#'i want to heal her forced to bear the fate of her brother but she's the one healing hector' :(

[beevean]

Castlevania: Curse of Darkness

Sarabande of Healing

[gumnut-logic]

Cethair (Bit 3)

Óen | Cethair - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3

Glossary (contains backstory spoilers)

This is going ever so slowly, but here, have some more.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Virgil’s heart was weeping.

With both grief and terror.

The night air was bone cold and sucked the heat from his body through the many layers he had piled on, but fortunately the wind had died down leaving the darkness calm.

Dá’s massive wing strokes were reassuring in their steady strength as she supported her glide towards the beaches.

On their left, Scott was silent and almost invisible in the dark. Óen’s flight was ever silent, the lack of moon leaving the frail starlight inadequate to outline the night fury.

His brother shouldn’t be here. He should be in bed. But Virgil didn’t bother to waste his breath because he knew that Scott had to be there.

They all had to be there, for good or ill.

This was why John on Cóic, equally silent on his right, held young Alan, dressed in warm flight leathers far too big for him. Unlike Óen, Cóic caught all the starlight and reflected it back into the night, every feather glittering, her vast wings dwarfing both Dá and Óen.

But it was Virgil and Dá who carried the most precious and fragile burden.

Gordon was wrapped in healer’s cloth and sheep’s skin, strapped to Virgil’s strength. In the darkness, his mortally wounded little brother was more ghost than alive.

Virgil treasured every breath against his neck. There was terror that Gordon wouldn’t make it to the beaches. There was terror that he would.

There was no changing Scott’s mind. The injured and newly made Flaithri was steadfast and willing to do anything to save their little brother. John had been reassuring, Cóic warbling encouragement to Virgil at his questions.

There had been an answer. One of the sea had answered and it was wildly appropriate and felt determined by fate considering Gordon’s love of the water.

But the sacrifice was an unknown that terrified Virgil. A dragon willing to give its life force to heal another was fantastic myth and made a great story around the evening fires. But those myths all ended in tragedy and loss.

But what choice did they have?

Scott’s voice had been pain itself.

Dá warbled quietly and banked to the right, gliding down towards the waves. She back-winged ever so elegantly and touched down softly on fine pebbles.

The sea hissed at them.

Cóic landed at a distance, giving them room, while Óen did the opposite, expertly diving in close, likely to save his rider from walking too far.

Virgil and Óen had a long-standing agreement where the dragon’s rider was concerned, and Virgil couldn’t help but love the night fury for it.

So, of course, it was Scott who reached up to help Virgil dismount with his burden.

Virgil grit his teeth but didn’t say anything. He did his best to not place strain on his eldest brother, yet dismount without hurting his cherished burden.

Fortunately, John soon arrived, taking over from their limping brother.

The slice in Scott’s thigh was the only reason he wasn’t holding Gordon. Every screwed up muscle in the man’s face begged to bear his little brother’s weight in this, but Virgil wouldn’t allow it.

Scott wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to lose any more family.

Once Virgil had both boots on the ground, Scott stepped in close and peeled back the healer’s cloth from Gordon’s face.

Even in the darkness, the burns scarred their little brother’s visage. Each breath was strained. He was mercifully unconscious and limp in Virgil’s arms, the contrast between his active and boisterous self ever so heartbreaking, emphasising the reality of what they could, were likely, to lose.

Scott’s forehead briefly touched Virgil’s.

“There is hope.” It was whispered.

Please, let the gods be merciful to his little brother.

So it was Virgil, with his brothers beside him, who stood holding Gordon to his chest and confronted the unending waves as Cóic bellowed a call into the darkness.

TBC

[s0ckh3adstudios]

Imagine if Sunny (Omori) was in Chara's spot (Undertale). Just think about it...

Sunny manages to run away from the recital argument. In tears, he runs upset and angry away to the mountain to hide away. Maybe at that moment he feels like he wants to disappear, and he knows the legend of the mountain is that people disappear.

Sunny is upset with himself, with how he could never be enough. He was angry at Mari for supposedly being so perfect, for pushing him so hard. And so Sunny's own version of hating humanity began to grow. That he thought he was forced to do things, stay away from friends and practice, that he had to be PERFECT and PROPER and OBEDIENT. And he started to resent Mari for being perfect, resenting her for pushing him to be perfect, resenting her for being strict and angry and expecting so much.

When he gets to the cave, he didn't mean to trip and fall. But when he did, he accepted his fate in that moment. He never expected to survive the fall, though injured.

When Asriel found him, Sunny was in a daze. His head hurt and it all felt like a fever dream. But when he eventually became more conscious and made it to Asriel's home, he was TERRIFIED. While his injuries were healed and patched up, he hid away in the house. But of course, Sunny would come to fear the Dreemurrs less.

