and there are assholes running around, shooting the place up. She holds Eddie at gunpoint, demanding to know where the kids are. He thinks she’s another asshole raider and even tells her that he’s not gonna let her take a kid, and she kills him. She doesn’t try to explain herself, she just demands the info and kills him. It’s not great, but yeah, he would've hurt her if she didn’t kill him. 

Then, she hears Helen talking to AJ, who is in the locker. I don’t know why she didn’t say anything. There isn’t an option to. Maybe she thought silence was the more peaceful route, or it would give her an upper hand. But, then Helen hears here and panics, pulls out a gun, and Clementine shoots her.

This is the moment. 

She shoots this woman in the children’s room, and after examining her body, realizes that she was the one caring for AJ. Clementine is looking over this woman, and you get pieces of her thoughts like-

“She was taking care of him”

“I had no choice”

“I’m sorry”

Then, Clementine finally gets what she’s longed for- she has AJ back... and he’s covered in blood, sobbing, terrified of her. She coaxes him out of the locker and he sees his caretaker dead on the floor.

This scene, with Clementine looking at the body, walking through rubble and fire to put AJ in the car, he’s staring up at her with this unfamiliar look in his eyes.... and she stops for a second... 

I truly feel like this is the moment where Clementine is suddenly hit by everything all at once, and she’s actually questioning, “Oh god..... who am I? How did I get here and what have I done?”

She did all of this for AJ, and now she has him, so it was worth it, right? Everything she did was a necessary evil and it was worth it... right?

... but imagine if Clementine did inject Lingard, killing him. She assisted in a man's death to get here. Was taking his life necessary? If you know how the choices work, then no, it’s not. But Clementine doesn’t know that. 

If you stopped her, then she still gunned down several people to stand where she is. She’s has left AJ so wounded by killing Helen, and while we know she didn’t have a choice in the moment, AJ doesn’t understand that. He doesn’t even recognize Clementine and she can see that in the way he looks at her.

“Pulling the trigger of a gun and ending a life, Clem...you feel yourself lose something every time.....”

TFS is where I think Clementine has found herself again and that’s why she’s more balanced and likable, and there are more references to Lee and her parents.... yeah, I know it’s mostly the writers doing it for fanservice and to make us cry, but I’m choosing to look at it in the narrative rather than with that intention.

Clementine has AJ back, she’s been raising him the best way she can, she’s taught him to use a gun since he needs to protect himself, and Lee taught her when she was little, too. She’s taught him to read,  taught him survival techniques she’s picked up, all that. She’s also more playful with him, she smiles more. She’s not a bitter 13-year-old like in ANF. Survival and safety is #1 and her attitude is mostly serious, but she isn’t afraid to tease or be a little silly.

But here’s the deal..... usually when I replay the series, I’ll leave Lee to turn but I’ll have Clementine tell AJ that if she ever gets bit, he’ll shoot her.

“What?” I hear you say. “But... haven’t you been rambling on and on about how murder bad and how leaving Lee was better because she didn’t have to live with the fact that she killed him?? but you want AJ to?? CJ you make no sense!”

I know that, but allow me to elaborate. Remember, this is all my interpretation after years of replaying this series. This is the narrative I find most enjoyable. This is my Clementine and the way I interpret her. 

So, Clementine listens to Lee and leaves him to turn into a walker. He tells her that it won’t be him, he’ll be dead and gone, save the bullet. Yeah, yeah, I already covered this. But remember my “what does this do to Clementine?” question?

I swingin’ back to it because I didn’t really answer it directly, now did I? It’s basically followed up with another question: What if Clementine comes to regret leaving Lee instead of shooting him?

She herself even says that maybe she shouldn’t let him turn, and he tells her he doesn’t want her to have to do that. She listened to him, and left him behind to turn into one of the monsters that tore their world apart. She’s lived with the fact that she’s the reason Lee was bitten, that he died.... but there was always another thing that pricked needles into her guilt: Lee’s a walker. He’s going to spend the rest of eternity as a walker handcuffed to a heater. There is the big possibility that no one will ever find him, will never kill this walker version of him.

Was that the right thing to do? 

I don’t know about you, but the walker debate is kinda fun to explore, and oh boy, do they try to explore it in TFS.

It’s easy for us to be like “Nope, there is nothing to walkers because they’re dead. Nothing human is left behind. Leaving Lee is fine.” 

…but then I have to ask, why did most people shoot him when the episode released? Why do people still pick that option? You don’t want Lee to be a walker, but at the same time, it’s actually fine because nothing about him would be left behind?

Is it because you couldn’t handle seeing him as a walker and didn’t know if the ending would show it or not? It doesn’t, you know that now. Were you afraid he would hurt anyone else? Well, you chained him up. He’s not going anywhere. He’s no longer a threat. 

So why do so many people still choose to shoot Lee and insist it’s the right choice even if by this logic, it doesn’t matter if he’s a walker because it’s not him? Save the bullet, don’t put Clementine through that, right? 

Maybe you just like the way the tragedy plays out when Clementine shoots him, and that’s perfectly fine. Maybe you don’t believe there’s more to walkers, but still pick this because how can you not? It’s Lee! He can’t become a walker.

Again, I feel you. My reasons for always shooting him in the past were that. It’s Lee, he can’t become a walker. I can’t do that to him. I love him, and that would be wrong. 

But that’s the thing... I believe we’re not the only ones having this debate. Clementine is having this internal debate within herself at different points over the series, but it’s especially prominent in TFS. 

Lee asked her to leave him, but was that really the right thing to do? He took care of her, saved her life and taught her to survive, and after he was bitten, she left him to turn into a monster. He didn’t deserve that, but his final wish was for her to leave. Should she have shot him anyway, ignoring his wishes? Would that have been worse? Disrespectful? Is it okay to ignore his wish if you think he’s wrong and you think you know what’s best? 

What if there is a part of him still inside that walker form? There’s no way to know that. What if she condemned a part of him to cruel fate because she didn’t shoot him? What if he’s truly gone and she’s worrying herself over nothing? What if she had shot him and needed that bullet later, or what if the noise drew attention? 

...What about her parents? They were walkers, too... roaming the street together... are they suffering, too? Or are they truly gone? 

I believe this is what lead to her decision to tell AJ that if she ever gets bitten, he should shoot her. All of these thoughts and regrets can resurface depending on your choices, like in the dorms at the beginning of ep2.

AJ: You told me your friend Lee became a monster. But you didn't kill him... because he wasn't a threat. Is that why you didn't kill him?

Clementine: He didn't want me to. He said it would change me forever. But I know he...

AJ: He became a monster. Do you wish you did?

Clementine: Yeah.... Every day.

Or, alternatively:

Clementine: How can you ask me that? What you did is completely different.

AJ: I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make you mad, at all.

Clementine: .....I...I can still hear him. Telling me not to do it.

AJ: I said I'm sorry.

Clementine: ...I still hear it, sometimes.

and yeah, yeah, I know that this isn’t canon for everyone. Reminder that this is my Clementine interpretation and it’ll probably differ from yours, hence why we’re going over these specific choices. 

Looking at these responses, Clementine admits that she wishes she had shot Lee, that even though he told her that it would change her and she shouldn’t have to... she still left him to die alone and change. Maybe she doesn’t even fully understand WHY he asked her to do that... why didn’t he ask her to shoot him? Did he think she couldn’t? Even though he kept telling her that she had it in her to defend herself? Wasn’t he scared of what would happen afterward? What if Lee was so sick and out of it due to the bite that he wasn’t thinking right? 

Again, all these kinds of questions could possibly run through her mind, which in turn affects her choice with AJ. She doesn’t want him to go through what she did, to regret letting her turn into another monster. It’ll change him to shoot her, but it’ll also change him to let her turn.... maybe shooting her is the lesser of two evils. 

The thing about Clementine is that she’s not a perfect teacher, she doesn’t have all the answers, and all of her experiences reflect in the choices she makes with AJ. She’s trying her best. She loves AJ, he’s her family and she wants what’s best for him. She wants him to be strong, to be a better survivor who can take care of himself if something ever happened to her. But, she’s doesn’t know everything, and she forgets that yeah, AJ’s a kid... and so is she. She’s not some thirty something who has all this world experience and can always make logical decisions in every situation, and neither was Lee. 

AJ sees this towards the end of the season when he starts questioning her.

AJ: I always listened to Clem. Always. But...I've been thinking more. I don't know if she's right every time.

So while she truly believes that this is the best thing... she also won’t take AJ himself into account. Well, she does but she fails to ask him what he wants, what he thinks, and when he starts questioning her, she becomes defensive and makes him promise that he’ll shoot her even though he’s saying he doesn’t want to. 

Which leads me to two particular scenes that I think reopen the wounds and reaffirm Clementine’s thoughts and fears. We’ll start with the obvious one: James. 

I know it’s easy to just call James and his dumb walkers crazy, that walkers aren’t people, yada yada. But for fun, let’s indulge him for a moment. James is a fascinating character study with the way he’s come to view walkers, and he eventually shares these beliefs with Clementine when she asks him for help, and when you leave Lee to turn, you get this conversation:

James: They used them as a weapon. I do this...to protect them. I know it sounds strange. But that's why I brought you here. To see them as I do. As people.

Clementine: As...people?

James: Well, not people, exactly. But... Something in between. Part of us is still in there. Deep down. So few of us die anymore. We turn. Not dead, not alive.

Clementine: God, I hope that's not true. That sounds like Hell.

James: To you, maybe. I think it seems...peaceful.

AJ: Do you really think there's people inside of monsters?

James: Somewhere, yes. Think about it this way... Has someone you cared about turned?

Clementine doesn’t respond.

AJ: Clem's friend, Lee. She let him... but wishes she didn’t. 

James: Do you really think...there's nothing left of who he was?

Here’s where my Clementine will remain silent, as you can either agree or disagree with him which doesn’t feel right for her, in this case. Though a little annoying that James takes your silence personally and won’t talk about Charlie later BUT that’s a topic for another ramble. 

Anyway, Clementine doesn’t want to think about this. She’s thought about it enough, let it eat away at her longer than she should’ve, and now James is here asking her if she truly believes there’s nothing left inside the walker Lee became? She doesn’t have time to reflect on this, she has to get James’ help to save her friends. 

However, I believe this conversation stuck with her, and that’s why she gets more defensive when AJ brings up the idea that if Clem gets bit, then she should bite him, too. Like.... No, absolutely not, AJ. That’s not what we agreed on to do if she gets bit. He’ll shoot her. 

Clementine: AJ, we've talked about this. A lot. If I get bit, you know what has to happen.

AJ: I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Clementine: But you brought it up, so we're going to.

AJ: It does something weird to my stomach. Like I'm gonna get the dookies.

Clementine: AJ, I need to know you remember what we talked about. What you're supposed to do if it happens. Listen to me. If I get bit, you'll...?

AJ doesn’t respond.

Clementine: Shoot--

AJ: No! No, I'm not gonna do that.

Clementine: AJ, you promised.

AJ: I don't care. I'm not gonna shoot you! If you get bit, I'd want you to bite me, too.

Clementine: What? You don't mean that.

AJ: I don't want to be alone. Please don't be mad. I can't live with you not with me, Clem. I know we've talked about it. So much. But don't make me.

And like.... here’s an interesting thing if Clementine doubles down on this:

Clementine: Alvin Junior, if you have a gun, you shoot me. If you don't, you use your knife. No knife, a rock to the head. As many times as you have to.

AJ: I said I don't wanna!

Clementine: I don't care what you said. You will do it.

AJ: I don't care what you say!

Clementine: Goddamn it, AJ! You can't break promises.

Like jesus. She is once again so blinded by what she believes is right and what is the best option for AJ that she’s not even thinking about the fact that she’s telling him that yeah, if you have no other options, bash my face in with a rock! Holy shit, Clementine! She isn’t understanding a big thing here, the thing that factored into why Lee told her to leave him. 

Of course, there are less harsh responses but I find that one particularly interesting.

Now, lemme explore the other scene: Abel. 

So, the beginning of ep3 has Clementine and AJ talking to a tied up Abel about where the raiders took our friends. But it doesn’t take long before Abel starts spitting up blood and panicking that something’s wrong. 

Abel: Shit... I never wanted things to end like this. Everything...it all got out of hand. Now look at me. I'm a fucking mess.

AJ: Will he turn?

Abel: No! ...My...my whole life, everything I ever got, I got with my own two hands and...and my will. For my body to turn on me...to take control... I'll tell you where to find Lilly. Just promise you won't let me turn. I'm begging you.

Look, I hate Abel, he sucks..... but I also really like him as an antagonistic character and what they did with him here. 

So, we have Abel here begging for them to make sure he doesn’t turn... because Abel believes that letting some turn is cruel, he’ll even admit that he believes there are people inside of walkers and that’s why you put a bullet in them, no one deserves to be a walker. 

Abel: You wouldn't do it...you wouldn't let me become...one of those things.  What if they...what if they can feel it...when they turn?!

And after he gives you the info-

Abel: You got what you wanted. Please, don't let me become one of those things. Please... I don't want to turn...

Do keep in mind that this happens before the James scene, too. Clementine’s already got this on her mind when she meets up with him and the barn scene plays out.... but this whole thing with Abel is a lot. You can be cruel and torture him or you can play nice, or you can do a bit of both. 

And by the way, if you let him turn, it reeeally fucks with AJ. So that’s fun. 

Now not only is Clementine trying to work out a plan to get her friends back and trying to protect AJ and all that, but she’s also dealing with these thoughts and ideas presented by Abel and James..... and like, yeah I know the Lee dream sequence was intended for fanservice and to make us cry.... but I dunno, kinda funny timing that she would have a dream about Lee that night after going through both of those events in the same day as well as doing prep to infiltrate the boat. 

While I love the dream sequence and this interpretation I’m talking about probably wasn’t all that intentional given that this would've been the perfect moment to explore or even hint at it but they don’t.... but it’s fine, it’s perfectly logical that she’s more worried about her friends who are still alive rather than if she did the right thing with Lee. 

I think it’s time I move onto the actual bitten Clementine stuff before this turns into a novel sooo.... Clementine gets bit after she and AJ get separated from Louis/Violet/Tenn. She’s bitten on her wounded leg, and after all the chaos of getting away from walkers and climbing up to safety... Clementine just lies there for a bit.

And you can feel it, y’know? She and AJ knew what happened, but Clementine still has to confirm it... and when she pulls away part of her boot to reveal the bite... she lets out a deep breath and says she got bit..... but they gotta keep moving forward. No time, gotta get up, gotta keep moving, gotta get AJ to safety. Nothing else matters. 

So they walk. They walk until it’s morning and Clementine starts to look awful... and I think most of us took this opportunity to tell AJ she loves him. 

Then all hell breaks loose, they’re surrounded by walkers and have to hide out in James’ walker barn, but Clementine’s too weak to fight. This is when the game starts to have us take control of AJ, switching us between the two as Clementine shoots walkers and AJ shuts the doors. 

Until Clementine runs out of ammo. 

The walkers are locked out, they’re catching their breath... and now they have a whole new problem to deal with. Clementine’s bitten, and AJ, similar to how little Clementine was, tells Clementine she needs to try to get up and leave with him. 

Clementine: Good job, AJ. You did it.

AJ: Now what?

Clementine: You need to find a way out of here.

AJ: We can climb up there. The monsters can't reach us up there. Let's go. Easy climb. C'mon. Please...try. You can't give up! You can't give up! I need you! I need you...

She can’t get up. 

Clementine: I'm so sorry, kiddo. This is just what happens sometimes.

AJ: But...but it wasn't supposed to happen to you!

Sigh.... now here it is. This is another big moment in Clementine’s character that changes everything. It’s that moment at McCarroll Ranch again- it all hits her at once. 

Clementine: I need to make sure you remember.

AJ: Remember what?

Clementine: The rules. What's number one?

AJ: Never...never go alone. So...so I can't leave. Not without you.

Clementine: AJ...

AJ: It's your rule!

Clementine: You won't be alone. Not for long. Get back to the school.

AJ: I don't know how.

Clementine: Sure you do. One of the first things I ever taught you. You need to make sure they can't smell you. So... grab that axe.

She’s dying, she’s going to die and leave AJ behind.

Clementine: Next rule: what do we do when the monsters come?

AJ: Clem...

Clementine: AJ...

AJ: Shoot them in the head.

Clementine: Got any more ammo?

AJ: There isn't any more.

Clementine: Okay, then. Fuck. And...the last rule?

AJ: I want to stay. With you. I know what will happen. And...and I don't care. I don't want to go. I just want to sit next to you and...and stay. Like that monster couple, from the train station. No one would hurt us. Just...sitting. Forever.

Clementine: I don't want you to leave, either.

AJ: Then don't make me!

Clementine: But it's not about what I want. It's about what you need. And you need to go.

AJ: Okay, Clem. Okay.

Clementine: Last rule.

AJ: No...

Clementine: What do we do if I get bit? ....Are you gonna make me say it? 

And this is Clementine truly realizes, understands for the first time why Lee made the choice he did... why he asked her to leave him.

Clementine: Just leave.

AJ: I can't let you turn into a monster.

Clementine: You have to.

AJ: But before, you said...

Clementine: I know. But now that we're here... My heart is saying something else.

She finally gets it. 

When Lee said she’s in his shoes now...? She IS in his shoes finally understanding a part of their situation years ago that she never could. For years, she questioned how he could ask her to leave him, WHY he did. She questioned if she did the right thing, regretted listening to him.... but now that they’re here and she’s presented with the same choice Lee was... she understands why her reasons for asking AJ to shoot her if she gets bitten were skewed, that what she thought was preventively protecting him from more hurt was only doing more damage. He’s already taken a life, and just like Lee said, he’s losing a part of himself every time he does it, and if she told him to shoot Lilly, too? and if he shot Tenn? 

What is killing Clementine with an axe going to do to AJ?

What is leaving Clementine to become a walker going to do to him?

What is the right thing to do?

Well, for Clementine, her answer is to ask him to leave. She knows she told him differently, but that was when this scenario was merely a “what if?” Now it’s happening and she sees the errors in her thinking, and no matter what happens now, she’s going to die. Maybe she’ll feel it, like Abel said. Maybe James is right and she’ll spend the rest of her undead life alone in this barn. Maybe nothing will happen. It doesn’t matter. 

But... we all know, AJ has another solution up his sleeve that Clementine never considered. 

He turns to leave her... and then turns back around and disobeys her wishes... and chops off her bitten leg. 

And she fucking survives. 

Clementine survives her walker bite. 

AJ did what little Clementine back in s1 couldn’t do... he didn’t listen to her, and this time, it worked in their favor. 

Clementine: When we were in the barn, you didn't listen to me. And if you had...I'd be dead. You'll have to be strong for the both of us.

AJ: You made it so I can. So...thank you. For everything.

Clementine: You're welcome. For everything.

Clementine still has a lot of things to work though, especially now that she only has one leg. She can’t move around the way she could before, she has to completely relearn how to walk on crutches, possibly a peg leg. She gets to sit down and breathe, rely on others and do some reflection on who she is and come to terms with all the pain she suffered, and grow from there. 

Now that she understands why Lee did what he did, she can take a step in the right direction of forgiving herself, to atone for all the mistakes she’s made and the people she’s hurt. 

She has a boyfriend/girlfriend/friends there at her side to listen and love her, she has AJ, she has her lovable pupper Rosie, and she has a home... for the first time since she was little, she has a home and she can find herself again. Keep movin’ forward. 

This is my favorite line of choices, my favorite way to interpret the connection between Lee and Clementine’s scenes, and how I view Clementine’s growth and understanding as a character in TFS. There are so many ways for it all to play out, no Clementine is the same between players, and I dunno I just... I find the whole thing so compelling. 

Clementine is such a fun character to discuss, to compare interpretations of, and I’m sorry for such a long post but this is another thing I’ve wanted to throw out there for a while. Now that I’m done, I’m gonna go make some tea and chill out. 

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Mia Deserved Better: An Analysis of RE8's Themes/Symbolism

Foreword: I would like to thank @lepusrufus for posting about both Mia and Miranda, and at one point directly saying that Mia deserved better, which is a large part of what caused me to start examining her role in the canon story. Now, I will say that this post, like some of my previous explorations of Village (such as my attempt to determine Donna's age), will not be the best organized. My ADHD makes such things rather difficult for me. However, I have tried more than usual, and have broken up this "essay" into several distinct sections. Still, I am worried that my thoughts will not be as concise or coherent as they were inside my head.

Under read-more for length and spoilers for RE8: Village.

Introduction:

Village is, inarguably, about parenthood. Is it a horror game? Yes. Is it also science fiction? Also yes. But is it still, at its core, a story, and therefore contains imagery, symbolism, and themes? Yes. Now, you may be wondering what this has to do with Mia deserving better. My proposal is as follows: While Village is overall about parenthood, it is more about motherhood than fatherhood. Furthermore, Mia's background + actions from the previous game tie her story directly with Mother Miranda's, making their potential interactions massively important to the story... and could have served the theme beautifully. The missed potential in her involvement in the story is honestly a little bit absurd.

Now, let's examine each of the Four Lords + their sections, as the beginning of analyzing the game's theme.

Lady Dimitrescu + Castle:

Ah, perhaps the clearest (albeit unimportant) bits of theme within the whole game. We are immediately presented with another parent, with three daughters she loves very, very much. Initially they work as a team to capture Ethan, easily overpowering him. When they do split up, each still has dialogue regarding their family members. Each of the daughters expresses a desire to be like their mother/make their mother proud. Lady Dimitrescu herself gets very upset every time one of her daughters perishes, and delivers some important dialogue about this in her final confrontation with Ethan.

To paraphrase, Lady D says that Ethan has done something unforgiveable, caused damage that can never heal, and deserves to die before his daughter. That last part is interesting, in the sense that Lady D seems to believe that outlasting your own child is a fate so terrible that she would not wish it upon anyone, including the person who killed her daughters.