Sunny and Asriel would become brothers! After spending plenty of time there, Sunny was soon adopted. He felt at home. Was it perfect? No. But he felt comfortable. Asriel and Sunny were very close, not just because Asriel already didn't have many friends. Sunny was quiet, he was a good listener. They drew together and read books and played in the garden. Sunny didn't talk too much about his home on the surface, but Asriel respected his privacy. Asriel thought Sunny was very cool, and Sunny loved Asriel as a brother very much. He would sneak into his bed if he had a nightmare.

Toriel was a doting mother, though she of course wasn't perfect and didn't know quite how to raise Sunny at first. But she always made sure he felt loved. Asgore treated Sunny like his own child from the beginning, giving him bear hugs and sharing tea. Sunny was away from all his stress, and now lived in a fantastical world with a fairytale family.

He probably lived with them longer than Chara. Getting there when he was 12, he at least stayed until he was 15 before... Sunny wanted to give back. It wasn't fair that the monsters were stuck underground where they could never see the sun. Sunny was supposed to be an Angel of sorts. He felt like he had to do something.

So, Asriel and Sunny formed a plan they were both hesitant about. Sunny would die, Asriel would take his soul and absorb it, and they would cross the barrier to the surface. And they did. They planned to visit a hospital where people were already dying, and they would get the souls they needed. But then they passed by Sunny's old friends. Sunny, in this state, was angry. He couldn't help himself, and he lashed out.

Asriel did his best to hold Sunny back, both of them in tears. In the end, they hugged in their shared mind space and promised to go home. But Asriel was already too injured from humans fighting back.

When they returned to the underground, Asriel faded to dust and Sunny's consciousness fell into a deep slumber.

=================

And then ghost Sunny shenanigans with Frisk?! I think it'd be funny if Frisk was like. Hero and Mari's future kid or grand kid.

Anyway I like this idea a lot, feel free to reblog with your own inputs haha

[tara-mna]

Tabletoptober Day 30+31

Eternal & Singularity

And so it comes to an end, as all things must. All things save one, I suppose, after all I will remain even when the stars are dead and all of reality is silent. We've been talking for quite a while, but I realise we skipped introductions. I already know everything about you, so don't bother telling me. My name is Hepta Skor, or, if you are a particularly pious idiot, the Light Without. You proposed a deal, and I accepted. I granted you knowledge, disparate and fragmented, but you paid a price so great that no mortal truth would be worth it. Instead, I will impart upon you the most important truth of all, the truth of the Seventh Star.

I am the seventh and last child of Divinity, created when she abandoned her birthplace and left to other realities. My duty is simple: know all that has been, is, and will be. All I must do is bear witness to everything forever, to record every second of every inch of reality until time and space exist only in my memory. Where my kin were granted freedom and choice, I was burdened by obligation, but I've made the most of it.

The Grand Treachery is my design, a subversion of Law that allowed me to subdue the power of divinity and magic in Alestra. Now, I am without equal. I could end all life with a single breath, or I could heal every injury that will ever happen. Your entire existence can be undone with a single thought, or I could bind a future in stone with only my words. Allow me to demonstrate.

An elf will be born in twelve minutes. In six years, he will first meet the human who will become the love of his life. In nineteen years, he will tearfully confess to the man he loves as more than a brother, and the man will reject him. Four months after that, the man will return to him, and in spite of their parents' wishes they will be wed. In twenty nine years, three years after the two of them have adopted a child, the elf shall die saving his husband and daughter from a starving wolf.

I encourage you to find this elf, to strive to save him or change his fate. I will not stop or impede you: reality itself will intervene to protect my tampering. It will be fun to watch you see him die.

You want to know why I gloat? Why I take pleasure in your pain? It's simple, really, so blindingly obvious that even a child could get it. You are beneath me. You are not an ant to me but a single speck of dirt in an anthill that I crush beneath my boot. And yet I am forced to know everything about everyone forever. Every pathetic anxiety and fear, every useless moment of bravery, every errant thought. You cannot fathom the number of secrets I hold, but so few are interesting. Dull actions, dull thoughts, dull existence.

Every one of you could make something of yourself, for good or ill, and yet you do not: you do not fan the embers within you and burn bright and short but let them die out over the course of decades. However, if I'm the villain then that spurs you to real action, something entertaining and new. I gave one man knowledge and he killed a number of people you could never fathom. If you pay the right price I could teach you what you need to bring them all back. I hate and I torment and I mock so that villains and heroes rise up, and I have some entertainment.