Throughout her dialogue and actions, Lady D serves as an important figure of a living mother. What do I mean by that? Well, the only other mothers we see in game are Mia and Miranda. The former doesn't show up until almost the end of the game (seeing as the "Mia" at the start is not actually the real Mia), while the latter does not have a living child, and her behavior has (presumably) changed quite a bit since that loss. As Ethan goes through Castle Dimitrescu, he watches (he causes) Lady D to go through what Miranda did all those decades ago. When we see her loss, when we experience her loss, it is something we connect with, even comparing it (as Lady D does) to Ethan's loss of Rose.

For the more visual side of symbolism, we can turn to Lady Dimitrescu herself. She is very tall, is visibly older than the majority of the Village cast, and has a fairly classic (old-school) motherly look. Everything about her reinforces her position as an example of a mother, especially when she's with her daughters and becomes such a strong figure of protection. Her height allows her to seem the caretaker for her children, even though they are scary/intimidating in their own right.

Donna Beneviento + Waterfall House:

Yes, the baby/fetus/monstrosity is part of this. No, it is not the only bit of thematic work in this section of the game.

To begin, you can find out that Donna is officially the adopted daughter of Mother Miranda. Her birth parents are dead, implied to be from especially tragic causes (more than is the norm when it comes to "orphan making"), and she has suffered greatly from it. We see that she has been seemingly neglected by Miranda, and is incredibly isolated. The tragedy of her loss, along with the consequences presented by it, are something to keep in mind further down the road, when we inevitably deal with Ethan's own death.

One of the consequences of the environment Donna was raised in is, arguably, her reliance on Angie. While interpretations of their exact relationship (aka how much control Donna actually has at any given point) vary, the two very clearly have something akin to a mother/daughter vibe. Alternatively an older sister/younger sister sort of thing. This shows in the way that Donna holds/carries Angie, as well as the contrast in their demeanors. Moreso, the fact that Donna gave a part of herself to create Angie is almost enough to make the symbolism nonnegotiable.

We also see that Donna has a strong understanding of family/family dynamics, through the way that she uses her powers to manipulate Ethan. She dissects his connections to Mia and Rose, taunts him with the lengths he's willing to go to save his child, then shows him a grotesque version of parenthood: The aforementioned fetus monster. Does the monster represent Ethan's fears, or Donna's?

What if the monster is how Donna sees herself, in some way, perhaps thinking that it's her fault her parents died? Bit of a stretch, but it's not a keystone of my theory, so I'm just throwing it out there. We could, however, go a step further and ask ourselves if Donna has noticed the way Miranda neglects her, and the fetus monster is how Donna thinks Miranda sees her. A baby, true, but grotesque, so terribly imperfect compared to her "real daughter" (Eva, obvs).

Regardless, the monster presents an ugly side of parenthood. It shows us the blood, the hunger (with the way it repeatedly attempts to swallow Ethan whole), the wailing. If Lady D shows us the love of parenthood, the bond, Donna in turn shows us the hate, the misery. Everything that one must endure to reap the rewards of family.

Lastly, we get one last bit of symbolism with Donna's death: We play a game with Angie. A childhood classic, hide and seek. Ethan chases her down repeatedly, stabbing away, seemingly only hurting the doll. But what happens when he kills Angie? It turns out that he killed Donna. You kill the child, you kill the parent. A reinforcement of the connection that comes with parenthood, along with another notch in Ethan's family-murdering belt (not saying that he's the "true antagonist" or anything, just keeping track for one of my later points).

Moreau + The Reservoir

Let's get the worst possibility out of the way: Moreau, weakest and sickest of the four lords, lives in a reservoir, where he is relatively safe. To defeat him, you have to drain the water, forcing him onto dry(ish) land. Paired with the main ideas of his section (which I will detail after this nightmare), one could theorize that he's meant to represent birth itself. Again, he's safe in his ("womb") water, and becomes vulnerable when he leaves (like a fragile newborn). Kinda gross, in my opinion, and also not a strong enough connection for me to care much about. It was merely an interesting (albeit horrifying) enough thought that I felt it warranted sharing.

Moving on to the big stuff with Moreau: He's a baby. Evidence: Whiny, has difficulty moving around, struggles to adapt to his growth, throws up a bunch, loves his mother very much, cries for his mother when he's in trouble, etc. Although Mother Miranda does not care for him, he clearly cares for her, and plays yet another role of an abandoned child (like Donna). Without Miranda there to protect him, he perishes terribly, crying out for someone who does not care to answer.

Hearing him cry out for Miranda, over and over, only for her to continue ignoring him is a key piece in the build-up to our confrontation between Ethan and Miranda. The game, in many ways, centers around the comparison between the two. In my humble opinion, Mia should have been involved in this comparison, as opposed to supplying the solution to the result of said comparison. Yes, I know that was a lot of words that don't mean much yet, but trust me, I'm getting there.

Heisenberg + The Factory

Ironically, of the four lords, Heisenberg is the most similar to Mother Miranda. In his massive factory, he is alone except for his numerous experiments, the results of decades of playing God. In comparison to Ethan + Mia, Heisenberg represents artificial parentage, or more accurately, the artificial creation of "life". While the others Lords also performed experiments, they used living subjects. Heisenberg instead chose to use corpses, which he then "brought back to life" with cybernetics + his powers, a somewhat futuristic version of Dr. Frankenstein.

Together, Miranda and him show a rotten side of parenthood (whereas Donna + Moreau showed us the uglier side of the children themselves). To put it simply, they are bad parents. They throw their "children"/experiments into the fray, uncaring, using them as pawns for their own greater gain. The most important part of this is that Heisenberg offers to "help" Ethan: By using Rose as a weapon. In his act of refusal, Ethan demonstrates one of several important distinctions between himself and Mother Miranda. Where she is willing to use her "children" (read: lives that she is responsible for) as tools, he is not.

Miscellaneous Symbolism/Imagery:

The old hag is one of my favorite parts of Village. She's seemingly nuts, has a crazy old lady laugh, wears bones that make soothing bone noises when she moves, and she draws lots of symbols in the dirt. If you look closely (I can provide screenshots if anyone desires, but it will take a bit of work to get them onto my computer), she's drawing one of the most iconic images in the titular village: The winged unborn. This symbol acts as the key you build up after every fight with a Lord, understandably called the Unborn Key (which turns into the Winged Unborn Key). Whether this counts as foreshadowing towards the hag's identity reveal is technically irrelevant, but I like to think it does.

In essence, you build up the key, this depiction of an infant, to progress in the game. The more wings it gains, the closer you are to your goal of rescuing your child.

The cadou itself is very clearly fetus-shaped. Furthermore, the only place within the human body that we know it ever gets implanted is in the "tummy" (thanks Moreau), aka roughly where someone's womb is/would be. Every infected person we see presumably had the Cadou implanted there (though I think it would be interesting if implanting it in different spots caused different mutations. of course, that is a discussion for another day). To become immortal, you have to "bear" a "child". Does it get more direct than that?

Mother Miranda gained her immortality in part for her grief at the loss of her child. She embodied the despair that Lady D spoke of, becoming an eternal source of anguish. Just as the loss of a child is a wound that lasts forever, so too would Miranda last forever (well, until Ethan comes along).

Mia is a loving mother, who puts up with the BSAA making her move across the world, deals with the complications of having a mold husband and mold baby, and has proved herself (see her section in RE7) to be an immense badass. Previously I had forgotten that, and even embarrassed myself in the comments of another person's post by implying she wasn't a tough, ass-kicking machine. Y'all remember feral Mia? People talk about "poor Ethan's arms", but sometimes we forget that Mia was one of the people who did a number on them. Furthermore, she's one of the only living people (from outside the village) to have any connections (pun intended) to Mother Miranda. They worked together, although possibly not directly, on Evelyn. If anyone in Village has a chance of really understanding Miranda's plight, or knowing the truth behind it, it would be Mia. Yet we don't see them interact a single time. Which leads me to the next section...

Conclusion On Theme + Missed Potential:

Okay, okay, so it's pretty obvious at this point that, as previously stated, the game's theme is parenthood. Every section has its symbolism, the story is very obviously about a man trying to rescue his daughter, etc, etc, but what's the point? Is there a lesson, or a more focused interpretation of the central theme? Let's take one last step back, and focus on something I've mentioned a few times now: The comparison between Ethan and Mother Miranda.

Recurring dialogue from Ethan, Alcina, and Mother Miranda all point towards the developers acknowledging that the characters are similar, but there's nowhere near as much conversation about it as I would like. Several times we have the antagonists ask Ethan how he's so willing to kill someone else's child, or prevent them from (essentially) doing what he's doing (aka saving his daughter). While Ethan responds with a mix of "well you started it" and "aghhh fuck-a-you, bitch", there's a much more solid, unspoken difference: Mother Miranda sends her underlings to kill, so that she may revive her daughter. Ethan kills (read: does the work himself) to get his daughter. The difference is much bigger, and more important, at the end of the game, when we realize just how far it goes. Ethan dies to save his daughter. Time and time again Mother Miranda has killed others for her work, but in the end she is stopped when someone willingly dies to stop her.

Where does Mia come in? Mia, the badass mother, the one who once worked alongside Mother Miranda, should have been the nail in the coffin. She is the one who survives, who lives on to raise Rose, she is the silent solution to Ethan's sacrifice. Miranda, you fool, what could you have accomplished if you had held onto your makeshift family? Through Mia (and Chris, to a lesser degree), his "loss" becomes a victory. There's a certain poetic justice that comes with Rose's full family being instrumental in saving her, when Miranda so readily spurned her own family.

Mia could have had an actual conversation with Miranda, their history giving the latter a reason to actually listen. I'm not saying that Miranda would have changed her mind/plans, but the conversation would have been a well-needed contrast to Ethan's "arggg what the fuck is happening, I only have two reactions to things. agg fuck you". Additionally, I feel that Mia (who was captured and had to endure who-knows-what) deserves the opportunity to be the one who points out Miranda's mistakes, who delivers the final "fuck you" to her. More than that, she's the one at the end who can say that hey, maybe she can understand some of what Miranda did. Was there anything her and Ethan wouldn't have done to save Rose? As much as Ethan is a foil to Miranda, Mia could (and should) have played a similar role.

When so much of the story and symbolism revolves around Miranda's experience as a mother, it only would have been fair to shine a light on her equivalent. Her better.

There's more I wanted to say/feel like I didn't properly get across, and I might add more to this at some point, but it's 5:40 AM right now, and I'm starting to feel like my brain is slowing down, so... Feel free to reblog/comment and add your own thoughts!

[youamongthemelissas]

hi mwah <3

may i have a scenario with zoro being a brat who doesn't want to go down on his girl, but she just puts in his place by sitting on his face? 👀

ara ara, it seems that the fifteen hours I've been sleeping have made me reap the rewards uwu

well, I really hope you like the result and that those 3,3k words make up for the delay in my writer's block. i've only reviewed it a few times because i'm really really sleepy right now, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes! :(

warning: oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, face sitting, etc. only for +18. smut everywhere

Zoro and I had known each other for almost two years, but he changed his position from hookup to boyfriend two months ago. Our chaotic relationship started at a horrible party. Everything that night was horrible, except when the handsome guy approached me offering his help when some ramshackle human being spilled water on my shirt. To complete my disaster, the outfit I wore was white and cotton, so it marked the contours of my breasts just right. Damn day I decided to leave my house without wearing a bra. Too embarrassed, I just crawled into the bathroom – which didn't even have a lock – and waited for the crowd to dwindle or for my shirt to dry so I could get out of that unhealthy place. But fate didn't have the best plans for me, as I saw the bathroom door open and a man enter that cubicle.

"This is the ladies' wc, you know?" I informed the guy angrily.

“I know,” he replied simply. "I saw the whole scene, so I decided to come make sure you're okay."

I arched my brow and stared at him with half-closed eyes. Was he feeling okay? I looked for signs of drunkenness in him, but his voice was steady and he looked too sober.

“Very nice of you, but you can't just lock yourself together with a strange woman in a cubicle. You know, I can interpret this as sexual harassment!” I snapped.

“Oh, fine. I was going to lend you my shirt so you could wear it and wouldn’t have to wait for yours to dry, but I see you don't need my help. Bye and sorry for the inconvenience,” and so he left, not giving me a chance to respond.

I cursed the Universe, but then I stopped myself because a tarot reader had informed me that a situation like this could happen throughout the week and I didn't listen. In the end, it was my fault for being a stubborn and skeptical one.

I really couldn't tell how long I was locked in that fetid cubicle, but when my t-shirt dried enough not to leave me practically naked from the waist up, I walked out and saw the same guy as before, he was talking to a red haired girl, actually it looked more like an argument was going on between them by his annoyed expression and her restless gestures. Would she be his girlfriend? Was the discussion focused on me and the bathroom incident? Well, I wouldn't stay there to find out and risk getting hit by the girl for something that wasn't my fault. He was the one who entered the ladies' room with an unknown woman!

And my disastrous night ended when I lay in my bed and turned off the light to finally sleep and erase all memories of the party from my head. But that boy's face has not left my mind.

The days followed normally, and when I was already forgetting the cool guy, I saw him for the second time in a bakery. He wore the same shirt that day of the party and sweatpants. His sleepy face gave away that he had just woken up and had just left the house to go buy bread for breakfast. He saw me but pretended not to. I got the feeling I should have apologized for the misunderstanding, but he was already making the request. Luckily, we were assisted together as soon a second attendant appeared who assisted me as well.

As soon as we paid the bill, we silently left the place and I got a chance to talk to him as we were heading in the same direction.

“Hey,” I called him, being ignored. "Boy, wait a minute"

“What is it, girl?”, he snapped at me sharply.

“I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding… Seriously, I was just freaked out by a guy walking me into the bathroom…”, I was sincere.

"It's all right. Go on with your life in peace.”

“And you had a girlfriend, right? Like, you were still wrong in the end…” I couldn't hold my mouth before needling him.

This time he stopped abruptly and turned to me, making me smack my face into his chest.

"Girlfriend? First you accuse me of sexual harassment and now besides being a harasser you think I'm a traitor?”

“I didn't accuse you of anything! Except the girlfriend part. You and that red haired girl seemed to be fighting really bad, like boyfriends do,” I clarified.

“Redhead girl?” he seemed to search his memory for what I was referring to. “Nami? God forbid me dating that devil woman! She's not my girlfriend, and we were fighting because…”, he stopped mid-explanation. “This is none of your business, girl. But she's not my girlfriend,” he ended the pseudo-argument.

I nodded and went on my way.

“How long will you follow me? Now I can interpret that you're a deranged stalker”, he told me right after we turned down the same street, after walking close for a few meters.

“I'm not following you, my house is on this way”, I replied.

And that's how I found out that we lived in the same condominium.

Although I clearly remember the first two times we met, I can't say when exactly we started to change our cat-and-mouse relationship and elevate it to a more intimate one. Maybe it was when he fucked me for the first time in the laundry room in the building. I was taking my clothes out of the machine while he put his clothes in another one, and then we looked at each other and as if we had the same idea, he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up to put me sitting on top of the machine he had just finished stuffing with his own clothes, putting it to work and taking me in a kiss while taking off my panties. When he entered me, I moaned loudly, but the sound was drowned out by the shrill noise of that old machine. Zoro confessed to me later that he chose precisely that one so my moans could not be heard. I think it was the most insane thing I did, because at any moment someone could come and catch us, but luckily for us that only happened after Zoro had cum on my thighs and taken me off that old thing. It was weird walking with my legs sticking together because of his cum, but I didn't have time to clean up, just lift my panties and straighten my skirt before passing the newcomer, who didn't seem to have noticed our presence.

After our first sex, we didn't get apart anymore. We couldn't be alone as we caught fire and had sex wherever we were.

As time went by, we calmed down and our meetings became more spaced, but our chemistry didn't extinguish even a little bit during these almost two years, on the contrary, it only earned us the beginning of dating. And we became more than just hookups, we became friends too, those who know about each other's lives and I got to know Nami, the red-haired friend he was fighting that night at the party. I came to discover that they could never be boyfriends, because she loved money and women.

Everything with Zoro was almost perfect. He was a good boyfriend, and even though we're two hotheads, we never fought. There are always dialogues in our relationship and this helps a lot to avoid unnecessary fights. Besides, sex is wonderful, everything just right, except for one small thing that bothers me. We combine a lot in bed, I always try to please him and give him pleasure at all times. I've lost count of how many blowjobs I gave him and how many times I let him cum in my mouth, but the problem is that he never even gave me oral sex. And that makes me a little frustrated and scared. Was the problem with me? I took good care of myself, but he always shifted position when I tried to get him down on me.

One day, while I watched him playing his favorite game, I stroked his hair.

“Babe?”, I called him.

“Hm?” he mutters, not moving an inch.

“Do I disgust you?” I asked bluntly.

"What? Where did you get this ideia?”, he turns abruptly to face me, doing something wrong in the game because soon there are some curses directed at him in the chat.

“It's just a question.” I shrugged.

“It can't be just a question. For you to ask me that, there's definitely a reason behind it,” he replied, no longer looking at the TV screen, and not realizing that he was being offended by the other players. Damn virgins.

“Nevermind…”, I hesitated, unable to let myself be affected by the comments, which weren't even for me. "Your game friends are very angry with you."

"Fuck them, the issue here is you.", he held my face with both hands, making me look at him. “Tell me what made you think about it,” he looks deep into my eyes, almost reading my soul and I immediately regret opening my mouth. But it was too late, lying was out of the question, because he knows very well when I lie, so I had no choice but to tell the truth.

“You never gave me an oral. So I deduced that the problem is with me”, I said at last and he let me go.

It was his turn to shift the focus to another corner.

“It's nothing to you, it's me who is the problem. I've never done that to any women, and in the movies I see them “squirt”, what if that happens?” He looked a little frustrated and embarrassed.

I got up from my seat and stopped standing in front of him, making him glare at me.

“You have to stop thinking real life is a big porn movie, Roronoa,” I said, putting my index finger on his forehead. “I really admire you knowing how to fuck without looking like a caveman”, I said that last sentence more to myself.

“Hey!” he heard and seemed offended. "It hurts, okay?"

“Sorry, but that is nothing but the truth”, I rolled my eyes.

Even though he didn't suck me when we had sex later, the seed of doubt was already planted in his head.

I know this, because days later he was more committed to making me cum. Before he seemed to care only about his pleasure, but after our conversation, he even put his fingers to work on my clit – which were presented by me –, as he moved in and out of me, until I came on his fingers. It felt good, but I wanted to feel his tongue down there, and wanted to see his head between my legs. I wanted so badly to squirm in pleasure beneath him as he sucked everything I had to offer him.

When the dream day finally arrived, all my thoughts turned opaque as I felt him hug me from behind and lean his body against mine as his lips found the skin of my neck.

“Do you know how hot you look wearing my shirt?” he asked huskily, pressing me closer to his body, making my ass fit into his crotch. And I already felt it was hard. "Even more so I know you're not wearing anything under it."

I couldn't hold back the moan as I felt his fingers travel up my waist until they reached my breasts under the fabric. He squeezed it first and then circled the nipple with his finger, making it hard. He knew how sensitive I was in that area. And to my delight, he lowered his other hand to between my legs, and slid it to find my sex, which was already starting to get wet.

When I was in his apartment, I liked to have just one piece of clothing. Walking around his house half-naked was one of the most satisfying things for me, because I knew that anytime we were going to get laid and being too undressed would get in the way of the process. So I opted to wear just a pair of panties or a T-shirt with nothing underneath, as was the case now.

He removed his hand from my body and pulled me away, but only to pick me up and take me to his bed, where he laid me down and leaned over me and started kissing me.

His kiss tasted like the whiskey he drank a few minutes ago. I ran my hands over his body and scratched him lightly on his back, inside his shirt. He ended the kiss and rolled off of me, but only to undress. I watched the scene intently, looking at each piece of skin that was revealed to me little by little. When he took off his underwear and his cock popped out, I felt my mouth water. He was there in front of me, completely naked.

I got rid of his t-shirt I was wearing and crawled until I was close to his body, took his hard member in my hands and started masturbating before putting it in my mouth. Unconsciously, I reared my hips up, and ran my tongue over the glans, tasting the pre-cum. Without waiting, I felt him lean over to smack my ass, and it made his cock almost hit my throat, making me gasp. I pulled it out of my mouth, gasping for air, but went back to sucking on it. When I relaxed, I put him in one piece and this time I got used to that intruder so deep, and I heard him grunt. He loved when I swallowed him like that, but before I could make him cum, he gently withdrew from my mouth and lay down on the bed, turning me to stand beside him.

He kissed me again and wrapped his hands around my waist and slid them to my ass, where he slapped my ass, making me moan into his mouth.

We made out until he was on top of me, making me feel his hard cock on my thigh as he kissed my neck and played with my nipples.

I was already throbbing with lust, and it got worse when he slid his fingers to my clit and touched his fingertip to that sensitive spot, making me arch into him. But he did nothing but tease me, and I wanted him to use his tongue this time to bring me to orgasm. For that reason, I forced his head down and he got the message, surprisingly trailing kisses down my body, but before he got there he stopped and returned the kisses to where they were before, leaving me frustrated.

I sighed in annoyance, and shifted our positions, getting on top of him. I positioned myself right on top of his cock, and I fit my pussy there, not to slide him inside, but to rub myself there. He liked my boldness a lot, but I abruptly left the place until I was positioned right in his mouth. I felt him startle under me, but it was too late because I was already sitting pretty well in his face, with my cunt snug in the place where I always wished it was. He showed no resistance, just ran the tip of his tongue over my clit and I closed my eyes, sighing.

At first, he was stuck and a little lost, but little by little he got used to it and now his whole tongue passed through my intimacy, sometimes sucking painfully. It was good for me and it was good for him too, because I felt him grip my thighs tightly, holding me in place as he penetrated me with his tongue. I saw stars. When he smeared the entire place and when my body showed signs of the first orgasm, nimbly and using a little force he took me off him and put me back on the bed, with my back to the mattress. I thought he had given up, but he again slid down my body and positioned himself between my legs, giving me that wonderful sight. Again he pressed his tongue against my clit.

Seeing him there, with his head buried in the place I'd always dreamed of, made a fire burn in my stomach, and my brain worked tirelessly on the new sensations his mouth was gaving me me.

And he looked very committed and thirsty. He was like someone who had gone days without even a drop of liquid and who had just found an inexhaustible source of pure water. And I was that source. And just the thought of having him thirsty for me was enough to give my boner more ammo and make my hips start working nimbly, looking for more contact. Zoro shaved every day, but there were already two that he didn't shave, so the growing hairs scraped the inside of my thighs when I moved my hips, leaving goose bumps.

His tongue explored every corner of my intimacy and his arms closed tightly around my legs as he brought one hand to one of my breasts and rested it there, squeezing every now and then as my body showed signs of orgasm.

He didn't let go of me when I came for the first time or when I screamed for the second. Instead, he circled my waist with his arms and held me immobile in place as he sipped every drop that dared escape from me. He showed no signs of satiating even when I scratched his shoulders or slapped him in the arms to get him to let go. In fact, it felt like it was just an extra boost for him when I was on the verge of madness, writhing in his mouth and thrashing around aimlessly for support and control of the spasms in my body.

He was both a sadist and a masochist at the same time, which is why I was so attracted to him.

When he released me, I was almost voiceless and completely shaky. I wouldn't be able to form an intelligible word, and his playful smile, which I saw blurred due to the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes, gave away his satisfaction at seeing me in that state.

When I finally composed myself and my heart stopped beating in my chest, pulse, and throat, I took a deep breath and stared at him. He was lying beside me, looking at me and running his hand down my face, lovingly.

“You look beautiful when you're coming”, was the first thing he said.

“You look handsome between my legs”, I returned the answer in the same tone.

He smiled and massaged his jaw, as if in pain.

“Too bad it takes so long to cum, my chin hurts”, he complained and I rolled my eyes.

“You didn't leave me after my first orgasm,” I accused. “For those who were afraid of giving me oral sex, you seemed to enjoy it a lot”, I continued, with a pout.

“I had no idea you were that tasty,” he said, smiling slightly. “Now you better get ready, because your taste has gone straight to the top of my favorite flavors”, he assured me, as he pulled me by the waist to glue my body to his.

I kissed his lips softly, and touched our foreheads, and he kissed me again, obscenely. It didn't take me long to be on my knees for him, determined to reward him for the multiple organs he gave me.

Seeing him from above, with his eyes closed and his expression filled with pure delight, made me want to feel his cock in the back of my throat to the point of gasping for air. But he refused to cum inside my mouth. He lifted me up and positioned me on all fours on the bed and placed the condom on his cock.

When he sank into me, I moaned loudly, too happy that my sex life with my boyfriend was perfect.

[moonbeamsung]

Serendipitous Synergy

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

“What? Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee.”

member: haechan

au: dance partner and rival!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: angst, suggestive, fluff

warnings: talk of insecurities and thoughts of self-doubt, a house party, stubborn reader, smug haechan, mentions of ‘sexual tension’ in the context of a dance, kissing, slight innuendos

author’s note: As a dancer myself, this idea came to me after we learned the choreography for Thriller in class one day! And yes I know Halloween was weeks ago but shhh. It’s my first time writing an enemies to lovers au, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback about things I can improve on in the future. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

network tags: @neo-constellations

“...You’ll be partnered with Haechan.”

The words of your instructor seem to swallow up the dance studio you’re standing in, echoing off of the walls with a piercing sound that makes your ears ache, your gut twist, and your blood boil.

This could not be happening.

Said boy seems just as averse to the idea as you are, the corners of his mouth downturned in displeasure.

Your teacher, however, continues to rattle off the rest of the pairs, some of them a little surprising but none nearly as unexpected as the two of you being put together.

Eyes narrowed and gazes sharp as daggers, both you and Haechan turn to stare each other down.

The standoff makes everyone else in the studio uneasy, and though the other dancers aren’t unaccustomed to your endless rivalry, they fear the potential hostility of your reactions. But to their astonishment, it never escalates beyond these stinging glares directed at one another. You’re surprisingly professional about it on the outside, not letting a single swear word slip out from between your lips, while he bites back a snarky insult.

On the inside, though, you’re a mess.

Haechan has been somewhat of an enemy of yours for as long as you can remember, though by no fault of his own. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, ever since you were both young students struggling to find your footing in the artistic world, he’s always been better than you. At everything.

If you managed to nail a double pirouette, he’d step right up and do a third like it was nothing. You finally got your split? He’s already had it for a month, at least. It just wasn’t fair. You both had started dancing at the same age, at the same time, with the same amount of experience: zero.

In all honesty, Haechan had done nothing wrong. The combination of poor timing and better luck had worked against him all those years ago to brew these bitter feelings inside of your heart, rising to the surface whenever you would set foot inside the familiar studio.

These constant sentiments of inferiority took their toll on you, making you fear being compared to him above anything else. It was childish, but you couldn’t stand to be reminded of feeling completely and utterly incompetent next to him. Whenever you performed, you were grateful for the large amount of other dancers occupying the stage, leaving little opportunity for the two of you to be noticed in conjunction with one another.

Now that it’s going to be just the two of you under the bright beams of light cascading down from the rafters, dancing in close proximity, this worry is at the forefront of your mind.

You would do anything to be able to go back to your first year at the studio, when you were young enough to recognize that his skills seemed to outweigh yours, but as a carefree child you remained largely unbothered by this fact. As you got older, it was like a switch inside of you flipped and made you extra aware of each and every thing that you did. Perhaps it was the heightened self-consciousness that puberty brought combined with the already stressful lifestyle of a dancer, but something changed one day, and it was all you could think about when you saw him.

Your internal doubts always translated into being eerily quiet during practice, asking a question to clarify the movements only when it was absolutely necessary. Even your teacher noticed a shift in how you danced. Your gestures and steps lacked their usual precision, and all the confidence you had built up for so long vanished into thin air.

Not sure how to interpret your sudden silence, Haechan took it upon himself to get a word out of you in whatever way that he could, with comments and jokes and even the occasional compliment on your technique. It hardly helped, though. In fact, your constant failure to respond to his attempts created a sort of resentment in him as well, one not generated by envy or insecurity, but simply by confusion and frustration.

During practice one afternoon, you had become so fed up with him trying to talk to you that you lashed out, pushing him away with surprising strength. “Just leave me alone!” You had shouted at Haechan, but you instantly regretted it when you saw the way his eyes welled up with shiny tears, full of hurt after his genuinely good intentions had been totally rejected by their unwilling recipient. Your guilt, however, failed to overpower your stubbornness.

This sent Haechan into his own spiral of the silent treatment before he started to channel his feelings into a similar bitterness. From that day forth, you each became the other’s arch-enemy, challenging one another in any way that you possibly could inside the studio and on the stage. Your instructor, choreographers, and fellow students quickly became tired of the implicit competition that always existed between you, but what on earth could they do to stop it?

At the present moment, they’re contemplating this exact idea, along with just why your teacher thought pairing you with each other would be a good idea. She had done it with the intention of putting a long overdue partnership into action and hopefully eliminating your immature rivalry. Selfishly, she’s also very eager to see how your mutual contempt translates into movement, inwardly predicting that the tension levels will be off the charts.

Not long after, you’re dismissed from practice for the day, but not without a warning look from Haechan. Against your better judgment, you join him by the doorway once everyone else has filed out of the studio.

He clearly called you over for a reason, but you cut him off without even waiting for him to speak.

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

Oh, so this is how you’re acting? Two can play at that game.

“What?” He snickers, “Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee,” you scoff, already tired of his taunting attitude.

“Anyway,” his voice is stern before doing a complete 180, now a bit more gentle, “If we’re going to be dancing together for the next few weeks, we might as well be on speaking terms, don’t you think?” The expression Haechan wears on his face is the softest you’ve seen it in a long time, which is definitely saying something.

“I suppose.” Answer short and tone abrasive, you huff a lousy excuse for a goodbye before marching out and into the hallway, but he’s faster than you. You spin around to shrug off his hand from your shoulder, and it gives him the chance to tell you one last thing.

“Look, if you’re going to be like that, it’s not going to make working together any easier. We’re not little kids anymore. You can go back to hating me once this is all over, but can we at least try to put our differences aside and just cooperate for once?”

You nearly split your lip as you bite down on it, holding back a burst of aggravation at the situation you’ve been put in. “Fine.”

You have no idea how you’re going to get through all the practices and all the shows while simultaneously dealing with the boy, but one thing’s for sure: you’re going to prove that you are just as skilled, and just as talented a dancer as he is.

The next time you see him is two days later, at your first rehearsal for this dance. Your studio has always had a Halloween-themed showcase, but it wasn’t until this year that you were old enough to finally be cast in a more exclusive number. The fact that you’re no longer a part of the large group routine, always performed to the same upbeat tune and with the same easy steps, is one of the few silver linings that your duet with Haechan presents.

Faces lined with fatigue and eyes still heavy with sleep, you both arrive at the studio in the morning, duffel bags in hand, the comfy slides on your feet dragging across the hallway carpet with every step. Loud music blares from inside the room, brightly lit despite the early hour. Beside you, Haechan instantly recognizes the tune to be Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and perks up a little at the sound. Too tired to poke fun at his near obsession with the singer, you let his little celebration of the choreographer’s song choice slide.

It’s not your usual instructor that’s going to be teaching you the movements to go along with the piece, which means you have the added challenge of adapting to a different set of preferences, expectations, and choreographing style.

It’s certainly a dance that’s unlike any you’ve ever learned before.

The rehearsal starts off well, and both of you quickly catch on to the basic steps that are somewhat like those of a waltz, except they have a more sinister feel to them in order to match the spooky time of year. Facing each other but standing on opposite sides of the room, you step forward, to the side, to the back and then to the side again. On each accented beat you throw your heads back sharply, mimicking the way the neck of an inhuman creature might snap under any sort of force.

In the next section of choreography, your gazes are supposed to meet once you tilt your heads downward, slowly this time, but it’s difficult to maintain eye contact with Haechan for more than a few seconds. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t even hesitate to stalk towards you in this part of the dance, which calls for you to circle each other like a hungry predator and its timid prey. Maybe it’s the animalistic glint in his irises that throws off your balance and makes you stumble when you see it. Or maybe it’s the fact that your rivalry with him has been entirely disregarded at the moment, brain focused solely on absorbing all of the new information and ingraining the movements into your muscle memory, nothing else.

What frightens you even more than the things that go bump in the night is that all those years you spent... well, not hating, but strongly disliking him could go to waste. It usually takes a lot of time for you to get over things like this, and in a way, you feel like you would be disappointing yourself if you let all of the agonizing feelings of self-doubt go, just like that.

These thoughts swirl around in your mind as you listen to the choreographer’s next words.

“Okay, put your hand here.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, now you’re going to drag it across him, from there to there,” she directs you with a finger, “And then he’s going to pick you up in a scissor lift.”

You’ve never done one of those before, but with some helpful guidance, you begin to have a small bit of faith in yourself that you’re capable of pulling it off. The music starts and you go from the top all the way to the part you were just taught, taking a deep breath in preparation for what’s about to happen.

Just like you had been instructed moments ago, you step very close to Haechan, right behind him, actually, and place one hand on his shoulder as you trail the other across the front of his chest, fingernails scratching the skin underneath through the flimsy t-shirt he’s wearing. You step around to stand in front of him and continue the motion, peering at him with a hesitance that melts away and into an assertive gaze once you see the apprehension in his own eyes. His skin crawls a little, not out of fear but an odd satisfaction and excitement at the feeling of you so near and the sight of your eyes bright with so much determination and dominance, lingering touch tracing the base of his neck and stimulating his nerves from head to toe.

You yelp slightly at what he does next even though you knew it was coming, your self-assured exterior evaporating only moments after it appeared. Haechan turns around and sweeps you off of your feet to hold you in his arms. In the blink of an eye, he helps you hook one of your knees behind his head as he tosses you into the air with seemingly no effort whatsoever, flipping you around to face the other way and catching you immediately after. The complicated lift makes your heart leap to the front of your throat with exhilaration, and you mentally applaud yourself for succeeding on the first try.

Haechan finds it odd that you were so willing to do this lift in the first place, since trust is a key component of partner work in dance. He can’t explain it, and neither can you, quite honestly. A small part of him, however, is glad you didn’t object to the prospect of him being directly responsible for your safety for even the most instantaneous of moments.

“Alright, so for this next part, I’m sure you’re aware of that fact that Michael Jackson was famous for his pelvic—”

Okay, that’s enough, you’ve heard enough. Tuning out the conversation and whirling around to face away from the floor-to-ceiling mirror, you twiddle your thumbs while the choreographer teaches Haechan one of the iconic dance steps in Thriller, and your evident shyness at her unabashed explanation makes him smirk. Thankfully, she has a different set of movements prepared for you.

Since when are you ever shy around him, though?

You still can’t bring yourself to watch your reflections in the glass when you practice the new part together, since he gets so into the provocative motions. His eyes seem to taunt you with the smugness they hold, and you hate the way he’s testing you. You can’t stand it, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand those eyes for all the times they send a shiver down your spine, for all the times they come alive with a beast-like glow. Those eyes can go from soft and sympathetic at times, although the moments are rare, to something else entirely. His mocking stares make your stomach turn, reminding you of why you’ve felt this way about him for so long.

But you’re scared that a new and different feeling is developing inside of you, one that’s telling you he’s not so bad, that you should give him a chance. Haechan has noticed a similar one within himself, and he begins to regret the way he immaturely perpetuated your own resentment for so long.

Even if you do end up making amends eventually, he’s not sure he’ll be willing to abandon all of the playful glances and teasing remarks with flirtatious undertones he sends your way. Do you even notice these things? If your periodic blushing is any indication, then the answer is most definitely yes.

You spend another couple of hours under the choreographer’s direction, stopping only when you had been taught each and every step from the piece’s beginning until the end. Though a Halloween-inspired performance, there’s a surprisingly large amount of eerily romantic undertones within it. You don’t have enough fingers to count the number of times you ultimately caress some part of the other’s body in a forbidding manner, with locked eyes and threatening, fiery glares.

The two of you also have a second but more simple lift, in which you jump and Haechan catches you by the legs to pull your torso against his, while you cling to him tightly like a koala. He supports your weight fully, and never once does the possibility of falling cross your mind. It’s strange how your body is so trusting of him, much more so than your mind.

Towards the end of the song, the lyrics mention something about cuddling close together, the timing of your movements intentionally mirroring the words. Haechan walks in a circle, still carrying you in his arms, and unlike when you’re standing on your own two feet, he actually has to look up slightly to meet your gaze with his own. Something doesn’t feel quite right, though, both of you sensing that you should be putting more effort into the eye contact between you right now.

“No, no, no! Stop for a second.” Your choreographer looks frustrated.

“You have to look at each other like you really mean it,” she corrects. “Just imagine that you’re two lovers on Halloween night, clinging to each other for dear life as you’re being surrounded by every kind of monster imaginable.” Even Haechan flushes a deep red at the descriptive picture she paints in your minds, hoping to inspire you. “Try again, please.”

Putting every necessary emotion into your expressions, you both stare each other down as he lifts you up again, this time with a never-before-seen passion burning in your eyes that could only be described as crazed, lustful desire.

Haechan has always admired your skills, although internally these days, ever since he met you, especially your ability to easily adapt to the message or tone of a piece. Happiness, sadness, anger, whatever your instructor asked of you, you could embody the exact feeling on your face, not to mention in the way that you moved to the beat. Out of all of the scenarios your choreographer could have illustrated, this one is something he never would have expected you to be so ready for. He’s taken aback by how smoothly your facial expression transitions from sheepish to seductive in no time flat.

You wish you could say that you’re not flustered by how well he matches the look in your eyes with his own tantalizing gaze, but alas, that’s not the case.

It’s undoubtedly a dance with a more mature theme than either of you are used to, but you’re both such naturals at it that she compliments you once Haechan sets you back on the ground.

“That’s exactly what I want to see! Keep it up, you two. Are you sure you’ve never been in a piece with any sexual tension before?”

You’re glad you hadn’t quite taken a sip from your water bottle yet, because you definitely would’ve spit it out from pure shock and embarrassment at the bluntness of her remark. Haechan was not so lucky.

The two of you run through the dance almost endlessly, and by the end of your rehearsal your legs are threatening to give out at any moment. “Last time,” she alerts you, “And then you’re done for the day.”

A chorus of some minor corrections but mostly proud affirmations meets your ears as you practice the piece for the final time. “Other foot, Haechan... Strong arms! Good... And lift! That’s it...”

About to collapse from exhaustion and grimacing at the disgusting feeling of sweat on every inch of your skin, both of you thank the choreographer once she dismisses you.

“You two did a great job today, now go home and rest. You worked hard.”

Fishing your car keys out of your bag, you hear her packing up her things inside the studio before she exits the room and strides into the hallway, flipping the light switch and shutting the door behind her. “I’m going to recommend to your teacher that she should partner you up more often. I was really surprised by how well you collaborated.” She chuckles a little, “And to think she told me that you might not get along.”

Exchanging questioning looks, you both nod and smile at her before she makes her way down the hallway, leaving the building through the staff door.

“What was that all about?”

“No idea,” you reply to Haechan with nervousness in your voice, not sure if this is the right time to apologize for several years’ worth of constantly being at each other’s throats.

The moment passes before you can make a decision, and Haechan bids you farewell with a “See you around” over his shoulder. You can’t get the choreographer’s comment out of your mind as you drive home.

But she’s right: your chemistry with each other is unbelievable. Each time you practice this dance in front of them, the rest of your friends stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed at how you move in perfect unison, leaping and turning and touching at all the right moments. Your instructor is sure her jaw is on the floor. Sure, she was expecting something powerful, something fierce, but nothing like this.

The weeks leading up to the Halloween showcase are hectic, as they always are, filled with the rush of adrenaline and last-minute preparations being made, ensuring that everything would be ready for those long nights spent on waiting behind the curtains, moving amidst the stage fog, and dancing below the bright spotlights.

You think you’ve spoken to Haechan more in the past 4 days than you have in the past 4 years. He doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination, but it seems like you’ve gotten more comfortable performing with him as time has gone by. Maybe he should be paying more attention to the steps instead of the way you lean further into him as he clutches your form in his strong arms, torsos pressing into one another and the crevices of your bodies aligning with ease. Maybe he shouldn’t get distracted by the closeness of your lips to his forehead, by the distance that always seems to decrease each time you run through the dance. One day he’s sure he’ll feel their delicate curve against his skin, or maybe they’ll slip down a little to be more level with his. Either way, Haechan isn’t complaining.

The rehearsals that spill over from their scheduled time slots into the late hours of the night leave everyone in the show drowsy after the intense quantities of repeated exertion, running piece after piece over and over again until just standing up is a feat within itself.

And then, all of a sudden, it’s the day of the first show. Costumes have been tailored, makeup has been applied and hair has been done up with an ungodly amount of products and pins.

It can’t be much longer until it’s your turn to perform, so you’re not sure why you find yourself grabbing Haechan by the sleeve of his intentionally tattered shirt, meant to look like that of a zombie, and pulling him into a dark, secluded corner of the backstage area.

“We’re on in 5, what are y—”

“Can I apologize?”

He blinks a few times, processing the word he never thought he would hear leave your lips.

“For... huh?”

“Everything.” You’re thankful that the lighting is minimal back here, concealing the glistening water drops that are beginning to gather at the rims of your eyes.

Voice nearly breaking, you can’t articulate why it feels like the right time to say all of this. But here you are.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for so many years of unexplained anger and outbursts towards you, I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so immature even after all this time. I’m sorry for blaming you and making excuses to justify my actions and my feelings, I—”

You have more that you want to say but the words are no longer coming out, and maybe it’s because your throat feels like it’s burning from all of the emotion it just conveyed in the span of just a few seconds. Maybe it’s because you’ve somehow lost your voice even though you hadn’t been speaking above a whisper. But the most probable cause of them all, is this: maybe it’s because you’ve been rendered speechless by Haechan’s own apology that he delivers by messily crashing his mouth into yours, any further thoughts melting away against his soft lips.

For once, you don’t mind being cut off by him if it’s like this.

His heart begins to sink when you pull away after only a few seconds, but a small smile graces his features once again as you lean in so that your lips hover next to his ear.

“You better not mess up my makeup, Lee Haechan.”

“Donghyuck, actually.”

“What?” Quizzically, you arch an eyebrow.

“My name. My real name.”

“So why do y—”

“Shh, no time. Kiss now, talk later.”

You can’t argue with that. Not when he’s beholding you with a long-awaited forgiveness and a fondness long-concealed in his eyes. Not when the thrill of a time limit has your brains going a mile a minute, an electric buzz erupting over the expanse of your skin his hands are grasping.

You kiss him like it’s the only thing in the whole world that you know how to do. The setting is far from picturesque, with the tangled technical wires littering the floor at your feet and leftover stage equipment haphazardly leaning against the wall, but neither of you really care. Taking care not to snag the fabric of your costume, his fingers find purchase on your waist and his lips on the dip of your collarbone. At first they dotingly imprint fleeting pecks onto the rise and fall of the skin there, but when their pressure and his haste starts to escalate, you know you have to stop him before he starts something you can’t finish.

“Hyuck!” The abbreviation of his name makes his head snap up, bewildered but pleased.

“You can’t leave marks, I told you...” you trail off. “Hey, why are you smiling like that?”

“Please never call me anything else, ever.”

Donghyuck brings you in for one more kiss, well aware that a stagehand could turn the corner at any given moment. Drinking you in, he captures your lips between his, letting your body press his back into the wall behind him, and a few sharp inhales later, you break apart.

You fix his hair while he adjusts your clothes, and you’re just in time because a technician spots you and urgently gestures towards the stage. “You’re up!”