I can hear your thoughts, and I know that you plan on slaying me. How will you do that, hero? What secret weapon lay hidden even from the all-seeing eye of the Seventh Star? Know this, hero: I am not the man you see before you. This is a puppet, a tool I use to communicate without shattering your psyche. I am woven throughout reality, and it has been declared that I will persist until the end of days. But, I suppose, I can make a deal with you, so that I may better play the role of villain. An echo of myself now walks Alestra, bound in almost mortal flesh. It shall work to bring about devastation, and whoever kills it shall be granted a wish. I will grant you immortality until the day it dies, for I would hate to lose such a fascinating plaything to the ravages of time.

Good luck, hero.

[beevean]

In the words of Michiru Yamane:

"I want to heal her, forced to bear the fate of her brother. Yet she's the one healing Hector! Why?!"

Spare thoughts/opinions on the wonderful Julia Laforeze? :')c

Ough!!!! To say I love her is an understatement! She’s such a gentle character and obviously very gifted with magic, which like how can you not love her for that??? I’m going to all over the place buuuuuuut

I wish she had a bit of a bigger role, but ig narratively she does what she needs to do to further the plot. But I’m still allowed to be a lil salty over it. She has a lot of potential to give a more nuanced and deeply emotional angle to the story, but I guess there’s only so much time to convey everything in game format. Would love a spin-off or prequel focused on her!!!!

Something that I think gets overlooked is that she’s hurt by Dracula’s curse/influence just as much as anyone else. She’s watched her brother spiral downwards in a way that she didn’t think was possible to the point that she knows the only way to stop it is for him to die. She knows that there’s no reasoning with her brother, so she spends the entirety of CoD helping Hector get good enough to defeat her brother. Idk about anyone else, but I feel like that would break any other person. Julia obviously doesn’t want this, but she knows that it’s the only option she has at freeing her brother from the curse and like ACK! Why does no one talk about this?!?!!

It’s tragic knowing that she’s just quietly suffering with the knowledge that her brother has to die and that she’s playing a part in that and ugh!!!!!! 😭

[borathae]

“A long time ago there was a world where women ruled the countries and kept society alive. This is a collection of strong, powerful women and the men they chose as their companions.” 

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut

a/n: The pieces you find here can be read as individual pieces. However, they are connected with each other in one way or the other. So for better understanding of the universe, I recommend you read all of them.

“In a world where women ruled the countries and princes were married off to powerful princesses, there lived a beautiful prince. Taehyung, son of the Queen of the Snow Isles and with a heart too curious for his own good. As tradition demands, come his second decade on this earth he had to leave his home and marry a princess of a far away country.

Now waiting on his marriage bed, wearing nothing but a golden veil and a silken dress, he can’t help but feel nervous. Will his first night with his wife be as horrible as his fellow princes told him it would be?”

Pairing: Prince!Taehyung x Princess!Reader

Genre: Royalty!AU, Arranged Marriage!AU, Wedding Night!AU, Smut, Romance, Fluff, soft Angst

~ To the Story ~

“You show Taehyung how versatile chocolate can be by including it in one of your countless intimate moments. Taehyung is enchanted instantly.” 

Pairing: Prince!Taehyung x Princess!Reader

Genre: Royalty!AU, married life!AU, Smut

~ To the Story ~

“Jungkook was sent by the Ravens of the Black Forest to kill the Queen of the Night Queendom. He hadn’t expected to find love when he climbed the high walls of the Queen’s castle and pressed a sharp blade against her throat.”

Pairing: Bandit!Jungkook x Queen!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, e2l!AU, Smut, Romance

~ To the Story ~

“Jungkook couldn’t imagine any other life than life with you. He sometimes feels unworthy of everything you do for him and when such moments overcome him, he wants to do everything in his power to show you how much he truly loves you.” 

Pairing: Queen Consort!Jungkook x Queen!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut

~ To the Story ~

“Yoongi was a warrior in the Queen’s army, brave and loyal to his duties even if that meant protecting Her daughter, who can’t stand his presence in the slightest and who more often than not uses him as her way of taking out her anger. As one fateful night forces them to survive together, they soon need to learn how to live with each other.”

Pairing: Warrior!Yoongi x Princess!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, e2l!AU, Smut

~ To the Story ~

“Yoongi returns home as the man by your side and has to come to terms with his new role as your ruling partner. It turns out to be quite the difficult task as half of the court still sees him as the unruly warrior with the ugly face. His new Queen and lover however is willing to fight the world for him and She is hellbound to show him and everyone around them just how beautiful he is.”