Positioning yourselves on opposite sides of the large performance space, the lights go down and you hear the rush of air from the heavy curtain opening as it glides past you. The thick artificial smoke partially obscures his form, but you can see his eyes clearly, nearly glowing in the darkness.

As the music starts, slow and quiet at first, you step to the rhythm just like you practiced. When a loud, electronic chord blares, you both pick up speed, launching into that waltz step you first learned many weeks earlier. For the first time ever, you’re able to look into his eyes.

Anyone could see that your movements complement each other effortlessly, but only your teacher picks up on the shift in mood after the countless times she’s seen you perform in the studio. Only she notices the shift in both of your gazes. You look... happy. Focused. Confident.

Donghyuck was able to bring you out of the shell you retreated into so long ago. You don’t feel subordinate as you’re dancing next to him, or being held in his arms. You move as equals, two parts of a whole.

When he picks you up, you can’t help but allow a small smile to stretch your lips. Donghyuck tries to remind you that you’re supposed to have lustful looks in your eyes by narrowing his own at you, but it’s no use. Your slight grin is contagious, and it ends up taking over his face as well.

You finish the piece smoothly, ending in a pose with your backs pressed together and hands clasped. Applause erupts from the audience, and a few cheers come from the rest of the performers waiting in the wings, shielded from the view of the crowd sitting in the seats below.

Needless to say, as you pass other dancers in the halls and receive countless congratulations and compliments, all you can think about is having Donghyuck’s lips on your skin again.

One long heart-to-heart and dozens, no, hundreds of kisses later, all is right with your world. It’s foreign territory to you both, not wanting to pounce on each other at every waking moment. But it’s something you’ll explore together, figuring out how to make up for lost time and just how to go about this newly-repaired relationship.

Exiting the empty dressing room, you take his hand in your own and head backstage once again to watch the rest of the showcase from the side, with your head leaning on his shoulder and his arm pulling you close.

At the party held for all the members of the show’s cast that night, it’s far too loud for your liking, and there’s no room to properly dance with Donghyuck. Despite you all being professional dancers-in-training, everyone else seems to have reverted to the mindset of your average high school student, thinking that jumping up and down repeatedly qualifies as dancing. You disagree, but whatever. It’s not important.

What is important, however, is the fact that the two of you would much rather escape the suffocating crowd of young adults. You would much rather slip out through the sliding glass door that leads to the house’s backyard, marveling at the fading sunset that melts into a deep blue night sky dotted with splashes of clustered lights. The stars are nature’s spotlights, shining down on you as Donghyuck takes you in his arms, one hand finding yours and the other resting on your side, somewhere between your hips and your waist.

Swaying in the silence with only the noises of the evening as your soundtrack, the boy that you would’ve sworn was the devil incarnate a month ago looks so angelic, so lovable. You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on.

“So, should we start over?”

“Definitely.”

There’s no one else in this world you’d rather dance the night away with.

[cowboyified]

Why don't we slip away?

"Why don't we slip away?"

She says it by his ear, pressed heavy into his side. It's accompanied by a guiding hand on his shoulder, turning him towards the door; making it easy.

She's pretty enough, the length of her dress doing her most of the favours. Sweet smelling in a way that makes him want to put his mouth to all the delicate places she'd applied perfume, replace it with sweat, the wisps of her fine blonde hair stuck to the nape of her neck. He's good that, and she bites her lip like she knows it.

Except Dean's lost count of how many shots he's had and the location of his brother. Only one of those is cause for concern.

Dean gives her his last ten dollars in way of apology, tells her to buy herself another drink. She scowls dirtily and Dean watches her go with only a little regret.

Sam's sitting in the booth folding soggy beer labels into tiny chatterboxes. The questions he's asking it are probably unkind. Sam's frowns have become a permanent fixture, all of seventeen, clumsy with adolescence, drunk on the idea of anywhere but here. Or maybe just drunk. Dean had snuck him in to lighten him up a little.

He's made him worse.

"I can wait here if you want to use the car," Sam says before Dean's even made himself known. His brother doesn't look up.

"What?" He's whiskey-slow.

"To fuck her?"

Dean catches up, stumbles mentally to get there. He shakes his head. "I'm not-” Dean rubs his chest, uncomfortable. “Jesus, c'mon let's just go."

Sam sculls the last of his drink, tipping back his head. He stands and Dean’s too slow to move out of the way, his brother in his space, almost standing on his toes and he forgets that Sam is just about taller than him now. He feels woozy with the reminder - until Sam stumbles on his feet and Dean has to catch his elbow before he finds himself on the floor. 

“How much have you drunk?”

Sam shakes him off violently. “Who cares. What else was I supposed to do while you were off trying to wet your dick.” 

The part of Dean’s drunk that makes him want to be violent rears its head for a moment. He pushes his brother through the throng towards the exit. They stumble out onto the gravel parking lot and the frigid night air makes him cough. 

“Pretty fucking ungrateful, Sam. I could have left you at home. It’s not my fault you don’t know how to have a good time.” 

Sam goes still ahead of him, swaying a little on his feet, - could be his own wobble - wipes the back of his hand over his mouth before turning around and pushing Dean backwards with enough force to trip him up on the loose stones. He goes down. 

There’s a flicker of concern in Sam’s expression but it disappears as fast as it came and he’s grabbing Dean by the collar and heaving him up, Dean’s hands clawed around Sam’s arms. The world spins in spirals of neon and he thinks he might hurl.

His elbow is bleeding from the fall, gravel caught up in the gunge, the pain is secondary with how hard his back hits the weatherboards of the bar. His head is inches from a fusebox and the corner of it rusted and sharp, it calls him lucky in a cartoonish voice that Dean makes up in his rattled head. 

It takes more than a moment to register Sam’s mouth on his. 

Nowhere near a first, but kissing your brother isn’t something you get used to. 

“This how you were going to show her a good time?” Sam asks, his cold hands under Dean’s shirt, against his belly. He flinches against it. 

Dean shoves weakly against Sam’s chest. “Well, I would have tried for little more romantic, a little less blood maybe.” 

Sam curls up his nose, angry, he ducks his head to get at Dean’s neck, pushes him back into the wall fully. Dean is startled by how much weight is behind it, his little brother able to overpower him. His dick has other interpretations, his jeans tight and uncomfortable with Sam pressed close.

“Don’t do that again,” Sam says against his neck, teeth and tongue and heat down his spine. 

“Hmm?” Dean asks, hazy, his hands sliding up the back of Sam’s shirt of their own accord. 

“Don’t bring me along to your hook-ups,” he says, kissing him, drunk and messy and open-mouthed when Sam grabs him around his jeans. “Not when I’m right here.”

[whitesparrows97]

Heartstring Melodies – Part 9 (final)

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (feat. Jeon Jungkook x Reader)

Genre: Soulmate AU, College AU, fuckboy!Yoongi

Summary: Min Yoongi, the fuckboy of the whole college and the guy all girls fall for, should be your soulmate? You don’t believe that, you don’t want to believe that. Therefore, you and your best friend make a pact: She pretends to be you and gets together with Yoongi. Nothing can go wrong with that, right?

Warnings: Fluff, explicit sexual content including oral (female receiving), fingering, handjobs, first time sex, swearing while having sex

Word Count: 7K

Previous

Chapter nine: «Forever is composed of nows.» – e.d.

The next weeks you were happier than probably ever before in your life. It was almost cheesy to have the thought alone, but it was true for you. Everything went more than great between you and Yoongi. You gave each other the space you both needed and at the same time were happy about every second you spent together. After the problems with Yoongi had been solved, you finally had time and a clear head for your neglected studies again. You and Jin made good progress with the lab tasks and the first round of exams was done as well. You had been a bit cautious at first (and to be honest, you still were) when you got back in touch with Liv. You were glad that she finally realized that your plan didn’t work out. However, you were a bit suspicious if it was a good idea to let her back into your life if she had been so obsessed with Yoongi at one point. That’s why you were currently satisfied with the couple of messages you sent each other every few days. Everything else would be seen in the future. 

The only thing that still caused you some concern was when your thoughts drifted to Jungkook. You felt remorse that would probably never completely go away. But not only towards him, but also towards Yoongi. He tried to hide it from you, but you knew that he was also burdened by Jungkook’s extreme withdrawal from him. And you both knew it was your fault. At least, thanks to Hoseok, Yoongi got regular updates on how the younger one was doing. But that wasn’t the same as sitting across from each other and talking, of course. It was especially difficult when the group of friends had planned an evening together. Most of the time, Yoongi would cancel to make it easier for Jungkook. By doing so, he had distanced himself not only from Jungkook, but from the entire group. To see him like that made you sad and was the small drop of bitterness that dulled your happiness a bit. 

That’s why you were more than surprised when you received a text from Jungkook a good two months later. You were in Yoongi’s apartment, which had become more or less your second home during the last weeks. The two of you were lying on the couch, an episode of your current favorite show was playing on the TV in front of you when your phone suddenly lit up. You groaned as you sat up to grab it from the coffee table. You had to squeeze your eyes slightly as you tried to get your eyes used to your bright display in the dark room and see who was texting you. Then you almost dropped the phone out of your hand in surprise. 

“It’s Jungkook,” you heard yourself say, and Yoongi also straightened up a little next to you. 

“What’s he saying?” 

Your eyes quickly glanced over the few lines of text and with each additional word your eyes widened a little more. “He wants to meet us,” you said after a few seconds when your brain had processed the information. 

“Us?” Yoongi asked and you nodded as you read Jungkook’s message over and over again, fearing that you had interpreted the meaning wrong. But the text was clear. 

“He explicitly says both of us.” You turned your head and looked at Yoongi, who gave you a cautious smile. 

“Maybe everything can really work out between us.”

“Did Hoseok say anything, did he hint at anything?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Not at all, but I’ll ask him again. But he would have told me if there was anything new.”

“Hmm,” you just said, putting your phone aside and letting yourself fall back against Yoongi’s chest. Immediately he wrapped his hands around your waist and, deep in thought, played with the cord of your hoodie. “I’m really curious what he wants to tell us. Especially to both of us.”

“Maybe he just wants to wish us all the best,” Yoongi thought, “We haven’t talked to each other in over two months.”

“That was really unfair of him,” you sighed, “You had nothing to do with my stupid behavior. He can be as angry with me as he wants. But you are one of his best friends.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Yoongi said and gave you a short kiss on the temple. “But I can understand him. Let’s not worry too much about that. Let’s just wait and see what he has to tell us.”

A few days later you were on your way to the café Jungkook had suggested. You were rarely in this part of the city and it was also quite far from Jungkook’s apartment, which surprised you. Your hands were sweating with excitement and Yoongi, who noticed your nervousness, squeezed your hand once. 

“Don’t worry so much, baby,” he said encouragingly and stroked the back of your hand with his thumb to underline his statement. He pushed the door open with his free hand and immediately the soft music and the warmth of the café came out to you. 

“What if he only wants to blame us?” you quietly replied, for fear Jungkook would somehow hear you. Even though you hadn’t seen him yet and didn’t know if he was even there yet. 

“Have you ever seen him angry?” Yoongi joked and also kept an eye out for the younger one. “I don’t think he’s capable of that.” He raised his hand in greeting and you followed his gaze. In the farthest corner of the cafe, Jungkook sat alone at a table for four people. He had looked up from the menu and waved back at you. 

Should you let go of Yoongi’s hand? Was it weird for him to see you and Yoongi together?

You looked at Yoongi and just saw the corners of his mouth twitching upwards before he slowly let his hand slip out of yours. He gave you a quick sideways glance and once again you were amazed at how well he seemed to know you. But that was probably the benefit of having a soulmate…

“Hi, Jungkook,” Yoongi greeted him and let himself fall on a chair opposite him. Quickly you followed him and took the seat next to him. “It’s good to finally see you again.”

Jungkook’s gaze was fixed on you but you were glad that you didn’t see any reluctance in it, as you had feared at first. When he realized that you had noticed his gaze, he quickly looked up at the tabletop and rubbed his neck almost embarrassed. “I know, I’m sorry I just disappeared like that.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” you clarified immediately and Jungkook threw a grateful smile at you. 

“Nevertheless I could have contacted you. Especially you, Yoongi-Hyung.”

“Don’t worry about that, Jungkookie. You needed your time and that’s completely understandable,” Yoongi also reassured him. 

For a moment, it was quiet between you, only the soft atmospheric music filled the café. There was hardly anyone else there except you, and you only heard a soft laugh and muffled voices in the distance. Your fingers twitched and wanted to grab Yoongi’s hand, which practically served as an anchor when you got nervous. But you kept yourself from doing so. As relaxed as Jungkook seemed, you didn’t have to rub it in his face how happy you and Yoongi were. By looking closely at Jungkook’s face, you realized how much he had changed. The insecurity that you had seen so often in his eyes had completely disappeared. His eyes were beaming and a constant little smile was playing around his lips as if he had just thought of a funny situation from the past. He was about to start talking when suddenly the waitress stood behind him.

“Have you decided yet?” She asked with a warm smile. Her eyes remained on you a little too long, but you ignored it and ordered a hot chocolate. Even if it wasn’t quite the right time of year for it, you could always drink one. Especially now that summer was finally over. Yoongi and Jungkook also placed their orders and the waitress went to prepare them. You tried not to let your surprise show when she tenderly stroked her hand over Jungkook’s shoulders. Yoongi, on the other hand, was not quite so reserved. You saw from the corner of your eye how he raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Jungkook gave a nervous laugh when he saw this. 

“Got some explaining to do, huh?” His fingers brushed across the edge of the menu as he searched for the right words. “I met Alisa about four weeks ago when I first came to this café.”

“Four weeks?” Yoongi asked, “then that’s still pretty new.”

Jungkook smiled slightly. “Yes, it is–” The rest of the sentence was interrupted by Alisa, who brought you your drinks. With a little ‘Thank you’ you accepted the cup. After everyone had received their drink, she took a seat next to Jungkook. You couldn’t see it, but it looked like she reached for Jungkook’s hand under the table and you had to hold back a smile. 

“I am glad to finally meet you,” she greeted you with the same warm smile as before. “Jungkook has told me a lot about you two.”

“Oh no,” it bubbled out of you before you could stop it. But Alisa just laughed. 

“Nothing bad, don’t worry, Y/N. Jungkook only spoke highly of you. About both of you,” she emphasized with a look at you and her smile promised that she probably knew your and Jungkook’s background story, but did not condemn you for it. She looked to the side and shared a little smile with Jungkook. You were happy for Jungkook, of course you were. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder about the suddenness with which Jungkook was over you. The two of them were obviously more than happy and, what you realized at once, obviously in love. And yet the two had only known each other for about a month? 

Could it be that…?

You didn’t want to ask, it wasn’t your place to question Jungkook and Alisa. It would be embarrassing if you were wrong. But the more your eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them, the more certain you were. Jungkook focused his attention on you again and it seemed as if the question that was burning on your mind was also written all over your face.

He smiled somewhat shyly and then gave a satisfied sigh. “I know what you are thinking, Y/N,” he said. You remained silent, hoping that he would add something to his statement. “I was really disappointed when I found out about the whole plan and about Yoongi. I don’t think we have to pretend that I wasn’t.” You looked at him with sad eyes, but he was right. To pretend that your actions didn’t hurt him was pointless. “But all that’s behind us now and I don’t hold any grudge against you. On the contrary,” he explained and you saw out of the corner of your eye how Alisa smiled slightly. “I understand how you felt when suddenly everything turned upside down. Because I feel the same way.” He threw a sincere smile at you before he and Alisa looked at each other. That look you saw with your own eyes said it all and a smile spread across your face. 

“Congratulations, both of you,” Yoongi said with a short nod and at the same moment you felt his hand on your thigh. Without hesitation, you grabbed it with your hand and intertwined your fingers. He squeezed them tight once, as if to confirm that everything would be okay from now on. 

“I’m very happy for you, I can’t put it into words how much,” you said, “You know that I only wanted you to be happy, Jungkook.”

“I am,” he said almost dreamily as he and Alisa continued to look at each other. “Very much so.”

When you said goodbye to each other a good two hours and relaxed conversations later, a stone fell from your heart. As distressed and confused as you had entered the café, as liberated you felt when you left it again. Yoongi didn’t say much on the way back, but you knew that he felt the same way. The radio silence between him and Jungkook had caused him more trouble than he showed. He didn’t want to burden you even more with it because you already felt too much guilt anyway. But he, too, seemed to have a slight jump in his walk; the Sword of Damocles, which seemed to hover over you for the last few weeks, had disappeared. You wondered if it would be even more wonderful with Yoongi now.

After all, there was still one thing that you and Yoongi kept pushing back…

It was definitely not your fault, but rather Yoongi’s. If he hadn’t repeatedly reassured you that he wanted to wait with it because of you, you would begin to worry if something was wrong with you. But he wanted to make sure that you were ready and really wanted it. The fact that you had been sure of this weeks ago was not a significant argument for Yoongi. But maybe things had changed now that Jungkook had a soulmate and he had practically wished you both all the best?

At least you hoped so, because as patient as you were, you didn’t want to wait any longer. 

You took a quick sideways glance at Yoongi, who looked intently at the TV screen that was showing an episode of his favorite show. The weather had definitely diminished the last few days and had changed from bright sunshine to rainy and cloudy days. But you could not complain, on the contrary. The worse the weather was, the more time you could spend at home with Yoongi in peace. No distractions, no disturbances from other people… Actually, it was perfect to enjoy a little togetherness. Before you knew it, a soft sigh slipped across your lips. Yoongi kept looking at the TV but asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” you lied. You had brought up the subject so many times, hoping Yoongi would understand that you were really ready. All the more reserved you were now, your courage was more or less used up and you didn’t want to be rejected again. Even though Yoongi had made it clear to you that it wouldn’t be rejection on his part. But for you, it felt that way and you had the feeling that your emotions and desires would soon burst out of you.

Yoongi also sighed before he reached for the remote control and stopped the show. Then he turned his head towards you, “What’s really wrong, honey?”

Honey. He had gone over to that pet name a few days ago and as cheesy as you found it with other couples, as warm you felt all around you when he called you that. At least usually. But in the last few weeks there had been so much build-up that you just wanted to direct the attention back to the TV and the show at that moment. 

“It’s really nothing, and now watch your show again,” you said and you noticed yourself how your voice was nothing more than a mixture of whining and complaining. 

Yoongi sighed, but this time it sounded annoyed. He turned completely around to you now and looked at you waiting. But you remained silent and stared at the TV to make him understand what you wanted at that moment. He took your hand and pulled you in his direction. You were able to support yourself with your elbow on the sofa before you landed on it with your face. Annoyed, you looked up at him. “What?”

He had to grin because of your annoyed expression. “Is it possible you’re acting upset because you’re a little frustrated?”

“Frustrated?” you asked, almost outraged. “What the hell does that mean?”

Yoongi pulled you a little closer to him so that he could wrap his other arm around your body and pull you onto his lap. Your eyes widened slightly as his face was suddenly only a few inches away from yours. You felt his hot breath on your face and your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment before you took a deep breath. 

“I think we both know exactly what I mean,” Yoongi whispered, and every syllable of his spoken words gently brushed against your lips, which had already opened slightly in anticipation.

“And what exactly is that?” you whispered back just as softly and you heard Yoongi laugh gently before he pressed his lips passionately on yours. You buried your hands in his hair and pulled him even closer to you, causing him to moan. The sound went straight to your crotch and your walls contracted around nothing. Was this finally the right time? Or did Yoongi tease you again, only to put you off until later? 

A bit hesitant you returned the kiss when you felt his tongue on your lips. You did not want to be left sitting there hot and ready again. Yoongi felt your reluctance and interrupted the kiss. He leaned back a bit and looked at you with a frown. “What’s wrong? Have I done something wrong? Is this going too fast for you?”

You looked at him with indignation for a moment before you gave an ironic laugh. “Too fast? Yoongi, we’ve talked about this so many times…”

You looked up just in time to see the short twitch of the corners of his mouth. Quickly he hid it again behind his played worried masquerade. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby.”

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled and wanted to get up from his lap, but Yoongi held you tight at your hips and pressed you harder into his lap. You gasped for air as something hard pressed right into your crotch. 

“Oh, am I?” he asked innocently and began to circle your hips against his crotch. You could practically feel his erection swelling by the second. You gave in to the good feeling that was spreading inside of you and between your legs for a moment before you put your hands on his and stopped him in his movement. 

Seriously you looked at him. “I’m really serious, Yoongi. I don’t want to wait any longer and if you don’t want to do it yet, for whatever reason,” you ignored how defiant you sounded, “then let’s just stop it at this point and continue watching your show.”

“Shall I explain again the reasons why I blocked the last few times?” he asked with an equally serious expression. 

You immediately shook your head vigorously. “I’ve already listened to your lecture three times. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Good,” Yoongi replied and his hands began to gently stroke your back before they finally buried themselves in your hair. “Then we’ve cleared everything up.”

For a moment, you were afraid that he would pull back and ask you to get up from his lap. All the more satisfied, and also a little excited, you were when he pushed your head down towards him and continued with the kiss exactly where you had stopped. Readily you opened your mouth and his tongue entered you. He explored your mouth, which he had gotten to know more than well over the past weeks, and absorbed your taste. He grunted contentedly into the kiss as you circled your hips against his. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured into the kiss and a second later he pressed his mouth firmly back onto yours. Slowly he let his hands slide under your shirt and you shivered slightly as you felt his cool, slightly rough fingertips on your naked skin. You could still taste the hint of coffee on his tongue as his played with yours. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and his cold hands almost burned on your heated skin. You wanted more, you needed more. You pressed your lips harder, more willingly on his and Yoongi seemed to understand. 

He grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it over your head in one quick movement. His eyes moved directly over your upper body and he absorbed all the information he saw before he looked into your eyes again. “I’ll probably never get used to this sight,” he said and spread many small, almost harmless kisses on your jaw and neck and décolleté. As he kissed further down and reached your shoulder, he once lightly bit your collarbone, eliciting a hissing sound from you. But Yoongi licked right across the spot with his tongue as if he wanted to ease the pain. 

You had your eyes closed to concentrate on Yoongi’s lips, which sucked at your neck and made you moan. So you blindly fumbled for his shirt and pulled it over his head as well. You could never get enough of him, of his light, almost pale skin, his contrasting jet black hair, which was running in a single strip from his belly button to the waistband of his jeans, or the muscles, which tensed and relaxed with every movement. And of course the fine black lines that carried your name. You wondered if you would ever not feel your heart pounding when your gaze fell on it. It was almost a surprise every time you saw the tattoo.

“Do you want to take this to your bedroom?” you asked the question you had never dared to ask before. But now seemed like the perfect moment. Hopefully Yoongi felt the same way. 

He pressed a kiss on your neck and on the spot where a dark blue hickey would probably be seen later on, before he looked at you from half closed eyes. His chest rose and fell faster than normal and it seemed as if he had to catch his breath again before he nodded. He gripped your thighs with a firm and secure grip and lifted you up without further ado. Quickly you wrapped your arms around his neck and could not suppress the giggle as he kicked his bedroom door with his foot and it slammed against the wall. “Not so rough,” you teased him and he gave you a meaningful look before he laid you down on the bed with your back first. 

“Let’s see if you say that in a moment.” He didn’t waste a second and was right above you. His mouth found yours and he lowered his hips. You willingly spread your legs so he could get between them. He grabbed your thigh and you wrapped it around his hip, always hoping to somehow pull him even closer to you. “Fuck, I’m so hard,” he moaned as his pelvis touched yours. He didn’t need to tell you that, you felt his cock more than clearly between your legs. Your fingers trembled slightly, you didn’t know from excitement or arousal, when you started to undo the buttons on his jeans. With some effort you pulled the tight jeans off his ass and he straightened up to take them off completely. 

You couldn’t help but stare. Your gaze was caught directly on his black boxer shorts, under which a distinct tent could be seen. Unconsciously you rubbed your thighs together to bring some friction to the place where you needed it most. You heard a throat clear and looked up in surprise. “My eyes are up here,” Yoongi said with a little smile. You straightened up slightly and reached behind you to open the fastener of your bra. Without paying much attention, you dropped it on the floor next to the bed. 

Immediately Yoongi lay down between your legs again and spread small kisses on your belly, around your belly button and further up until he finally arrived just below your left breast. There he devoted himself extensively to the tattoo, on which he distributed countless kisses and traced the fine lines with his tongue. You let your head roll to the side with a sigh when you felt his fingers on your other breast and he kneaded it gently. As he carefully rolled your nipple between two of his fingers, you couldn’t help but moan. 

He had moved from your tattoo to your breast and started sucking on your nipple. Only the loud sucking of his mouth and tongue and your moaning could be heard as he circled his tongue around your nipple. You could feel him grinning as he released your nipple with a loud pop and started to move down again. He grabbed the waistband of your pants and started to pull them down in a slow, teasing movement. You wiggled your legs impatiently to speed up the process, but Yoongi grabbed your ankles and looked at you seriously from below.

“We’ll take it slow or not at all,” he said and his voice showed you that he was not open to discussion. “This is your first time and I want it to be as enjoyable as possible.”

“You are here, so that’s already enough,” you returned without hesitation, but Yoongi rolled his eyes. 

“I mean it, Y/N. The first time is usually not as great as it’s always shown in movies. At least not the sex itself. That’s why I want to make the rest of it as pleasant as possible. Deal?”

You looked at him for a moment and wondered if it was worth discussing. You wanted him, everything from him and best of all right now. But he looked at you as seriously as you had hardly seen him before, and that showed you that he was serious about it. Therefore, after a short consideration, you nodded and let yourself sink back into the soft cushions. He gave you a short kiss on the calf and with a mixture of kisses and slight flicks of his tongue, he made his way further and further upwards. Centimeter by centimeter he explored the skin on your legs and when he reached your thighs and his soft lips nibbled slightly on the skin on the inside, you squirmed a bit. 

He made a dissatisfied sound and wrapped his hands tightly around your thighs so that you could not move them. “Yoongi…” you whimpered and tried to push him further towards your core with your hands in his hair. The glance he gave you when he realized what you were doing went right through you, and you felt your slip already sticking on you, so wet you were. He clicked briefly with his tongue and you watched the movement with anticipation. He shook his head slightly and muttered something of which you only understood the two words “impatient” and “brat”. 

But even he seemed to have had enough of the slow pace for now, when he took one hand off your leg and carefully pushed your slip aside with one finger. You sighed as the cold air hit your heated opening and Yoongi also sighed at the sight he saw. You, under him and completely devoted to him, while your opening almost throbbed and begged to be filled with something. His mouth was almost watering when he noticed your juice dripping out of you, so aroused were you. Unconsciously he licked his lips before he buried his head between your legs and took a first taste of you. 

He moaned as his tongue slipped over your labia and with one long movement he licked as much of you as possible. You arched your back and were glad to have Yoongi’s hands that held you down as you moaned loudly. Oh God, you did not know where to go. Where to put your hands, which were buried in the blanket at the moment. Where to put that indescribable feeling that radiated from your lower abdomen and consumed you completely. Yoongi’s tongue circled around your clit and you whimpered. 

“Oh God, Yoongi,” you moaned and he took one of your hands to bury it in his dark curls. “Fuck, please don’t stop.” You pressed him harder between your legs and he sucked on your plump bundle of nerves, hard. The knot in your abdomen tightened and you already had the feeling that you were about to come. By yourself it took you minutes, sometimes even hours and nothing felt as good as Yoongi, who could send shivers through your entire body with the smallest of movements. 

You could feel him grinning before he took one hand off your leg. You let your legs slide a little further apart to give him enough room and a moment later you felt one of his fingers at your opening. He rubbed his finger over your labia and coated it with your moisture before he started to press it against your opening. “We have to prepare you,” you heard him murmuring softly, but the only thing you could concentrate on was his tongue, which was still working on your clit, and his finger, which slowly penetrated you. Almost gently, he advanced centimeter by centimeter, so you could get used to him. When he had completely penetrated you, he slowly pulled it out of you again. The next time he penetrated you, his ring finger joined him and you held your breath as he stretched you. 

He gave you a kiss on your inner thigh when two of his fingers were buried deep inside you. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he praised you and returned to your clitoris. He enveloped it with his lips and sucked on it while his fingers began to curl and search for that slightly rough spot inside you. Your eyes opened and you gasped loudly for air when Yoongi’s fingers found that spot and you heard him laugh softly. Over and over again, he hit your G-spot with every further curl of his fingers, and his tongue and lips sent white heat over you, so you had to squeeze your eyes together because you felt like you couldn’t stand this overwhelming feeling otherwise. 

“Yoongi–,” you began, but you couldn’t get another word out. Instead, indefinable sounds followed, all of which suddenly stopped with a particularly hard curl of his fingers against your G-spot. Your mouth fell open as a hot wave of excitement swept over you, bringing your orgasm with it. Yoongi’s name fell from your lips like a mantra as he helped you squeeze even the last drop of your orgasm before his fingers stopped inside you. He looked up and through almost closed eyes you saw his chin shining in the light of the bedroom. You let your head fall back again and felt the heat of the effort on your cheeks now joined by a little bit of embarrassment. 

You felt Yoongi straighten up and when you opened your eyes again, he hovered right above you. “Are you okay?” he asked and stroked your cheek with his thumb. You nodded, that’s all you were capable of and you tried to control your breathing. “Good,” he whispered and wiped his chin with his forearm. You watched the movement and when he dropped his arm again, he raised his eyebrows with a grin.

“God, you are so hot,” it slipped out of you before you could think about it. Yoongi’s grin grew even bigger and he pressed his lips to yours. You could taste yourself and never thought that something like that would turn you on. But it did. You lifted your pelvis and pulled Yoongi between your legs again with the help of your leg, which you wrapped around his hips. His one leg was between yours and came in contact with your core. You moaned into the kiss and quickly reached for his boxer shorts, the last piece of clothing that was still left. 

Yoongi helped you pull them all the way down and his cock jumped free against his stomach. You couldn’t help but gently grab him and stroke your thumb over his tip, on which a considerable amount of pre cum had already formed. You spread them on his tip and Yoongi let his head drop with a groan. “Fuck,” you heard him murmuring and you started to move your hand slowly but steadily up and down. It wasn’t long before Yoongi pushed his hips towards you with every move you made and you couldn’t hold back the proud smile that spread across your face. 

“Baby,” he said breathlessly and grabbed your wrist. When he looked up, your breath stopped. There was passionate lust in his eyes such as you had never seen in him before and his eyes were almost black, so much his pupils were dilated. You loosened your grip and he rummaged in his bedside table before he put a square package on the bed next to you. A bit intimidated you looked at it and you realized at once that only a few moments would separate you from finally becoming one with Yoongi. 

Yoongi noticed your look and he grabbed your chin. “We don’t have to go all the way today, we can stop here,” he reassured you, but you shook your head immediately. If he would stop now, you would probably cry with disappointment. 

“I want this,” you told him again to reassure him. He leaned back a little so he sat on his knees between your spread legs and grabbed the condom. He tore open the wrapping and with a skillful roll he put the condom on. You wondered if it was normal to find this hot or if it was just because of Yoongi. That he had so much experience reassured you immensely. He knew what he was doing and the thought alone made you squeeze your legs together. 

“But if there’s anything wrong, if you feel uncomfortable for even a moment… please let me know immediately,” he whispered and you nodded. 

He took one deep breath before he supported himself with one hand next to your head and with the other hand grabbed his cock to guide it to your opening. “Normally I would suggest that we use lube,” he said with a grin and looked up at you for a moment before he looked back between your two bodies, “But you’re so wet I can just glide into you.” You felt his thick tip at your entrance and tried to relax. 

Yoongi leaned down to you and kissed you gently while at the same time he penetrated you slightly. Your breath faltered as he stretched you much further than his two fingers had done and you could swear that you were holding your breath as he pushed his way into you bit by bit. The first feeling of discomfort disappeared quickly as he slowly pulled himself out of you and entered you again, all at a slow pace to get used to him. Until even the last feeling of too much disappeared and gave way to pure pleasure. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips and let him know that he could pick up his pace. You smiled at him and he dropped his head on your shoulder. His hot breath hit your collarbone as he let his hip snap hard against yours in the next move. You stifled a choked moan as he did the exact same thing again and the clapping from skin to skin was added to your passionate moans. 

His hand found your hip and his fingers pressed into your flesh as he picked up a faster pace. With each thrust, his cock stroked past your G-spot and your inner walls were practically sucking him in, hoping to feel more and more of him. 

“Baby, you are so… fuck. You’re so tight,” he brought out between thrusts and you clung to his back just to get a little more support. You needed something to hold on to and his muscular back was practically inviting. He pushed hard into you one more time before he came to a halt deep inside you. He breathed heavily and between breaths he spread wet kisses all over your neck. Then he straightened up, took your arms and placed them on his shoulders. You understood and your heart was pounding up to your neck as he placed one hand on your lower back and pressed you firmly against him and a moment later you had switched positions. 

However, he did not release the tight grip around you and wrapped his arms around your upper body before giving you a passionate kiss. You felt him twitch inside you as you bit his lower lip and held it for a moment between your teeth before releasing it again. 

“You are breathtaking,” he said between two kisses and caressed your back. When he had reached your butt, he grabbed both buttocks with his hands and kneaded them, causing you to sigh softly. He pressed you closer into his lap before you let your hips slide back again. When you let yourself sink back into Yoongi’s lap, you felt his cock sliding even deeper into you. You both moaned at the same time. He let himself fall backwards onto the pillows and his hands remained firmly on your hips. They gave you support and guidance how you should move. He looked at you through almost closed eyes and your gaze fell further down, where he bit his lower lip. You stopped your movements and stroked your thumb over it, releasing it. 

“I want to hear you, Yoongs,” you told him honestly and he gave you a little kiss on your thumb. 

“You are so beautiful how you ride me, baby,” he said and his gaze fell on the spot where your two bodies met and connected. As you continued to circle your hips and move up and down, you began to gently circle your clitoris. You almost cried out when your finger touched it, you needed the touch so much. Your eyes closed so that you missed Yoongi’s gulp as he absorbed the sight in front of him. He looked at the tattoo, which was more than prominent on your skin, and he stroked it with his finger. You opened your eyes again and grabbed his wrist, only to place his hand a few inches higher on your breast. You didn’t need to tell him twice and he let your nipple roll between his fingers. 

You felt your abdomen contract again at the next, new spot where you felt stimulation and you knew that you would not last long after your last orgasm. You let your fingers work faster and harder on your clitoris and Yoongi helped you to pick up a faster rhythm with his free hand. 

“Are you close?” he asked breathlessly and you nodded while squinting your eyes and concentrating on the feeling between your legs. That’s why you didn’t see Yoongi put his feet on the mattress and pulled you to his chest with a sudden tug and pressed you against him with his hands on your hips. You needed that, otherwise you would have flew up towards the ceiling when he let his hips slam against yours hard. 

“Oh… My… Fuck,” the words fell from your lips as Yoongi rammed your G-spot with every one of his thrusts. The friction of his pelvis against your clitoris did the rest, so that moments later you were pushed over the edge and had your second orgasm of the evening. Yoongi followed with a few more thrusts before he finally came to a stop deep inside you and emptied himself into the condom. 

You both breathed heavily and stayed like that for a moment, both completely exhausted from the last hour. Only when you felt Yoongi slowly relaxing inside of you, did you start to stir again. You straightened up even though your arms and legs were like rubber and let him slide out of you. You immediately missed the feeling of him inside you, but you knew that the next time wouldn’t be too far away. He pulled the condom off and threw it in his trash can after he tied it. When he turned back to you, a small but satisfied smile played around his lips. Naturally, his hand placed itself on your hip and pulled you closer to him. 

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he said and gave you a kiss on the tip of your nose. 

You had to grin. “Couldn’t have been any cornier, could it?” You laughed and Yoongi rolled his eyes, but he too joined in your laughter. 

“If it’s the truth,” he almost muttered embarrassedly, and you couldn’t really see it in the dim light of the bedroom, but you thought a slight pink glow was shimmering across his cheeks. 

Your heart almost burst at the sight of the man lying naked beside you, revealing his heart to you. And you knew that you didn’t have to hold back, you didn’t have to hide anything. Therefore you did not hesitate with the next sentence. “I love you, Yoongi.”

His eyes leapt towards you and fell on your smile that had spread on your face at your words. “What are you doing to me?” he asked more to himself than to you and pressed his lips to yours in a short kiss. Then he laid his forehead on yours, eyes still closed. “I love you too, Y/N.” And these few words woven around your tattoos and both your hearts like a promise. 

A promise forever. 

————————

Oh God, guys :(( I swear, I’m so sad ending this story. I really hope you liked the ending, I just couldn’t not give Jungkook a soulmate. He was too kind and cute in this story and I would have felt so bad if I wouldn’t have given him the happy ending he deserved. 

This is probably one of my last stories with a soulmate au for a while (except for A Thousand Springs of course, this one is still going). I still have one more story planned (an OT7 one) but I really want to write something different now. I started writing a hybrid story with Taehyung and an one shot with Hoseok, so please look out for that :) I hope I can get a bit of writing done in the next few weeks. I’m not in the best place mentally right now and just frustrated because it’s so difficult finding a job. I swear, most companies look for a twenty something person with decades of experience, I can’t deal with any more rejections. But anyway, sorry for rambling. 

I hope you liked this story and thank you for reading and leaving all this lovely feedback! I came back to all your kind comments and reblogs whenever I had a bad day and they made me so happy! So please stay safe everyone and see you hopefully soon! 💜

Tag list:

@loveyoongles @missseoulite @mymainaccountlol @stillcopingxx @boywithtofucheekies @betysotelo18 @wrecklesseuphoria @welcometothecity @teresaisla @kaheryn @forever-once-gone @deathkat657 @daisybutterlions @ilillyshadow @purplelady85​ @kelitt @katbonv @mickmoon @aretha170 @tonystenk @mama-m0chi @yiyi4657 @xxsugababexx @chxmachxps @neverthefirstchoice​

[commander-diomika]

I am Very Tipsy (okay I'm drunk so sorry about spelling but also ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) but I just wanted to say that since I started reading your rqg series I have not been able to stop thinking about it! I mean the fucking development of it all just really gets to me it's incredible, don't get me wrong i like most interpretations of their relationship but there's just a soft spot for me when it comes to 'if I wasn't stuck with you we never would have gotten past how incredibly annoying you are' like every interaction they have pre-timeskip is deliberately pissing the other off and I feel like a lot of writers kinda side step it (again not a criticism) and I just love that you can feel the frustration when you write them. I mean in 'always forgive your enemies' you've got Zolf trying desperately to be like "no I've grown as a person it's been a long time he's clearly been through Some Stuff and maybe we'll be able to work together" and then Wilde says 1 sentence and zolfs immediately like "actually no fuck you I was right to not give a shot when you got tossed off a ship you're a tool" and the development of that to I don't like you but we've gotta work to whether to I don't dislike you but your friend sucks and no I'm not jealous what the fuck are you talking about to the terrified guilty rage if not being listened to but oh gods is he gonna be okay in 'experience' (along with just the utter heartbreak of Wilde almost reaching out to Zolf because yeah he does trust him now but then remembering that this is contagious and what if hes infected and what if it's HIS fault that Zolf gets sick and immediately shutting down and putting himself through a week in solitary IN THE ROOM HE SHARED WITH BOSIE SURROUNDED BY THOSE MEMORIES TOTALLY TRAPPED WITH THAT KNOWLEDGE BY THE PERSON HE TRUSTS BY HIS OWN ORDERS I MEAN FUCK DUDE and the kind of flirting except no I'm not but I mean if *you* were I wouldn't not be????? In 'the country' and 'talked about' and even then there's so many guards up and there's so much in the way - the blame the self loathing the guilt and the anger of it all AND the whole theres 2 people who had never met before we introduced them who shouldn't work are doing WHAT in quarantine (and also 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀) AND FUCK DUDE THE LATEST INSTALLMENT!? IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT SINCE YOU RELEASED IT HOLY FUCK! THE UNFAIRNESS OF THE SITUATION THE BETRAYAL OF SOMETHING LIKE THAT HUT THE ONLY THING YOU CAN BLAME IS THE CIRCUMSTANCE THE ONLY ONES YOU CAN CURSE ARE THE GODS BECAUSE THIS ISNT HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GO! THIS ISNT FAIR! WILDE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO MAKE THAT DECISION FOR HIMSELF ZOLF SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO FEEL TRUSTED THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALLOWED TO FEEL SAFE AND TRUSTED AND WHOLE AND TOGETHER AND THIS FUCKING INFECTION TOOK THAT! IT FORCED WILDE TO TALK ABOUT IT IN CIRCUMSTANCES HE COULDN'T CHOOSE! IT MADE ZOLF KNOW ABOUT BEFORE HED ACTUALLY BEEN TRUSTED WITH IT! AND IT WAS SO FUCKING UNFAIR AND DUDE IT WAS INCREDIBLE I JUST CANT ARTICULATE HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT AND THE WHOLE DISCUSSION JUST GOD IM YELLING IN MY OWN HEAD BUT NONE OF THE WORDS EXIST! I know a while ago you said you'd read something and you weren't sure about your own writing but Hank oh my fucking god please know that I've been thinking about what you wrote for the last month, I've been talking about it to my friends I'm so hyped for anything you have to write and I have no idea where you want to go with this or what points you plan to hit and everytime I get a notification I'm both excited and terrified and I just love it so fucking much your writing is incredible

Ooh my friend I have been waiting for your comment since I posted "Punish", I have come to enjoy your tipsy insights because yeah!! You get it! These fkn onion boys and their LAYERS of barriers they've both got up around intimacy (and yes I absolutely LOVED contrasting that with Barnes and Carter who in my head canon met like... 6 weeks ago? And just blew straight past any agonising over what it meant and got on with it. There's more of them in the next scene too BTW).

As soon as I decided I wanted to tackle the time gap with a trans Wilde, the strip inspections were the first thing I knew I'd have to wrestle with, and I KNEW it would be brutal and unfair and un-fun but also?? Absolutely one of the draws to ZolfWilde is that they've been through some absolute shit together, and exploring how instead of turning into unhealthy trauma bonding, it grows into something unlikely yet beautiful, and the fucked-up trans reveal was just another thing on the pile that they overcome or work through.

And Zolf has the thought of "this isn't how its supposed to go" but he wouldn't even be as close Wilde if not for the fucked up circumstances. There's no "supposed to". If this hadn't happened, Zolf and Wilde would have never worked together and continued to distantly think the other one was a git if they crossed paths. So it's a parodox of a thought.

Thank you for your nice words abt my writing, as always. I'm gonna go work on the next part u legend.