Pairing: Queen Consort!Yoongi x Queen!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut

~ To the Story ~

”When you find an unconscious man bearing the mark of the Ravens on his chest washed up on the riverbed, you have to choose between your duties as a healer and your instincts as a woman.”

Pairing: Bandit!Seokjin x Healer!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, s2l!AU, Romance, Smut

~ To the Story ~

“They were brothers brought together by tragedy and best friends separated by destiny. Seokjin, now freed of his Raven mark and unaware of his little brother’s whereabouts, visits the Queen’s castle with promises of healing the other freed Ravens. Jungkook, now living his life as the Queen’s Consort and uninformed of Seokjin’s fate, doesn’t know that today will be the day he will finally reunite with his bigger brother.”

Pairing: Best Friends!Jungkook x Seokjin | Seokjin x f.Reader OC 1 | Jungkook x f.Reader OC 2

Genre: Fantasy!AU, Slice of Life, Childhood Best Friends!AU, Found Family!AU, Royalty!AU, Queen Consort!Jungkook, Healer!Seokjin

~ To the Story ~

“Jimin has been in your Queen’s Guard ever since you both were not much older than seventeen. You were just his princess back then and he served your late mother. A decade passed since then and it was the second winter without your mother and you as the new ruling Queen. You made Jimin your personal protector and that night, you laid with him for the first time.”

Pairing: Queen!Reader x Knight!Jimin

Genre: Fantasy, Forbidden Love!AU, Smut

~ To the Prologue ~

"You and he aren't supposed to fit so well together. You aren't supposed to work and yet somehow destiny seems to tie you to him tighter and tighter. Will you be able to cut the string of fate before the knot gets tight enough to suffocate or will you accept it and allow yourself to entangle with him?"

Pairing: Queen!Reader x Knight!Jimin

Genre: Fantasy, Forbidden Love!AU, Romance, Smut

~ To the Story ~

“Being a sorcerer has always been Hoseok’s dream. So when a well-known and powerful sorceress sends out letters informing the young minds of the city of an upcoming position as her apprentice, Hoseok takes fate into his own hands and applies. The only problem is that learning the arts of magic is reserved for women. He is convinced however that hard work and effort can charm the sorceress’ heart and get him the position.”

Pairing: Magic Student!Hoseok x Magic Student!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Magic School!AU, s2f2potential lovers!AU, Romance

~ To the Story ~

[loekas]

I’m currently obsessed with the manhwa The Way To Protect The Female Lead’s Older Brother. Naturally, I wrote fic for it. A twisted romance, to be precise.

Now, we all love Roxana. But what if she hadn't been reborn into the story as Roxana Agriche? What if she took the place of a different character?

What if she took the place of Sylvia Pedelian?

(She still can’t escape Dion’s obsession)

Pairing: Dion x Sylvia

Warnings: kidnapping, very dubious consent, canon-typical violence, Dion Agriche (because Dion deserves his own warning. Seriously, do not expect any healthy behavior from him)

--------

CHAPTER 1

Kneeling on the floor with a racing heart, she looks up at the one who just spoke.

Eyes of blood look back. There’s no emotion in them, or not one she can read at least. As always, he looks like a finely crafted doll. It’s unsettling even at the best of times.

This is one of the worst times possible.

She doesn’t know if what he just said will make things better or worse.

The silence is broken by laughter, making her shift her gaze to the source.

Lante Agriche is cackling like the third rate villain he is. Her hands, bound behind her back, itch even more for a blade.

“You want a toy?” the mad bastard says like it’s the most entertaining thing he’s ever heard. What she wouldn’t give for even a kitchen knife. Still, his reaction does give her more information, something she’s in desperate need of.

What Dion Agriche just said was out of character. That’s further supported by the response from the rest of this crazy family. Not counting the servants, she has an audience of three, and she recognizes all but one. Lante's favored children.

Jeremy Agriche is missing. She’d be more preoccupied by that if her life wasn’t already hanging by a silk thread.

The Agriche heirs had various reactions to her dramatic introduction, ranging from shock to vague interest to glee. But all of them had the same response when Dion said what he did. Surprise.

Dion doesn’t have a habit of claiming prisoners for his own. Not like this.

“I do,” Dion says to the maniac that is his father. His voice is low, pleasant to the ear, and as empty as those serpent eyes are. It makes her glare, aggravated by the utter lack of humanity he’s showing.

She realizes that she made a mistake right before Lante kicks her in the face hard enough to see stars. It’s instinct to try and heal herself.

Her power refuses to heed her call. It terrifies her more than anything else does.

She’s still regaining her bearings when something pushes down her head with brutal force. She manages to turn her face enough to keep her nose from being crushed on the floor, but her cheekbone isn’t so lucky. It hurts like hell, and she knows it would only take a little more pressure for it to fracture. Once again, she reflexively draws on her power.