[vietzuko]

if we used to share a discord server, this post is for you!

hello! i am going to try to do this as anonymously and non-confrontationally as possible. i do not want this to be a spectacle or call out post, but i will say that i am quite disturbed by the way situations have transpired on the server. 

in case you didn’t notice, i left! when i left, i wrote a little goodbye post in #general, which has since been deleted. either the mods deleted my goodbye or they banned me from the server (which automatically would delete my message). in case you didn’t see it, here was my goodbye message:

hi everyone, i’m leaving the server. if you’re a POC who is interested in joining an ATLA server where POC can talk about ATLA and critically discuss race, feel free to PM me for a link! otherwise, this is goodbye. see you all around.

i won’t rehash everything that happened in the events leading to this, nor will i name names in this post. if you were on the server, you probably saw what happened publicly or you can message me personally, either here or on discord. if we know each other through the server and you want some clarity over names/events in this post, please PM me. 

if you are a POC in the ATLA fandom who is concerned by the events of this post and you would like me to clarify which server i’m talking about, please PM me.

i just wanted to share the very long message that i sent to the mods (on their prompting!) because i feel that it shows my perspective on what transpired.  unfortunately, this message did not result in any meaningful change, except for me getting banned/my messages removed from the server. i suppose that’s a type of meaning! haha. 

anyway. here’s the message. cw for racism, yellowface

hi MOD 1 (and presumably the other mods who will read this message)! thanks for reaching out. i’ve had some time to dwell on the situation and discuss it with other people in the server who witnessed it and reached out to me personally. this is going to be an unbelievably long message, so i apologize in advance and thank you for your time in reading it.

i think the first thing i’d like to do is give some context for the incident and to give my perspective on why i said the things i said.

i have PMed a mod about a racist incident in the server exactly once. it was when i first joined, and i saw a picture of a white person in yellowface in the cosplay channel. i didn’t know any of you personally yet (and this was before some of you even joined on as mods). i have since told SERVER MEMBER 1 about this incident and i’m pretty sure they mentioned it to you because i noticed you’ve changed the yellowface rule. but i think that the context of me pinging a mod about a racist incident and then witnessing another (although less egregious) instance of racism by the mods might explain why i am, in general, hesitant about talking to mods about racism on the server. i am just trying to live my life and experience as few micro-aggressions as possible.

i also think the fact that i regularly educate and push back against white people’s racially harmful messages in the server is also important context. i realize none of you likely know this, but about every two weeks i receive an unsolicited PM from a different white person apologizing/asking for forgiveness/asking for reassurance/asking further questions about their racism on the server. i’m glad people are learning from me, but this is a huge amount of emotional labor that i put into the server and its members because of course i have to reply and explain things and tell them not to worry and thank them for apologizing, etc. i know that these messages aren’t your fault, nor am i asking you to do anything about this. but it feels important that you know the price that i (and perhaps other poc in the server, although i can’t speak to that) pay in order to share space with you.

MOD 2 has even messaged me personally to thank me for educating people in the server and responding to racist messages, saying: “really appreciate how much effort you put in and everything, i was trying to type something up but floundering badly.” it was a nice message, and i appreciated it a lot! it also led me to believe that the mods would prefer if i engage with racist messages myself, rather than ping them, because it felt like i was just going to be more able/willing to articulate a response anyway.

so when SERVER MEMBER 2 messaged the zukka channel “thought that lives in my head rent free: Sokka's hairstyle in canon is just a warrior's hairstyle and has meaning because of that. Sokka wearing the same hairstyle in a modern AU is undisputably queer-coded” and nobody replied for a while, i assumed that it was because they had seen what i had seen-- a racially insensitive message that totally ignores sokka’s indigenous heritage and the history behind indigenous hair-- so i decided to step in with what i thought was a balanced response. 

SERVER MEMBER 2 then replied with a cheery “Fair enough! I will defer to your greater knowledge,” which i couldn’t tell was sarcastic or not, but i decided to be generous and to believe they were genuinely thankful for my reply, so i responded with a “you too can have great knowledge. i only know things because i read things. anyone can read things and learn,” which is something i firmly believe and also a way to divert the conversation away from SERVER MEMBER 2’s mistake, which i felt was the most dignified solution for them. i suppose this message could be read as aggressive because i didn’t use exclamation marks? but that feels unfair and ungenerous because i genuinely did not mean this message in a harsh way.

then SERVER MEMBER 3 jumped in and asked a few questions, which i read as a request for clarification, so i tried to continue to explain my point. it felt like SERVER MEMBER 3 wasn’t understanding what i was trying to explain, or at least i wasn’t able to articulate myself well enough, which was making me a little tired and stressy (and i was also thinking about my own race and queerness in stressful and triggering ways), so i decided to tap out of the conversation. 

me: dude i love u and i respect u and i truly believe that u are trying very hard to understand, but this conversation is making me kinda heated

SERVER MEMBER 3: I’m gonna step back from it because it’s not my conversation to insert myself into, which is what I did initially and apologize for

me: i think it's so important to engage + ask questions & i appreciate that u respect my opinions on these things, but i think i'm just. i have said what i need to say and now must sleep. much love to all.

to me, this felt like me expressing that i was feeling tired and upset and leaving the conversation, while still attempting to reassure SERVER MEMBER 3 that i still admired him as a friend. i felt like the conversation had ended peacefully!

i hope this helps explain why MOD 3’s message came as such a surprise. 

“the escalation to defensiveness and accusation regarding the original (relatively benign) statement was unnecessary and exaggerated. There’s an atmosphere of purity policing that’s been growing, which is why I took away the squick channel, as I assumed that a space that encouraged no repercussions was facilitating irresponsibility aggressive arguments. “

i truly didn’t believe i was being defensive. i was very careful not to accuse anyone of anything. in fact, i tried as far as i could to coat my language in “i” statements-- “i would personally not choose…”, “i would just. stay away from…” in order to avoid “accusations.” i was also trying very hard not to be aggressive, and i (and other poc that i have spoken to about this) believe that the idea that my messages were aggressive is racialized. just because a poc is upset about racism, it doesn’t mean they’re attacking you personally! 

i feel so hurt that my messages were wilfully interpreted in this way, instead of being read generously and from a more compassionate perspective, especially since i voiced my own upset and discomfort during the conversation. it distresses me to think that me expressing negative emotions is seen as aggressive, rather than a cause for empathy or care, and i do believe that this is because of my race.

if a mod had asked me to take the messages to the DMs or to squick or even just let me know that someone was interpreting my messages as aggressive, i would have changed my behavior. (like i said earlier, i spend a HUGE amount of energy coddling white people on this server. i am very used to it.) 

instead, i got the shock of 45 minutes after the fact, being publicly chastised and labeled as aggressive and being told that my conversation was “something nasty or unwanted.” 

the idea that SERVER MEMBER 3 was de-escalating a “clearly escalating situation” feels untrue to me. i was ready to move on after i sent my message to SERVER MEMBER 2, but he kept engaging me on the subject! (no hate to SERVER MEMBER 3 on this.)

i think one of the most painful parts of this whole situation is the implication that i was attempting to “purity police,” as though i am a person who picks fights just because i want to feel good about picking fights?? or to act holier-than-thou???? i do not do this. if you have witnessed ANY interaction i’ve had with a racially insensitive white person on the server, you will know this. 

i am simply a person of color trying to live my life. i do not want to fight about racism. i want to chill out and watch my cartoons. unfortunately, sometimes, someone will say something that i consider racially insensitive and i will do my best to engage and explain why i find this insensitive. that is all. (it is important to note that most of the time, when i see racially insensitive things on the server, i do not say anything because i am tired and it is a lot of effort to engage. i truly only engaged this time because nobody had replied to the message and i was just like, oh, fine, i guess i’ll educate, since no one else has!)

this whole incident has honestly made me really hurt and disrespected. i have enjoyed my time on the server and i have made some good friends there. however, it feels clearer and clearer to me that the server is a space where white feelings of safety (not being criticized for their racist content) are prioritized over poc’s feelings of safety (not having to witness and experience racist content). i sincerely considered myself to be an active and enthusiastic member of the server, maybe even friends with some of you, but it feels to me that all of our previous positive interactions have been displaced by this idea of me as an aggressive, overzealous purity cop who calls things racist for fun. 

i don’t even know how to repair my relationship with the server after this because i really do feel horrible and sick about the whole thing. i have spoken to other poc who also expressed their concerns about the way the mods handled the situation, even if these other poc weren’t directly involved, and some of us are considering leaving the server, if we haven’t already. (i would also like to note that these people reached out to me, unprompted, to make sure i was doing okay after what they and i interpreted as a micro-aggression by the mods. like, we independently read the situation in this way.)

(also, not sure if this matters, but i talked to SERVER MEMBER 3 the morning after the incident because i wanted to make sure he was okay, and we both ended up apologizing to each other and having a really good and productive talk.)

thanks again for reading this. i hope that you’ll be able to better understand my perspective on what occurred. i truly appreciate the work that you put into the server (especially as someone who also puts work into the server lol), and i know it’s difficult to mod a large server (i also mod an atla server!), but i continue to feel hurt about this. i know it’s hard to read tone over server messages, but i really wish that my (and SERVER MEMBER 4′s and SERVER MEMBER 5′s ) server messages had been read with greater compassion. 

...

and that’s all folks! i’m going to be remaking my blog soon, partially because this whole experience has exhausted me and partially because i have been meaning to anonymize my internet presence for some time.

[esseegg]

egg theory.

this occurred to me after i saw leaks from Ch. 290 of the My Hero Academia’s manga. it’s not really a theory, just speculation.

warning: contains manga spoilers, Dabi, the Todoroki family, and suicidal implications.

another warning: my thought process is very lengthy and a tad repetitive for the sake of evidence in reasoning. i also get a tad bit “Let’s see what’s in Dabi’s head today” at the end. writer instincts.

I don’t have any images of the manga to pull from, nor am I going to bother with grabbing them. This is more of a psychological analysis, anyways.

For those who’ve read the manga’s most recent chapters, or perhaps even stumbled upon manga snapshots of Dabi, we’ve all noted a few trends: Dabi’s uncharacteristic smile and his uncanny, ecstatic hysteria. At first, we believed this to be a result of potential grieving for Twice’s death and/or the anticipation of finally facing off with Endeavor (for the last time, per se) and/or the thought of seeing Endeavor finally being crushed by Shigaraki’s current rampage.

However, upon seeing Ch. 290′s leaks, I don’t quite believe in such speculations. If anything, these possibilities are not alone. In general, the leaks contain these things: a confession to his mother and the consequent reveal of his Todoroki identity to both his mother and his father.

Setting aside Rei for now, most people have interpreted these details as signs of a final showdown between Dabi and Endeavor. I don’t discredit this. That idiot can’t waltz in with that much drama and not expect a fight in his head.

My problem with all this is that, as we’ve noticed, this energy is entirely opposite of what usually defines Dabi. Dabi is stoic. Dabi is cold. Dabi is not one to go searching for the limelight. Granted, there are a few exceptions to this, but none alike Ch. 290. Here, and as of recent chapters, his carefree attitude is unhinged, fueled by a thrill, an anticipation, a blind excitement, and pure, raw joy.

Now, let’s factor in Rei again. Rei received the news in clearly a much calmer, civil, more sensitive format. You see his body language, and you can see that there is a tenderness in posture alone. He doesn’t even try to put up a front with his expression. It’s plain and simple: a broken, irreparable son giving the last sliver of good he can offer to his mother... The truth.

In summary, Dabi has displayed two things: the giving away of something precious (his identity, tied to his goals and crimes and ongoing life) and blind elation. Most interpret these things as a complex display of vengeance, built atop the foundation of a still human heart. Now.. I do believe the man has a heart. He is certainly human. But humans are scary sometimes.

I don’t think Dabi expects to live. I think he expects to die on that battlefield when he confronts his father. He might not expect to go any further than that. He gave some sort of solace to his mother (as nice as it might’ve been to think him dead, rather than a lost criminal), the possibly last precious person to him in this life.

When suicidal people have finally made the choice, the plans, the preparations for death, they become happy. It’s a misleading thing, actually. They give away what’s important to them, spend a little more time with whoever is most precious to them, then they move on.

I don’t believe that Dabi is looking to die. However, his life’s purpose, which he had been building up to for who knows how long, has finally fallen into place. Once he witnesses or reaches a certain point, I don’t think he will have any complaints about death. And that scares me.

Think about it. His acclaimed ideology is a replicate of Stain’s. Aside from hero society being absolute filth, he believes that if one person has the will for it, they can inflict the change they want to see in the world. And quite frankly? Dabi is very well-equipped for such a thing.

He is a confirmed Todoroki son, son to society’s Number One Hero. Endeavor’s career, fame, prosperity is all at its prime. In public, at least. And Dabi knows this.

Dabi is arguably a perfect candidate to change all that, to inflict the destruction on the world that is his father’s dream. It’s that very dream that chained Rei to Enji, that gave birth to four children, that gave three of those four children complete neglect from their father. That dream, as we all know, has finally been recognized. Without the children. Without the mother. All Endeavor needed was the fall of the great All Might. Now, Endeavor is at the top. And the only direction you can go, after you’ve reached the top, is down.

I wouldn’t put it past Dabi to label himself the manifestation of his father’s corruption and mistreatment of the family. After all, what’s more life-shattering than the Number One’s son turned criminal, killer, and conspirator against society itself? What’s more slandering than the knowledge that the son was not born this evil? That it’s the father’s fault for planting the seeds of long-awaited vengeance?

What’s better than the disgusting climb for morals and virtue, as your old man tries to cry out heartbreak over what you’ve become? What’s better than being the one to kill him? What’s better than forcing him to mayhaps kill you by his own hand? What’s better than letting him know that this is a part of his past, his regrets, his guilt and grief and self-loathing, that he’ll never be able to redeem, fix, and glorify? What’s better than maybe... exposing your old man for what he really is? 

Dabi doesn’t necessarily need to do it himself. He just needs to walk up on the stage that is the battlefield, wash his hair dye out, do a twirl, and reclaim the name he had left for dead. Shout it to the world. Go on monologues and maniac speeches for all the heroes to hear. Let them know what Endeavor’s done to his son, to his wife, to his children, to innocent people he didn’t view as humans, but as stepping stones to a dream he didn’t even attain with integrity.

It doesn’t matter who dies. It doesn’t matter who lives. As long as he gets to crush his father’s world, to inflict the change he always wanted to see... he’s happy. Truly, blindingly happy.

disclaimer: i have no idea what the leaks say, only that Dabi’s shirtless and a little dramatic. all my reasoning is based on recalled information, with no check for accuracy. i’m just scared that Dabi is going to canonly die, and the fandom will need to collectively feed itself with coping mechanism fanart and fanfics to pretend our burnt chicken nugget is still with us. have a nice day.

[authoressofdarkness]

Guide Me Safely To Shore

Only one thing ever made Tony Stark think twice about fulfilling his full potential. Two little words on the inside of his wrist, where his soulmark sits, ghostly, waiting for him to recognize his soulmate in some unredeemable way. He always knew he’d hurt them. But when he discovers his soulmate is none other than the feisty little Spiderling swinging around his streets, he realizes things are a lot worse than he ever could have thought.

Notes: So this just hit me in the middle of the night while reading fanfiction and avoiding hw the other night. I’ve got several ideas for it going forward, so this isn’t a one shot, but with midterms right around the corner I can promise nothing. Sorry. But I love you all and I’m hoping to get the next part out soon. <3 Enjoy, and I’d love to hear what you think!

This is unbetaed, so sorry for any mistakes.

Also, if anyone is interested, I realized while titling this that the song I took inspiration from is actually a lot more relevant to this story than I thought, and even more so the play itself. You can consider it the theme song for this story. The song is called “All That Matters,” from the Broadway cast of Finding Neverland. If you ever get the chance to see it, you most definitely should, or at least listen to the soundtrack. So listen to that if y’all get a chance, and do with that what you will.Okay, now enjoy! 💙

Only one thing in the world had made Tony think twice about fulfilling his full potential.

It wasn’t his friends. Or family — not that he really had any to speak of. Not his position at SI, not fear for his life, his work, his legacy, or anything of the sort.

It was the last thing someone would expect, honestly. Even for a man like Tony, an alpha with such power, who commanded such respect, had to have a soulmate. One he was expected to love, cherish, and yes, even a man like him craved that. He hadn’t met them yet, though, his soulmate, but the two words branding him, marking him with the words from his soulmate that will seal their bond, are there, have always been there, carefully hidden away from the public eye… and terrifying him in a deeper way than anything else could.

Please don’t.

Those two little words, branded onto his skin, reminding him every day of the horrors he may be wreaking on his soulmate without knowing it. There was no way to interpret them in a good light; and he knows that they mean, to some extent, he is going to hurt them.

And what’s worse, is that he hears them so often. People begging. It’s almost become part of his reason behind his cruel reputation — forcing people to beg, just to make them say it, just to make absolutely certain before he does something irreversible that it's not his soulmate he holds. Each time, he has to hold his breath, think about everything he’s ever done in that split second while he waits to see if hearing the words this time will change his life.

It’s the only thing that’s ever made him think twice about the things that he does. If there’s one person he doesn’t want to hurt, that he’d protect with his life at all costs, it’s his soulmate.

Yet he has no idea who it is, and the only thing he does know is he’s destined to fucking hurt them. Probably make them beg for their life before he realizes that they’re his soulmate. That he’s hurting his other half.

Most of the time he relishes the power, the fear and respect he gets from other people. But the idea of his soulmate being afraid of him just makes him sick to his stomach.

Tonight, the thoughts weigh heavy on his mind as he flies around the city in his suit.

In the years since he’s come to power — subtly, of course, then slowly less so — there had been little resistance from the masses. His influence is good for them, for the most part. It’s more peaceful than it’s been in years. Most people go about their lives business as usual. So long as they don’t challenge him.

Except there’s still a couple of people who challenge him.

The Avengers are, by far, the most pesky. But in recent times they’ve rather given up. There’s bigger problems in the rest of the world, still, and they can’t trick him or infiltrate him, can’t operate in secrecy the way they usually do. Tony is isolated — few friends, and none that would dare betray him, especially not after what happened to Obie. His company is firmly in his own hands, and his technology gives him virtually limitless access to information. He can see virtually anyone, anywhere, anytime he wants. There’s no way to hide from him. And what’s worse for them — he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. There’s nothing to expose when you’re honest from the start. He’s practically untouchable.

But… wait, did he say no way? That’s not… entirely true. He doesn’t know how, but someone has found a way around it.

Because there’s one person other than the Avengers that still bothers him.

Spider-Man.

He’d let him go for a while. It’s his own fault they’ve gotten so confident, if he’s being honest. Letting them run around and play vigilante. At first, they’d been a help, in truth — dragging in some of the street trash even he couldn’t control, and couldn’t be bothered to deal with personally. But then he’d started to get bolder. Bold enough to interfere with him. And while he couldn’t do any major damage, he sure was annoying.

Mostly because he was succeeding. In interrupting little things, at least. And, going back to his earlier thought, because he can’t fucking find him.

Whoever the guy is, he’s careful. Smart. Smart enough that Tony hasn’t been able to find basically any footage of him, anything to link Spider-Man with a normal persona. And he’s obviously just a normal person under the suit. He has to be. And there’s no way he lives in that thing all the time. Especially not with the way he’s avoided his detection so well.

He’s made all the harder to track by his erratic schedule. He can come out at night or during the day, every day for a month and not be seen again for a month the following days. The only consistency is that he tends to be out and about in the Queens borough. Even that is a wide enough area that he has a hard time using it to pin the man’s identity down. He’s narrowed it, certainly, but calculating the amount of people that could make it there every so many days, accounting for the inconsistent schedule and what it could mean, age, height, and hell, even gender — because really, all they would have to do is use a voice modulator and let people see what they wanted to for the rest — means that the number of suspects is still in the thousands.

Speaking of pinning the other man down…

He hopes to be able to do that tonight. He’s let the vigilante go unhindered for long enough. It was time for them to have a little talk. Preferably a short one. He’s tired and temperamental tonight. The day has been long, and all he really wants is someone to help bear the load, but… he can never be so vulnerable. Not with just anyone, particularly, and there’s no one he trusts around tonight. That’s part of the reason why he’d decided to come out and fly around.

That, and because he’d gotten a pretty reliable tip that Spider-Man was going to be out and about himself tonight. And they have some business to attend to.

He finds the vigilante, to his surprise, perched on the edge of the roof, legs swinging in the breeze, looking out over the city through his lense-covered eyes.

He descends from a distance, loudly enough there’s no way the other man doesn’t hear as he’s approaching. But he doesn’t move. In fact, Tony is surprised to hear it when he comes up behind him and he still hasn’t moved at all except to suddenly say, “I wondered how long it would take.”

“For what?” Tony can’t help himself; he bites, immediately, curious. Fascinated, he’d dare say. The confidence in his own abilities he must have to sound so calm, to stay put upon hearing him approach, is almost unbelievable. Either that, or he doubts his own ability to make a clean escape, and so didn’t bother. He’s not sure which option he prefers, but either way, this will be interesting.

“For you to come looking for me. Everything I’ve done to keep my identity a secret, I’m sure you’re dying to know by now.”

He says it so matter-of-fact, emotion undistinguishable in his voice. Tony tilts his head, unsure whether he should be impressed with his ability to sound so cool and self assured, or annoyed with the fact his assessment was correct.

It hardly matters. Part of the reason they had to have this chat in person was so that Tony could begin to work on figuring it out. The AI in his suit is no doubt already working on it. And he doesn’t sound like, for all his seeming self-assuredness, that he was smart enough to use a voice filter, so no doubt Jarvis is well on his way. Not that it would have stopped him, but it might have delayed the inevitable enough that he may actually have had a chance to escape this time before a verdict came in.

“I suppose you’ve got me there,” Tony finally says, after a long moment of deliberation. “I don’t suppose now that I’m here you’ll just tell me? I can go easier on you if you come quietly.”

Spider-Man lets out a bitter laugh and shakes his head. “Can. But you won’t. You could just let me go. But we both know you wouldn’t have come all the way out here just to do that.”

“Well you could go back to fighting low-level crime instead of infringing on my operations, couldn’t you?” Tony retorts. “And flattered as I am by your assessment of me-“ he can’t say much, as he’s not entirely wrong, “-I thought I’d at least give you a fair chance, first, before we go quite that far.”

“I don’t think your definition of fair chance and mine are the same.”

Tony ignores him, continuing on. “Go back to fighting your low level crime and having a good time and whatever else it is you do. Stop interfering with my operations. I’ll even give you my endorsement so the police won’t bother you.”

It’s a generous enough offer, all things considered, but the vigilante is having none of it.

He snorts. “Is that all you’ve got? Really? I expected some kind of bribe, at least.”

“Maybe if you show me you can keep your word, we could talk about it.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’m not giving you my word on anything.”

“Shame. Here I thought we’d make a good team.”

“In your dreams, Stark. Just because the Avengers have given into you doesn’t mean everyone else has.”

“That would be a dream, wouldn’t it?” Tony muses, then heaves a sigh. “Fine then. Have it your way.”

For a moment, neither of them move. Then, by some unspoken signal, Tony’s hand comes up, repulsor glowing red hot, just as Spider-Man shoots his first web.

The shot hits the web halfway, making them both disintegrate into thin air. Already moving, Tony flies up in the suit, only to feel a tug on his leg halting his upward momentum — a web. In the second it takes for his suit to disintegrate that one, as well, he’s being covered in more, the force of them pelting him back into the roof, feet sticking to the concrete and torso forced back against one of the light poles, sticky and irritating.

Of course he’d figured out a way to make it so the webs didn’t stick long to his suit as soon as the Spider-Man had made an appearance, but it wasn’t perfect, yet. Couldn’t be without the formula. So while he wasn’t pinned down for long, it’s just enough to get on his nerves.

Even more so because for all his big talk, he’s not actually fighting. Spider-Man pinned him down… and fled.

Well, that just wouldn’t do, would it?

Tony engages the full force of his throttles to just break through the webs faster, and gives chase. He can’t just let him get away with that, after all.

As he flies, he gives himself a minute to focus on the internal calculations flashing in front of his eyes. “How are we doing, Jarvis?”

“Nearly there, sir. Calculations based on body scan and public records have erased quite a few suspects. Cross referencing voice clips with all accessible video including the remaining suspects, but the sheer number is immense. I require a bit of time.”

“I’ve given you a bit of time. I need a name, Jarvis. Something for blackmail. I need to end this tonight.” He doesn’t have time for playing games with the Spider-Man, especially because he’s managed to disappear so effectively every time he tries to. He doesn’t know when he’ll find him again if he doesn’t tonight, and he has a lot of things happening in the near future he does not want messed with.

If he doesn’t find the information he needs, then this night isn’t going to end near as pleasantly as he’d hoped.

Spider-Man is fast, swinging through the city, but not fast enough to shake him. Especially not with his AI’s ability to analyze his every move and know where he’s going to turn next.

He lets him swing around for several minutes, pretending to give chase and hoping to tire him out. He has to just be waiting for him to get bored or lose sight of him so he can drop in somewhere and hide until he leaves or take off the suit to blend in with everyone else. Unfortunately for him, that trick isn’t going to work on him the way it probably does for normal people.

Tony just lets him swing around and tire himself out with him in hot pursuit, then, when he’s sure he has to be running out of energy — and webbing, he could hope — he flies up, into the clouds, dodging and weaving and utilizing his tech to keep an eye on the vigilante while staying out of his line of sight.

It works. Spider-Man drops onto a nearby roof, stumbling a little and bracing himself against a light pole. With a dangerous grin, Tony swoops down to meet him.

By the time he hears him coming and spins around, it’s too late. Tony closes the suit’s hand around his throat and flies him forcefully into the wall of the rooftop exit. Brick crumbles around his outline at the force of the impact, and the lenses of the suit go wide as he claws at his throat.

Almost at the same time as the impact, a picture flashes up in the visor of his helmet. “One almost perfect potential match, sir.”

For a second, Tony just stares at it. Looks through the analytics and double checks them. Then he laughs, unable to help himself. It’s just unbelievable enough that it explains so much. So young — hardly even a man. Spiderling, then, more so than Spider-Man. And even better — an omega. No wonder no one looked twice at this kid before as a potential threat.

He lets the helmet melt away, now, and looks down at the kid, grip around his throat tightening just a little as he watches him wheeze out a breath. His hand around Tony’s wrist is tight, tight enough his suit issues a warning, but not enough to actually dislodge his hand.

“So.” Tony tilts his head. “We meet again, Spiderling. Should probably stop doing that, hm?” He gets a strangled sound in answer, which is about all he could expect, really. He just shrugs. “Oh well. It’s not like it’ll happen much after tonight. Because I’m going to put an end to this, right here.” He leans forward, helmet reappearing— just in case he would do something like try to head butt him, because frankly, while it wouldn’t work, it would hurt — until their noses are almost brushing through their respective suits. “Last chance, Spiderling. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Are you gonna be a big boy about this or not?”

Tony releases his throat just enough for him to draw in a few breaths to answer. He holds his breath as the vigilante sucks in a few huge gulps of air before spitting out, “Go to hell, Stark.”

Tony just chuckles, clicking his tongue. “Oh, I will, I’m sure. But at this rate, you’re going to get there first.” He presses him a little harder against the wall, grip tightening again and ignoring the way the bits of brick and concrete pour down around them like rain. “I didn’t want to do this, kid, truly. But if you think I won’t kill you, you’re wrong. And if you think your loved ones won’t be targets if you don’t quit your shit, you’d also be wrong. I don’t like to be cruel, but I am what you make me, and I won’t stand for this any longer, Peter.”

The use of his name has a visible impact on the kid. He gasps, and his grip on his wrist tightens enough around the metal of his suit that it bends around his fingers and it actually hurts. Tony’s grip around his throat slackens a little automatically, and he frowns. It’s weird. It almost… burns? That’s not what a bruise or metal cut should feel like...

And then he hears it. The teen sucks in a breath, and in a broken, raspy whisper, gasps, “Please don’t...”

The effect is instantaneous. The slight burning in his wrist turns into a wildfire, like a brand, hot and burning and fuck does it hurt for that second. He responds automatically, jerking his hand back as if scalded, and watching almost in slow motion as the younger man crumples to the floor. It takes a moment longer than it probably should for him to realize exactly what’s happening, and then the suit melts off his body and he stares in horror as the color seems to settle in his soul words, now shining a bold black from where they sit on the inside of his left wrist.

Heart thundering in his chest, he stares for a long minute before snapping out of it and rushing to his side. He’s passed out, now, though from lack of oxygen or shock or what, he can’t be sure right now.

Carefully, so carefully, he tugs off his mask, both wanting to see his face for real and knowing he should see how bad the damage to his throat is. It catches him off guard at first, how gorgeous he is, and then how young, despite Jarvis already showing him both of those things earlier. He’s still marveling, though. Could this really be his soulmate? Oh, what is he going to do?

He forces the thoughts away for a moment, checking Peter’s throat. It’s ringed with finger-shaped bruises, but it doesn’t look too severe. He leans his head down, listening at his chest. Now that he’s got proper airflow back he doesn’t seem to be wheezing or otherwise struggling to breathe. So he should be fine.

Fine, physically, except for the fact that he’s Tony’s soulmate. That they’re branded together now, a link between their very souls keeping them from being able to end this in a way either of them would have imagined.

It’s funny. With how long he’d wanted this, he should be ecstatic. Instead he’s just… numb. A whole host of emotions rages inside him, and he can’t allow himself to acknowledge any of them until he figures out what to do.

For now, there’s only really one thing he can do. His soulmate is hurt, in more ways than one. He needs medical attention, to a certain extent, and they need to talk. Waiting around here until Peter wakes up isn’t going to be ideal for fixing either of those things.

So he bends down and scoops Peter up, cradling his unconscious form close to him. Then, with a tired sigh, he takes to the skies again, carrying them back towards the tower, glowing in the distance like a lighthouse in the sand, beckoning him to shore.

He has a feeling actually finding the shore is going to be a long time coming, but this is the first step he can take to finding it. He just hopes they’ll both be able to tread through these rough waters long enough to get there.

[officialleotolstoy]

Oh Dolokhov/Hélène Brainrot We’re Really In It Now, aka Dolokhov/Hélène playlist annotations!

I stole several songs from a playlist my friends have and I’m not gonna put those on this list, I won’t pretend I came up with those

The ship playlists (since they aren’t for canon couples) are very much based on my headcanons. We don’t get to see them interact literally ever so I’ve just extrapolated what I can. Several of these songs are at least alluding to sex, I don’t really think they actually slept together for various reasons I can enumerate if someone asks, but it’s more about the vibes of the song.

Casual Affair - Panic! At The Disco

It’s literally in the title. Bestie how much more explanation do you need? I don’t even like this song but it’s got the right energy

Those Nights - Bastille

“Aren’t we all just looking for a little bit of hope these days? Looking for somebody you can wake up with?”

Being drawn to each other because of mutual loneliness is a Thing in my interpretation of their relationship, and this hits the nail on the head.

But It’s Better If You Do - Panic! At The Disco

“Praying for love and paying in naïveté”

Again, mutual loneliness and desperation for anything resembling love. Also the “isn’t this exactly where you like me” bit fits because they won’t admit to liking each other outside of their weird intimate moments.

Hurricane - Panic! At The Disco

“Drop our anchors in a storm”

The circumstances of their lives arent super fun at the moment so they find refuge in each other but in a very weird kind of unhealthy way! “We are a hurricane” sort of alludes to knowing that you’re causing problems/your relationship isn’t great.

Almost (Sweet Music) - Hozier

“I’m almost me again, she’s almost you”

It’s about not really being In Love but kind of convincing yourself you are because it makes you feel better in the circumstances. I don’t think either of them were fully into their relationship for various reasons. Not as in they didn’t want the other, more that they were both too aware it would never work for long.

Hall & Oates - Satchmode

“I want to be in love again, with you”

This one’s about wanting the idea of love and companionship more than you actually like the other person, which I feel like kind of fits. This song is framed as one person in love with the other and one hesitating, but i think this works for both of them to hesitate.

Feel Something - Jaymes Young

“Touch me, someone, I’m too young to feel so numb”

The I have tried like six times and I can’t word why I think this song works. I don’t even like it, I skip it every time, but I think it’s got something to do with loneliness and desperation for love driving them to look for it in places they wouldn’t normally? Who knows. Send me an ask if u do.

Another Place - Bastille

“Don’t make promises to me that you’re gonna break”

They could never actually be together for SO many reasons and I think they’re both pretty aware of that. They have no desire to pretend that their relationship is anything other than what it is (“we only ever wanted one thing from this”).

When You Were Young - The Killers

“You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy to save you”

I do not think Hélène expected Dolokhkov to save her from anything except maybe monotony and loneliness, but this song slaps and if I can stretch the lyrics to work, I will

broken - lovelytheband

“I could be lonely with you”

Almost every song on here (including this one) is just. We’re messed up and I know we won’t really find love in each other but we might find solace for a while and be less lonely so uhhhhh wanna kiss me or what

Bleed Magic - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

“You stand up, stand up, before I drag you down”

They are NOT good for each other! Toxic relationships uwu

Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood

I believe in bi4bi Hélène/Dolokhov

Enemy Fire - Bea Miller

“Sweet words from a serpent’s tongue”

This song is kinda complicated and parts of it don’t fit but the energy of “everything sucks including you but at least we can hide from the suckiness together” is sorta there. Originally I just added it for the soldier vibes because I was testing out songs but I realized i can fit some of the lyrics so on the playlist it goes

Angel of the Small Death and the Codeine Scene - Hozier

“Her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean”

They are horrible and cold to each other as a love language. This song is essentially just “Wow my evil scary gf is so hot” and you’re right Fyodor. She is.

Shut Up and Dance - WALK THE MOON

I won’t lie this one’s mostly a joke, I just think the vibes of telling someone to shut up as (maybe because) you’re falling in love with them is Dolokhov/Hélène energy. Ignore all the parts about wanting to be with her forever and her being his destiny that is not why I added it.

Lone Ranger - Rachel Platten

“I’m just gonna leave, ‘cause baby I’m a lone ranger”

I do not think Dolokhov was intending to stay with her forever at all. Very rude of him. However, she probably also knew it wouldn’t last forever, she’s not stupid.

House of Memories - Panic! At The Disco

“Promise me a place in your house of memories”

This is very much post-duel, their relationship has fizzled out but it was pretty important (do I mean emotionally or to the plot? I’ll never tell) and deserves to be remembered.

American Beauty/American Psycho - Fall Out Boy

“I’m the best worst thing that hasn’t happened to you yet”

SO MANY of these lyrics are so good for them like. Hélène’s beautiful Dolokhov’s a psycho... “you take the full truth and you pour some out” can you imagine them being open and honest with each other? Yeah, me neither. “We were pity sex” They were just sad and lonely! That was what allowed anything to happen at all in my head (not sex but bear with me it’s not my fault those are the lyrics). “All those dirty thoughts of me, they were never yours to keep” because Hélène is married to someone else, they really have no right to think of each other that way.

Sk8er Boi - Avril Lavigne

“He wasn’t good enough for her”

UNIRONICALLY THIS SONG. Hélène’s complaints about Dolokhov staying with them are just the quoted lyric. “They had a problem with his baggy clothes” yeah Dolokhov’s not as rich and bougie and the rest of them and he’s certainly rough around the edges. And then the skater boy ending with a successful music career vs Dolokhov ending with a successful military career and a great reputation and both the women in the songs having sad endings...I’m not wrong.

Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet - Fall Out Boy

“Does your husband know the way that the sunshine gleams from your wedding band?”

The affair vibes. The AFFAIR VIBES. And the concept of “I will never end up like him [the husband]/ behind my back I already am” in reference to using Hélène and deciding he hates her right after deciding she’s hot...okay! I see you kinning Pierre, Dolokhov. You ARE being just like her husband :/

You Give Love A Bad Name - Bon Jovi

“Shot through the heart and you’re to blame”

This is just Dolokhov’s massive I Hate Women monologue condensed. Stop blaming beautiful women for YOUR attraction to them maybe 🔫

Death Valley - Fall Out Boy

“Don’t take love off the table yet”

This is not a table sex joke this is not a table sex joke this is not a table sex joke this is n-

I didnt add it for that reason it was about a vibe but then. I realized. Now the original reason doesn’t even matter.

Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner - Fall Out Boy

“I’ll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake”

Tell me the quoted lyric does not SCREAM Hélène/Dolokhov. You can’t. Also “I’ll weigh you down I’ll watch you choke/You look so good in blue” really captures hatred as a love language.

This is Love - Air Traffic Controller

Ok I stole this from my friends’ playlist but I did want to explain it because it’s not JUST Dolokhov and Hélène in my mind. The whole jealous fool second verse gives me Pierre around the duel energy as well

Bad Boy - Cascada

“Be my weekend lover but don’t be my friend”

Bernie Sanders voice I am once again asking you to hear me out about the unironic meme songs on my War and Peace character playlists. It’s got the refusal to admit that she actually likes hanging out with him down. The line “after some time you just pushed me aside” referring to Dolokhov teasing Pierre about their affair because he got bored. “I dont need you in my life again”...YEAH I’m fairly sure they dont interact in canon again after that.

Hayloft - Mother Mother

“My daddy’s got a gun”

This song started playing on accident once when I was listening to this playlist and I was like huh. It fits though. The gun thing is twofold: 1) Though he is not her father, Pierre does have a gun in the duel and 2) I think Vassily would happily shoot Dolokhov for his relationships with Vassily’s kids. It’s also just the general forbidden love vibes mixed with the violence vibes.

affection - BETWEEN FRIENDS

“I’m looking for affection in all the wrong places and we’ll keep falling on each other to fill the empty spaces”

Have I been clear enough about my thesis that their relationship is based in mutual loneliness? Also, I like the acknowledgment that this is in fact the wrong place. I think they’re both very aware of that.

Walk Away - Franz Ferdinand

“Yes I’m cold but not as cold as you are”

This song is for them post-duel. Especially the “I cannot stand to see those eyes as apologies may rise/I must be strong, stay an unbeliever” because 1) I hear the word eyes, I think of Dolokhov and 2) I think she’s too smart to believe any apology he would give her, she knows he doesn’t really mean it. The song kinda reads as someone trying to convince themselves they’re happy that the relationship is over, which I think is definitely what happens for both of them.

Van Horn - Saint Motel

“Tell me do you hate me? Or do you wanna date me?”

Obsessed with the dynamic of “I like you but that’s embarrassing for both of us I’m gonna act like I hate you instead”

[five-rivers]

In the House of Hours

Based on a prompt by @currentlylurking! Well, two prompts, technically.  You know how it goes.

.

.

.

In the House of Hours

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In the first hour, he was introduced to his masters. They had made him. He existed by their grace. He was to obey them, always.

They showed him his tasks, his tools, his home.

He was never to leave, except to solve a paradox. He was never to interfere with the timeline, except by their orders, or to prevent it from crumbling. He was to guard the prison below.

The staff could become a scythe. The mirrors could see through time. The medallions on the shelf, medallions that they wore, under their robes (he could tell, thought he didn't know how), exempted others from his ability to manipulate time, and allowed them passage through the mirrors.

His home was a tower, full of ticking.

They did not answer his questions. They did not tell him his name. They left before the hour was out.

He didn't like his masters very much.

.

In the second hour, he discovered trying to stop his body from changing made him sick.

.

In the third hour, he found a mirror that was just a mirror, and discovered his reflection. He examined himself. Clockwork insides, looping ghostly tail, blue skin, red eyes, a face that kept flicking through ages, always older or younger than when he had last looked. He liked his clothing. It was purple. The words that came to him, he knew, but he did not know where they came from. He didn't know he knew them until they passed his mind.

Everything was new. He was new.

He had a scar over one of his eyes.

Why did something as new as him have a scar?

.

In the fourth hour, he discovered that trying to look back at his own timeline made him sick.

.

In the fifth hour, he found the library. He read the dictionaries and encyclopedias, then moved on to the other books. He greedily kept all the words to himself. He knew things, now. More than his masters told him.

He couldn't help but notice, there were no stories in his library, and there were large empty spots on his shelves, free even of the lightest coating of dust. His encyclopedias had mentioned stories.

He wondered where they were.

.

In the sixth hour, he felt himself pulled to his mirrors. There was a paradox. A knot in reality.

This was his first task. What he had been made for. The thrill that went through him was immense, indescribable.

He worked the knot apart with gloved hands, his tail lashing back and forth. He knew how best to unwind the strings of time, what tools to use, how long each step should take.

It was so odd, to have been created with that knowledge, but it all felt so right. Like he had done it a thousand times before.

When he was done, he sank to the floor of the mirror room, drained. He almost wanted another paradox to happen, even though that would be bad for the timeline.

A dreamy smile came to his lips as he shifted from old to young. The timeline. It was his job to keep it safe. To keep it healthy. He already loved it, sitting here. It was more than worth enduring masters who didn't even give him a name.

Didn't even give him their names, come to think of it.

.

In the seventh hour, there was a knock on the door. He drifted towards it, curious. His masters had left through that door. Had they come back? Perhaps they had forgotten something.

Such as his name.

He played with the door handles, unsure if he should open them. His masters had said not to leave. Opening the doors didn't count, did it?

He pulled on the handles, frowned, and then pushed.

His masters weren't there. Instead, a small... boy. Yes, a boy. A small boy floated there. A ghost. His white hair was in disarray, and tears streaked his face. He held a thick, glowing book to his chest.

"Clockwork?" the child asked, his voice wavering.

"What about it?" he asked, endeavoring to be polite despite his confusion. Strange though this child may have been, he was still the first person he had met other than his masters. He was curious.

Perhaps the child was asking about- "My appearance? Or the tower?"

The child's lips wavered. His eyes went shiny, the green light in them glinting off tears gathering at their lower lids. Then his small round face crumpled, and he burst into tears, whole body trembling.

This was evidently the wrong thing to say.

He froze, uncertain how to handle this. Futures lay before him, but he couldn't interpret them. There were too many.

There had been no books on how to handle children, ghost or otherwise, in his library, a horrific oversight if he was expected to deal with this kind of a situation on his first day of existence. He made a note to correct that on his first opportunity.

He almost reached out, some deep instinct reacting to the child's distress, but stopped, remembering the admonition not to leave without permission.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked instead. His first guest. It could be worse.

At the invitation, the child practically flung himself at him, and clung to him with one arm, the other still wrapped around the book, sobbing.

"Clockwork," he said, "I'm so, so sorry."

"Ah," was the only response he could come up with. He attempted to gently pry the child off. He had no idea how much force children could endure without breaking. In fact, he wasn't sure how much force an adult ghost could endure without breaking. Or, perhaps more to the point, how much force he could apply. It hadn't come up yet.

"Clockwork is-" said the child, speaking into his robe and doubtless getting all kinds of slime on it. "Clockwork is your name. The Observants didn't tell you?"

"Who?" The name was rather fitting. A bit childish, perhaps, but fitting. He was made of clockwork, after all.

The child shuddered and looked up, eyes burning. "They didn't tell you?"

"Other than my makers, you are the first being I have met," he said. "I do not know what 'they' you are referring to. Furthermore, I do not know who you are, and cannot imagine how you know me, as I have not existed for fewer than seven hours."

"That's not true," insisted the child, voice wavering but somehow also furious. "That's a lie."

He was growing somewhat annoyed, now. Who was this child, to barge into his home, cry on him, and then call him a liar?

Before he could begin to take the child to task, he thrust out the book he was holding, pushing it into his chest so that it rubbed against the clock case in it. Reflexively, he took it.

"This," said the child. "This has everything you need to know. At least," the child wilted. "That's what you said before." He choked back a sob. "This is all my fault, and I hope- I hope you'll forgive me, when you're done reading it. I- I should go." He backed away, then turned and fled, zooming into the distance.

Clockwork watched him go. He seemed rather fast for such a small ghost.

.

In the eighth hour, he read the book.

He read the book.

He read the book.

He read the book.

He read the book.

He read the book.

,,,

Daniel has been pestering me about my history, lately. He seems to be under the impression that I am concealing some sort of tale of adventure that he wants to 'unlock.' That I did 'daring deeds' in my 'youth.' I have attempted to explain to Daniel that I never had a youth, but he is, as ever, impervious to reason.

,,,

I have resorted to telling Daniel that knowledge of my past is dangerous. However, as I could not reveal the nature of the danger without triggering it, Daniel did not believe me, and only became more determined to find out my 'dark and tragic backstory.' My backstory, as it were, is neither dark nor tragic, and, in any case, is none of his business.

I told him this.

We have had something of a falling out. I can only hope that this is not the end of our relationship. My sight is often inaccurate when it comes to Daniel.