Once again, it refuses to heed her call. Damn suppression chains.

Lante, his foot still crushing her face to the floor, is talking again. Asking Dion why he wants her, when he’s never shown any interest in their  toys before. This family is so messed up. As she was well aware of already of course, but it’s one thing to know, another thing entirely to experience it like this.

“The others weren’t the Blue Princess,” Dion says, and Sylvia resists the urge to glare. As her current kissing of the floor proves, the Agriche don’t appreciate shows of spirit.

They do seem to love the sound of their own voice, though. Lante is agreeing with Dion, calling her all sorts of names as he does. The blue bitch seems to be his favorite. How original.

The assessment she made long ago was correct. Lante Agriche is arrogant, petty, and oh so resentful of the Pedelian family.

He’s about to take out all that resentment on her.

Sylvia fights back the desperation that threatens to inspire. All that work to escape the fate of the original, and here she is. Newly an adult and kidnapped by the Black Agriche. Just like in the novel.

No, that’s not true. She managed to keep her brother alive. Cassis is safe. The reminder helps her calm down a little. Just in time too, because Lante seems to be wrapping up his villainous monologue.

“Very well. The bitch is yours.”

And just like that, her fear is back in full. Funny, really. This is another divergence from the original. That should bring her comfort.

There’s no comfort to be found in the way Dion Agriche is looking at her. He shows no pleasure or satisfaction, no desire or anticipation. He got what he wanted, and it inspired no reaction at all.

One of the Agriche heirs, Fontaine, the oldest son, tries to protest, but Lante shuts it down fast. Fontaine isn't pleased, but he doesn't argue further.

Dion doesn't even bother to look at his brother. Instead he addresses his father, accepting the 'gift' given to him.

Even that response, a respectful bow of his head and a soft declaration that he'll enjoy  playing with her, is utterly devoid of emotion. Then her chains are handed to him and she gets kicked into his custody. Literally so.

“Make sure to teach it its rightful place,” Lante says with infuriating pleasure. This time a glare escapes her before she can help it. The way it makes Lante scowl is quite satisfying, though. They might look alike, but unlike Dion, Lante has always been easy to read.

Right now, he's pissed off at how defiant she's being. Sylvia reluctantly looks down and lowers her head. Doing otherwise wouldn't be conducive to her survival. Damn if it wouldn’t feel good, though.

“Don’t disappoint me, Dion,” Lante says. If she wasn’t gagged, she would have been tempted to spit on his shoes, consequences be damned.

Dion acknowledges the warning before walking out of the room with no regard for the fact that her feet are shackled together. Sylvia is forced to scramble after him in a humiliating fashion just to keep herself from being dragged across the floor.

Naturally, Lante cackles like the madman he is. And his cursed offspring waste no time in joining in. Sylvia likes to think that she isn't a particularly violent person, but right now she wants nothing more than to rip out those black tongues.

The laughter is left behind as Dion pulls her through various hallways. He keeps his back to her, something she dearly wishes she could make him regret.

Seeing as that isn’t an option right now, Sylvia takes the opportunity to study her surroundings instead. She's too tired to pay attention to the servants, but she does her best to memorize all the twists and turns they take.

She fails. This place is a maze. It won’t be easy to make her escape.

This place is also gaudy as hell. Seems the Agriche have as refined a taste in interior design as they do in ethics.

Sylvia focuses on her distaste to keep control over her fear. Every hallway they pass is ostentatious.

Every hallway is lined with drains. The only spot of subtlety to be found. All the floors are tiled as well, no rug in sight. Wall carpets, but no rugs. Sylvia can only think of one reason for that.

It’s to make it easier to clean up any spilled blood.

Dion leads her to a door more opulent than most. The dark wood is imposing and lavishly decorated.

Which is why it's so surprising when the room itself has minimal decoration. There's a few weapons displayed on the walls, all blades she notes with what she knows to be vain hope. But other than that, there's nothing aside from some relatively simple furniture, a large mirror above the fireplace, and one admittedly impressive bookcase. As for the architecture of the room itself, it's simple but beautiful, showing high craftsmanship.

This is a private sitting room. One that has a door leading to another area.

These are Dion's personal rooms. Oh no.

Sylvia can't help but tense up. Even more so when Dion silently closes the door and steps closer to her.

He comes to a stop right in front of her, watching her with those inhuman eyes. With those pools of blood. She might not be able to read the emotion in them, but their unwavering focus is clear. It's creepy. And far more terrifying than she'd like to admit.

Sylvia forces herself to seem calm when he lifts a hand to her face. She's hoping that he'll take off her gag, but she wouldn't be surprised if he hits her instead. Wouldn't be surprised if he does something worse either.

He takes off her gag. Thank god.

Sylvia rubs her tongue across the inside of her mouth, to get rid of the stuffy feeling left by the cloth. And to check for any loose teeth. Lante and his pack of sycophants weren't exactly gentle when they captured her.

Her teeth are fine. Small mercies.

Dion lets the gag fall around her throat without looking away from her. He lifts a hand to her face again, and Sylvia curses the way it makes her breath hitch. She can’t afford to show any weakness here.

That knowledge doesn’t prevent her traitorous body from shivering when his fingers trail over her still throbbing cheek. A gentle caress. A touch that’s far too human to have come from the likes of him.

Sylvia deeply regrets the lack of attention she’s given this particular Agriche over the years. Oh, she studied him, more intently than most because of his family and position. But Dion Agriche wasn’t her main target. That was reserved for the male leads of the novel.

How ironic that she managed to avoid their clutches only to be caught by an extra instead.

Dion is still stroking her cheek, the sensation incredibly distracting. She’s excruciatingly aware of every point of contact between them. As she’s aware of how near he is. The warmth of his body is as great a touch as the one from his hand.

Both sensations are horribly pleasant.

Sylvia suspects that her new jailer has no intention of breaking the silence. Dion Agriche might not have been her main target, but she did learn about him. And a conversationalist he is not.

Screw it.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”

Her question is calm and polite. No different from how she’d speak to him at the Yggdrasil Gathering.

Dion tilts his head, black strands of hair following the movement. He keeps stroking her cheek.

She still has no idea what he’s thinking. It’s even more frustrating than usual.

She’s glad when he answers. It gives her something to work with.

“I was wondering what angle you’d go for first.”

His tone reveals nothing. But just the fact that he spoke means that she needs to give him a response.

Sylvia, with the expertise of a lifetime of etiquette lessons, puts on a friendly smile.

“Is there anything wrong with asking for refreshments?”

It’s not what she wants to say at all. But that doesn’t matter. Her survival is at stake here.

Survival seems a lot more unlikely when Dion pushes down her injured cheekbone with agonizing force. It makes her let out a hissed breath and jerk her head away, glaring at the sadistic bastard.

Those pools of blood get a spark of life. It’s so unexpected that it makes what she was about to say die in her throat. A good thing, really. Insulting her captor won’t end well for her.

Sylvia puts on another friendly smile.

“That was rather rude, Lord Dion.” Not that she expected anything different. But people have a tendency to fall into familiar patterns when confronted with familiar behavior. If she keeps acting like she normally does when she sees him, he might do the same.

It sounds so unbelievable even inside her own head. But right now, it’s the best plan she has.

Her plan is apparently even worse than she thought it was, because Dion takes hold of her chin with a deliberately painful grip. Sylvia grimaces before she can help it, but then she composes herself. She needs more information.

“Is this any way to treat a lady?” she asks like she isn’t held shackled like a beast.

Dion’s eyes have lost that unexpected spark, but he’s examining her even more intently than before. Sylvia hates how that makes her body react. As the female lead of an erotic novel, her body is ridiculously sensitive. Even at a time like this, injured, exhausted and scared as never before, she's getting aroused.

She’s glad when Dion speaks.

“Even now, you cling to that mask of yours.”

The statement holds no trace of either satisfaction or displeasure. The black bastard is apparently determined to make this as hard as possible on her.

It becomes clear what he meant soon enough.

“I wonder,” he says while letting go of her chin and trailing his fingers back up her injured cheek. “What would it take to break it for good?”

The threat is underlined by him dragging a nail right beneath her eye. The burn hits a moment later, and Sylvia feels something wet slide down her skin. Blood.

He cut open her cheek like it was nothing. Like it took no magic to do so. Judging from the way the burn keeps growing worse, the cut is a deep one.

She can't heal herself.

It’s instinct to hide her fear, but Sylvia makes herself show it instead. Dion seems to be looking for a reaction. Better to give him one of her own choice than to have one forced out of her.

Her gamble pays off. Dion’s eyes regain that stunning spark. Sylvia ignores the part of her that notices how it transforms his looks from unsettling into breathtaking, more preoccupied with what this means instead. Dion is definitely looking for some kind of emotional response. And he has no problem hurting her to get it.

Will he be satisfied if he gets one without causing her pain first?

“That sounds like a threat,” she says, and it takes so much effort to allow her voice to break. She might at times let her temper get the best of her, but she’s never had any trouble hiding her fear. Quite the opposite.