,,,

Daniel has relented. Perhaps I should not be so surprised. Like any ghost, he can grab on to an idea and refuse to release it, but he has always been attentive to the needs of others. It is one of his most admirable qualities.

But all this talk of history has given me the urge to refresh my memories. I shall visit the old books tomorrow.

,,,

Daniel knows.

Curse my carelessness and his curiosity, but he knows. I should not have left this book exposed on my desk when he is known to visit at all hours.

He has sworn not to tell. I can only hope it will be enough. But it was not enough for those who came before me, and none of us have ever known why.

,,,

They know.

Daniel and his friends have devised a rather clever plan on my behalf, one that I would not have considered on my own. Perhaps I am too resigned to my fate, too eager to submit, the weight of those who have come before me and failed pressing down on my shoulders. Perhaps I should have hope.

,,,

It didn't work. Rather, it did, in all particulars but the one I failed to foresee. They have taken Daniel. They will kill him, if I do not come.

,,,

Daniel, I have put this book where you might find it, so that you will bring it to the version of the Master of Time that comes after me. Consider it a final request on my part.

Be reassured that this is inevitable. I have, after all, never escaped being reset to my initial state once the Observants have set their mind on it. I do not blame you. I could never blame you. Over our acquaintance, I have come to value you as my closest friend. Even, as a son.

I cannot say the same for my 'blank' version. I did not react well to this revelation in the past, although, presumably, you will get this book to him in a period of time shorter than a hundred years. Still, I advise you not to linger.

With all the love an automaton such as myself can express, I wish you well, Daniel.

-Clockwork, Master of Time

,,,

Clockwork tilted his head back and screamed, because he knew exactly what had been taken from him and why.

He read the book again.

.

In the ninth hour, he looked for the other books, the books his... former self had mentioned, the ones he had learned from. He practically tore the tower (Long Now. The tower had a name. Long Now.) to shreds in his need.

They weren't there.

He went to his mirrors, looking for them through time. They were hidden in far away places. Out of the tower, out of his reach.

Unless he broke the rules.

.

In the tenth hour, he broke the rules. He gathered up the books and more. He found a letter, on fresh, white paper.

,,,

To my later self,

Now that you have read the records of our past incarnations, you have perhaps noticed a disturbing trend. When another learns of my history, I am wiped clean, made into a blank slate. But the one who learned vanishes entirely, without fail, no more than a week after my memories are removed.

I know what this means for Daniel. You do, too.

Whatever animosity you bear him, I beg you, do not let them destroy him.

-Clockwork, Master of Time

.

In the eleventh hour, he searched for the boy, Daniel, through the time windows. He did not experience the animosity his former self seemed to expect, but neither did he feel the obvious affection he had had for the young ghost.

This frustrated him. No, it angered him. It infuriated him.

How dare his 'masters' steal his history and then pretend to have made him? How dare they steal his connections, his relationships to others, his name?

He remembered fewer than eleven hours, and he had been so lonely. He hadn't even realized it until he read the books. He was still lonely.

The mirrors seemed to stare at him, like the eyes of his masters, mocking him for being unable to find his past self's child.

There.

.

As the twelfth hour struck, he reached through the mirror, and pulled the child into his arms.

The child struggled, at first, understandably. Clockwork hadn't given him any warning, and he had been in a rather brutal fight. Twenty against one was not a fair fight by any stretch of the imagination, and, while Clockwork's knowledge concerning children was limited, he had absorbed the fact that children were generally weaker than their adult counterparts and also that the general sentiment was that children should be protected.

As soon as Daniel noticed that it was Clockwork holding him, he went limp, large green eyes blinking up at him, as though dazed. Perhaps, he truly was dazed. He was injured in a number of locations, the most apparent being a thickly weeping gash over his left eye.

"Clockwork?" he asked, voice thin.

Clockwork felt faintly ill. The boy's opponents had been his masters. They would know what Clockwork had done. They would be coming. Would they make him forget, again?

"Clockwork?" repeated the boy, shaking his arm. "Are you okay?"

Clockwork stopped time.

No one had asked him that, before. His masters certainly hadn't, when they had woken him.

He shuddered, holding the child close, and made a decision. This child had belonged to his previous self, as far as he understood such things. As he was, in most ways, the same entity as his previous self, or at least his heir, that meant this child belonged to him.

His child.

No, he would not let his masters take Daniel. He would not let them destroy him, the only thing he could truly say was his.

But his masters could move through time, just as he could. They would be here soon, to take and punish. The loss of these last several hours would not be great, compared to the others he had suffered. He would find the books again, eventually. But the loss of Daniel?

That was untenable. Daniel had to be preserved.

He opened the door that led to the prison nestled in the roots of Long Now, and flew straight down the stairwell, eschewing the stairs. There were monsters kept down here. Horrors frozen in time, turned into vapor, and sealed in the foot-deep, hands-breadth-wide honeycomb cells in the walls, never to be released. Things that were simply wrong. Their crimes were listed on neat little cards outside their individual cells.

Core buzzing, Clockwork pressed Daniel's hand to the mouth of an empty cell, activating it. As the temporally-frozen child was absorbed, the opening automatically sealed itself.

There. Safe.

With trembling hands, Clockwork filled out a card with an explanation of Daniel's crime. Defying the High Council of Observants. If the patterns in his old journals held true, he would eventually grow to despise the Observants. Even if it took a year, ten years, a hundred, a thousand, one day he would question his 'makers.' One day he would become curious enough to open a prison labeled like this.

He wrote something entirely different on the back of the card before he affixed it to the front of Daniel's prison.

.

In the thirteenth hour, the Observants came, carrying Clockwork's key.

As they pushed it into the hole in his back, they told him how they always knew when someone discovered his weakness. Eventually, inevitably, that person would try to steal it, and the Observants kept a very close eye on the future of the key to prevent such an event.

Two months from now, Daniel would have tried to steal the key.

He would have given it to him.

They couldn't have that.

Like always, Clockwork forgot.

.

In the first hour, he was introduced to his masters. They had made him. He existed by their grace. He was to obey them, always.

They showed him his tasks, his tools, his home.

He was never to leave, except to solve a paradox. He was never to interfere with the timeline, except by their orders, or to prevent it from crumbling. He was to guard the prison below.

The staff could become a scythe. The mirrors could see through time. The medallions on the shelf, medallions that they wore, under their robes (he could tell, thought he didn't know how), exempted others from his ability to manipulate time, and allowed them passage through the mirrors.

His home was a tower, full of ticking.

They did not answer his questions. They did not tell him his name. They left before the hour was out.

He didn't like his masters very much.

.

In the nine hundred and two thousand, two hundred and ninety ninth hour, Clockwork ached. He had ached for a long time, though for what, he did not know. The ache echoed in the hollow spaces inside his chest, and sometimes he wondered if the ache was, in fact, a longing. A yearning. He had seen it in others.

But what would a creature like him long for?

He had a home, a purpose, time for leisure, all the luxuries he could dream up. Shouldn't that be enough?

Well. Freedom would be nice. Not having to obey the Observants, carry out their version of the timeline... that would be good. There were just so many better versions of future history, so many more elegant solutions to problems. Wars he could have stopped. Happy endings he could have facilitated.

Wouldn't it be better, to maximize happiness in the timeline? Or at least to maximize freedom of choice?

He thought about all the tragedies he could have avoided simply by solving a paradox or world-ending disaster in a different way than the Observants had insisted on.

Sometimes, he hated the Observants.

.

In the nine hundred and two thousand, eight hundred and seventy first hour, he idly looked through the Infinite Realms with one of his viewing mirrors. He had time, he always had time, and he was bored.

The Infinite Realms were, by their nature, infinite, with infinite variety. Even Clockwork had not seen, and could never see, all of them. There were an uncountable number of wonders out among the ectoplasmic mists.

But Clockwork was feeling melancholy, so he was looking at more mundane sights, closer to home, flying the perspective of the mirror across flying islands and through caves, pretending he was the one making the flight.

He spiraled through a cave and- Wait a moment. He pulled the perspective back. There was a neat little library tucked into the corner of the cave. He zoomed in, curious, then he startled, so hard his chest clock missed a tick. That was a hard thing to do. He was over a hundred years old.

The books had his symbol on them.

.

In the nine hundred and three thousand and twelfth hour, he finally gathered up the courage to break the rules, leave Long Now, and go look at the books. In all this time, he had never set foot outside his tower.

The journey was exhilarating. Partially because of how swiftly he was going. He didn't foresee the Observants visiting, but he couldn't always see them clearly. But as for the rest...

There was just something different about doing this in person, in feeling the ectoplasm on his face, in being able to turn his head and see, well, not everything, but it felt like more than he could see through his mirrors.

He found the cave quickly enough, as well he should. He had used his mirrors to map out the very route he had taken dozens, if not hundreds, of times before actually taking the dive and going. Or, now that he was here, should he say coming?

He was almost giddy.

Some of that faded when he laid eyes on the books again. Why would there be books out here with his symbol on them? It felt ominous.

He read the books.

He read the books.

He read them again...

.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and seventh hour, Clockwork went down to the prison. After reading the most recent of the journals, and then, of course, recording his own and adding it to the collection, he had decided to oppose the Observants.

True, he didn't dare do so openly. He didn't want to be erased, but he had some leeway to make things more difficult for them. He could make some of those decisions, those alterations to the timeline, that they had warned him off of. Perhaps he could even, at first, pretend that they were mistakes.

But, first things first. If he was going to defy the Observants, it would be useful to speak to someone who had done so before, and so successfully that the Observants felt the need to imprison them here.

He wondered, what would they be like? A warrior, perhaps? A politician? A scholar?

Would they even want to help him? He understood that so much time spent in the honeycomb prisons could be... difficult.

Or would they be evil? Would they fight him? In his time, he had imprisoned more than one utterly foul villain down below.

Rarely did he wish so fervently to be able to look at his own personal timeline.

But he had to take the risk. If he understood that last journal correctly, the Observants had destroyed his son. His surrogate son, to be sure, but still. For ghosts, that was good enough. At least, Clockwork could find no sign of Daniel in the time after his 'reset.'

He'd never had a chance to fulfill his immediate predecessor's final request.

Clockwork imagined what it would be like, to have a child. To have family. He had seen humans and ghosts with such things, such people. They weren't always happy, but Clockwork couldn't help but wonder if having one would have filled the constant ache inside him.

But there was no more time for musing on what could have been. He was in front of the prison, looking down at the label that said, Defying the High Council of Observants.

He reached out and deactivated the seal.

Vapor poured out, and slowly, sluggishly, began to form into a ghost. A rather small, slender ghost. Its- His head barely came up to Clockwork's shoulders.

This child had defied the Observants?

Almost as soon as the last bit of vapor condensed, the ghost collapsed. Clockwork caught him before he hit the floor, and he squirmed in his arms, twisting to latch onto Clockwork's robes. He made small mumbling noises, too confused and slurred to count as speech.

Behind him, the label card fluttered to the floor, and, for the first time, Clockwork noticed that there was writing on the other side. He summoned it to him with a touch of telekinesis.

The reverse side of the card read Daniel, son of Clockwork.

.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and eighth hour, Clockwork carried the smaller ghost up the stairs. He, Daniel, was obviously in a bit of shock after being in the cell for so long. Not having a body, among the other effects of the prison, could remove a ghost's sense of time and self, and wear away at things like motor control and the ability to speak.

At least, that's what his past selves had recounted. He had never had the opportunity or reason to release a prisoner before.

He tried to put the little ghost down, but Daniel was insistent on staying attached, burying his head in the crook of Clockwork's neck. Finally, however, he dozed off and became human. Which was something he did.

Well. When he woke up, he could tell Clockwork how he had found himself in Long Now's prison.

.

As of the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and sixtieth hour, Daniel had yet to do anything of the sort.

What he did do was look up at Clockwork with large, trusting eyes, cuddle, eat, sleep, and make soft, indistinct almost-speech noises. It filled the aching emptiness inside Clockwork, but also made him worried. Had the time in the prison broken Daniel in some way?

But how could Clockwork fix him?

The best Clockwork could do was provide for Daniel's needs and hold him, letting his core hum him to sleep.

.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and ninety fifth hour, Clockwork became convinced Daniel was shrinking. Becoming softer, slightly more rounded.

Younger?

He was right.

.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and tenth hour, Clockwork stopped dithering and made plans to take him to a doctor.

Daniel had had interactions with the Far Frozen before. Positive interactions. For that matter, they still worshiped him. Literally. Even if they did think he had been ended.

Better, they had Daniel's old medical files. If anyone could tell what was wrong, they could.

He bundled Daniel up in heavy, insulating clothing, unsure how his human body would handle the cold, and wrapped him in his cloak. Danny giggled and mumbled the whole time and, as soon as Clockwork finished, promptly fell asleep.

Clockwork, rather daringly, chose to travel to the Far Frozen via mirror. It was faster, that way.

Rather than first registering the cold, Clockwork was struck by how brilliantly, blindingly white the Far Frozen was. The view through the mirror hadn't done it justice.

Nor had it done justice to how large the yetis were. Or the size of their warriors' spears.

"Who are you?" demanded one of them, while others scurried around. "Why have come here?"

"It is my understanding that your tribe prides itself on its medical knowledge," said Clockwork.

"You're here for treatment?" asked the yeti, warily.

"Not for myself," said Clockwork, revealing Daniel's bundled form.

The yeti gasped. "Great One!"

.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and eleventh hour, Clockwork learned about jealousy. He had never truly been jealous before, but now... Now he could say with certainty that he was, and he hated it.

He hated more that Daniel was favoring Frostbite with that trusting, open look of his. He hated that Frostbite remembered Daniel, and he, Clockwork, only had written recollections.

Daniel was his, not Frostbite's.

But he forced himself to watch the examination and Daniel's interactions with the other ghost dispassionately. This was about finding out what was wrong with Daniel and healing him, not Clockwork's petty and, frankly, shameful feelings.

Frostbite gave Daniel a lollipop and tucked a thick blanket around his shoulders before walking over to Clockwork.

"Do you know what happened to him?" asked Frostbite.

"Not precisely," said Clockwork. "I found him in a vapor prison."

Frostbite grumbled, almost growled, deep in his chest. "That would explain certain things. To be trapped without a body for so long..." Frostbite shook his head. "His currently state is something of a defense mechanism. To protect his mind, both the human and ghostly sides of it, he turned off everything but base instincts. Some of it has started to recover, but certain aspects of it are being rewritten, as he adapts to his new situation."

"Rewritten?" asked Clockwork, hiding his anxiety. If Daniel could not remember, Clockwork could not ask him what had happened. If Daniel did not remember, he would be cursed in the same way as Clockwork. "Why? For what reason?"

Frostbite fixed Clockwork with a yellow stare. "He has bonded with you," said Frostbite. "Accepted you as a parent. He is instinctively altering himself to better fit that role. Some of those alterations are disrupting or recycling dormant structures in his core, which in turn affects his human brain."

"Ah," said Clockwork. "Is there any way to," he made a small, abortive gesture, "let him be himself again? Wake up those structures, those memories? Before more are destroyed."

"Yes," said Frostbite. "But it may be kinder to let him forget."

"What do you mean?" asked Clockwork, irritated. He knew what forgetting was like. It wasn't kind.

"He has been gone for a long time," said Frostbite. "His human family and friends..." he sighed. "Humans do not live that long, and he was very attached to them. They will be dead by now, and I have not heard of them becoming ghosts."

Clockwork worried at his gloves. Yes, that matched with what he had read in his predecessor's journal. He had taken a look at the fates of the residents of Amity Park after Daniel's disappearance. They had not been universally pleasant. The city itself had been abandoned shortly after, except for attempts to close the Fenton Portal and prevent ghosts from escaping into nearby areas.

"It should be his decision, whether to remember or forget," said Clockwork. "He needs all the relevant information, and all his wits. Should he wish to forget afterwards, I will take him to the Lethe." He wasn't being selfish with this. He wouldn't even ask Daniel about his former self before asking after his decision.

Frostbite nodded. "Let's get to it, then."

.

Daniel woke again in the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and twenty second hour.

Clockwork had been working himself into a sort of numb panic when it happened, worrying about whether or not the the Observants would try to visit him in Long Now and find him gone, worrying about when Daniel would wake, worrying about what Daniel would know, and how to break the news that his family was dead to him.

But seeing Daniel's eyes fluttering open eased some of those worries.

"Clockwork?" he mumbled, reaching for the edge of Clockwork's cloak.

"I am here, Daniel," said Clockwork, taking his hand.

"What happened?" asked Daniel, his words slurring slightly.

"I am afraid I do not remember," said Clockwork.

Daniel's features twisted in distress. "They made you forget again?" he asked, the last word a whine. "That's not fair."

"What do you remember, Daniel?"

"I remember- I remember you pulling me away from the Observants," he said. "Through the mirror, I mean. They were going to kill me, they said. Because I knew about your key, and I was going to try to steal it, they said." He shuddered. "I was losing. They really were going to do it."

"I pulled you through?"

"Mhm," said Daniel. "I was surprised, because I thought you'd be mad at me, after I gave you the book. The journal, I mean. Because you forgot everything, and it was my fault." Daniel's eyes glittered with water.

"I don't blame you," said Clockwork. "You got the book to me?"

"Yeah," said Daniel.

This suggested that there was a short-lived version of himself between the author of the last journal and his own first memory. One who hadn't a chance to write a record of himself, one who had saved Daniel from the Observants, and sealed him into the honeycomb prison.

"And after that?"

"Mm. After that... It was like being in the Fenton Thermos, I guess? It was all fuzzy. Fuzzier. And the inside was different, I think. I don't know. I couldn't get out. And then I was with you? But it was like a dream."

"You were with me," said Clockwork.

"Oh, that's good," said Daniel. "Was I in the thermos? Is that how you hid me from the Observants?"

"You were in a similar object," said Clockwork. "Daniel, I must warn you, because the Observants removed my memory of hiding you, you were in it for quite some time."

"Days?" asked Daniel, eyebrows knitting in concern. "I guess I'll have to come up with a really good excuse for Mom and Dad. Unless you can send me back through time? Or maybe not, if the Observants are still looking for me."

"It was significantly longer than that," said Clockwork.

"Weeks?"

Clockwork shook his head. Daniel struggled to prop himself in a sitting position on the bed.

"Months?" he whispered.

"Daniel, it has been over one hundred and three years."

The boy gasped and fell back. Clockwork could hear the steady rhythm of his heart and core jumble momentarily."

"One hundred and three?" he asked, voice almost inaudible, even to Clockwork. "They're all dead, aren't they? Everyone I knew."

"With the exception of Plasmius, I am afraid so."

"Of course that fruitloop would survive. I-" Daniel choked back a sob.

Clockwork, uncertainly, patted Daniel's shoulder. Daniel rolled over onto Clockwork's arm and cried into it. "Can you send me back?" he asked. "Please?"

"The Observants would find you," said Clockwork, "and you aren't from that time anymore. You would have to wear a time medallion constantly."

"I could phase it into myself," said Daniel, pulling himself up Clockwork's arm. "That's what Dan did. I won't become Dan, will I?" Daniel's eyes were wide and wild. "You have to send me back. I don't want to become Dan."

"You won't," soothed Clockwork, pulling Daniel into his lap. He only knew of Dan through the journal. He couldn't see a ghost like that in any future. He began to rub circles into Daniel's back, just above his core. "Don't worry, I'll make sure of it." He tried to send out comforting pulses with his core. He had read extensively on the subject of ghost children since he had found Daniel, but that didn't mean he had any experience, or confidence, with them as of yet.

"Will you send me back?" asked Daniel, weakly.

"I can't," said Clockwork. "But if you want, I can help you forget. There is a river-"

"I don't want to forget," said Daniel.

That was that.

.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and fifty eighth hour, they went home.

Before they left, Frostbite stopped Clockwork. "The Great One will keep changing," he said.

"I thought you fixed that," said Clockwork, watching as the small boy raised his hands to the sky to catch snowflakes.

"There was nothing to fix," said Frostbite. "The changes are natural. A child's ability to adapt is beneficial. The only issue was that they were blindly destroying inactive parts of himself." He paused. "He may come to forget his past, naturally. He may experience further changes to his appearance, personality, or powers. Take care of him."

"I intend to," said Clockwork.

.

In the nine hundred and fifteen thousand, two hundred and third hour, Daniel finally stabilized.

In either form, he looked about ten, slender, gentle, and quiet. His eyes were, perhaps, a touch larger than a human would find natural, and his canines came to sharp, sweet points. He wore robes like Clockwork's, now, purple as a human, and silver and black as a ghost.

He told jokes frequently, but quietly, and could hide so well that even Clockwork couldn't find him, even when looking through time. When Clockwork worked on paradoxes, he stood by the table and watched, quietly, always knowing which tool to hand Clockwork, often before Clockwork even realized he would need it. He loved to read the astronomy books in the library. He loved training his many powers with Clockwork.

He was different from the Daniel the journal had described and yet, somehow, exactly the same.

Clockwork loved him so much. If the Observants ever found out about him-

But they didn't. Daniel hid every time the Observants even came close to Long Now. And that was fine.

.

In the nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, eight hundred and first hour, someone else found out about the key.

The Observants saw this.

.

In the one millionth hour, the Observants came for Clockwork, bearing his key.

They did not see Daniel, lying in wait for them.

Very soon they did not see anything at all.

(After all, Daniel had once defeated Pariah Dark in single combat.)

.

Clockwork picked his key up from the ground and walked to Daniel, putting an arm around his small, trembling shoulders.

"I'm sorry about making a mess," said Daniel, prodding a slowly-melting glob of ecotplasm with one bare foot.

"Don't worry," said Clockwork, turning the key over in his fingers, marveling at what it felt like to finally be free. "We'll clean it up in no time at all."

.

.

.

This was supposed to end either with Clockwork's memory getting wiped again, or with new Clockwork finding Danny, but my brain wouldn't let me stop. I'm sorry. Hope my gimmick here didn't bother anyone too much.