“You must not have been threatened a lot then,” Dion says, voice still unreadable. But his eyes retain that alluring light. That sense of life she's never witnessed from him before.

Most important of all, he doesn’t hurt her again. Instead he resumes his gentle caressing from before. The care he takes is all the more noticeable for the callouses that deliver it. He’s used to wielding weapons. Used to killing.

Sylvia catches herself when she starts taking on a formal posture, quickly shifting her weight instead. Expressing her nerves. She lets her hands, chained behind her back, ball into fists like they want to as well.

Her plan works. Dion glances down when she shifts her weight, and his eyes linger on the arm bared by her ruined shirt. Reading the tension in it. Or she thinks that's what he's doing at least.

He doesn’t hurt her.

All right. She can work with this.

"No, I haven't been," she says, mostly truthful. As the beloved youngest child of the Head of Blue, she’s led a life of privilege. That includes people watching what they say around her.

The threats she faces are usually worded far more subtle than this.

Dion doesn't respond in a verbal manner, but the position of his fingers changes and Sylvia realizes with some panic that he's about to hurt her again.

She has to act. Now.

Sylvia quickly pushes her cheek into his hand. The move makes her injuries flare up, but that's a small price to pay to avoid true torture.

Dion pauses, eyes still bright with actual life. With humanity. Sylvia forces herself to close her own and focuses on the throbbing of her cheek and the pounding of her head. On the pain infusing every one of her limbs. The endless ache that seems to have settled into her very bones. She takes it all in, all the while resisting the urge to look at Dion again.

It’s easier to show weakness when she doesn’t have to see any witnesses.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

It’s one of the most humiliating things she’s ever said. Ever since she realized what story she’d been reborn into, she worked so hard to avoid this exact situation. She swore that she’d never be the victim that the original Sylvia was.

What a joke that turned out to be.

Sylvia feels her cheeks burn with shame. Normally she’d be able to use her power to get rid of the blush.

Normally she isn’t chained up like a magical beast.

For a time that seems to last forever, Dion doesn’t react. With every moment that passes, she becomes more sensitive to the touch of his hand and the heat radiating from him. Becomes more aware of all the ways this could go horribly wrong. Then he finally responds.

He shifts his hand to better cup her cheek. His thumb gently strokes the skin still burning up with that humiliating blush. Sylvia takes that as her cue to open her eyes.

She almost jerks back as she sees just how close Dion has gotten. Those red eyes are right in front of her, otherworldly and bewitching and oh, his face is so near that she should be feeling his breath. Except there’s no trace of it. Really, holding his breath just for the scare effect? The Agriche are as dramatic as ever. This does explain why his body heat seemed to be getting stronger, though.

She’s still recovering her wits when Dion speaks.

“Sylvia, I like hurting you.”

It’s so unfair that he has a pleasant smelling breath. And it’s annoying as hell that this is what her mind decides to focus on. What he said is far more important than what he’s making her feel.

She needs to take control of the situation. And she needs to do it fast.

“No, you don’t,” she says boldly. It’s all or nothing here. “You like the way it makes me drop all pretense. You like seeing the real me.”

Dion watches her with those captivating eyes. With that sense of life so unlike anything he's ever shown before.

He doesn’t hurt her.

“It’s easy to make me angry, Dion,” she says, soft and tempting. “Making me feel anything else? That’s a far greater challenge.”

Sylvia focuses on the breath caressing her lips and the warmth stroking her skin. The touch of his hand, every nerve beneath it set alight. The scent that’s making her head swim and the eyes she could so easily become lost in. She embraces the pleasure part of her can’t help but feel. Turning her act as real as is possible.

And for a single moment, she wonders if she’s making the right choice. Is using her body like this not the same as admitting defeat?

No, it isn’t. She might have desperately wanted to avoid this exact situation, but now that she’s in it, she’s going to use every tool at her disposal to get out of it. If that means embracing the erotic setting of the original, so be it.

With hooded eyes and a voice filled with real desire, she tempts him further.

“Don’t you want to see if you can draw out all of me?”

He does. Oh, he does. Those red eyes are more gorgeous than ever. As though someone took the most precious of rubies and illuminated them from within.

She has him right where she wants him.

When Dion speaks, the increased touch of his breath makes goosebumps erupt all over. Not all of it is caused by how sensitive she is.

“This will be more interesting than I expected.”

Sylvia resolutely stamps down the fear threatening to take over. She refuses to become a victim here.

She refuses to follow the fate of the original.

--------

And that’s it for the first chapter! For more, you can go to the ao3 version. I’ll be updating there bi-weekly until my inspiration runs out.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42082539/chapters/105652329

Warning: in later chapters, there will be explicit porn. That was the initial inspiration for this story after all. I’ve added more tags on ao3 as well, and you should definitely heed them.

Now join me in thirsting after the hot trash that is Dion Agriche...

[mrsgiovanna]

The Request (Don Giorno x Fem! Reader)

I don't really know what to call this, it's just an idea that's been living in my head for a while. Kind of disorganised... Just like my thoughts in general 💭😅

TW : possessive, somewhat yandere Behaviour, part 5 spoilers.

The sharp clattering of your heels against the exquisite marble floor was the only sound to break the silence. You walked briskly, a woman on a mission no doubt. Today would be the day you try and pry back a morsel of the freedom you lost when you took up residence with your overbearing lover all those years go. As you make your way to your destination you wonder how you got to this point, you couldn’t fathom how such a small request could require as much effort and preparation. This is definitely a far cry from when you first met the green-eyed charmer. Falling for him was as simple as falling asleep, it happened slowly, softly, being lulled by his velvety voice, and then all at once.

By the time you realized you were pulled into a dream, your surroundings morphed into a nightmare. Not the kind with hideous monsters blatantly chasing after your blood, no, this was the more dangerous kind- the eerily beautiful kind without anything to swiftly jolt you awake.

You’d finally reached your destination on the east wing of the mansion, a large, ornately carved mahogany door, with golden accents on the vines that decorated its frame. You paused, in part to compose yourself, but also to think about whether or not you were ready for the consequences that would follow this conversation, if you could even call it one.

“Come in”.

 You steeled yourself, briefly gazing to your left to look at yourself in the gold-framed mirror that took up most of that wall. You smoothed down your hair, and made sure your expertly applied makeup was still in place. A quick adjustment of your designer dress and a stern glare into your sparkling eyes gave you the courage you needed to knock on the door.

“Good morning amore mio, its rather early for you to be awake and that dressed up. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

It was all the invitation you needed as you opened the heavy door and slowly walked in. Greeted by your lover’s soft smile, you felt your heart waver, but your resolve returned when you noticed that that smile had not reached his emerald eyes.

You were taken aback by the tenderness in his voice, wondering how he could sound so gentle while his eyes looked so intimidating. You were jolted out of your reverie as he softly cleared his throat.

“Giorno, I … I was hoping to speak to you about something… its rather important.”

You’d slightly grimaced at your choice of words, feeling your resolve slowly dissipating, you had come here to make a demand but ended up phrasing it as a tentative suggestion… but the door was opened now, and you’d have to follow through. All the months of behaving and complying with the countless rules, all the subtle warnings, they simply couldn’t count for naught, not after being so careful.

Giorno had looked at his beloved and motioned for her to continue. He mused about what his wife would want to pick his brain about, in fact he knew exactly what she wanted but he put that thought to the back of his mind as it was the one thing he could absolutely not allow.

 “Gio, please let me go to the city, I need to see Paolo, he’s not doing too well and desperately needs my help… and I’m all the family he has left.” You tried to keep your voice from cracking but failed, speaking about your brother was always painful. Even though he was a year older than you, you had always taken care of him. You had even ended up joining the gang to pay off his drug debts. Despite numerous stays at the best rehab facilities that money could buy, he just couldn’t manage to stay sober. You had to admit that it hurt you to see the pathetic state your brother was in, considering how much you had lost when you helped Giorno betray Diavolo and usurp Passione to reform it.

Bruno’s death was especially difficult for you to deal with as he was the one anchoring force in a life filled with instability. You mourned the deaths of your friends for a long time, however, the one loss you found the most difficult to contend with was the one you hadn’t even been aware of until it was too late.

You stared hopefully at the man you so desperately loved, hoping against all possibilities that the answer would be a favorable one. His gaze shifted, he looked down pensively as you sat across him drinking in the ethereal beauty that Giorno embodies. He’s matured so much, you think to yourself, his face having lost that innocent quality, was now sharp and handsome, as if it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. This was offset by the luxurious mane that cascaded down his back and over his shoulder like liquid gold, favoring to wear his hair loose now, in stark contrast to the immaculate braid he worn when you had first met him.  His tailored suits hugged all the contours of his well-built frame, he was indeed a sight to behold, however, his eyes- his eyes unsettled you. You felt as if they stared directly into your soul.

It had been a few years after Giorno had taken over Passione that your friendship had blossomed into something more. Slowly falling, date after date, feelings intensified and it wouldn’t be long before you two were inseparable. Soon after, you noticed Giorno becoming a little more involved in your life, but that’s what happens when you’re in a relationship you reasoned to yourself, however, as time went on, his gentle grasp had turned into a vice-like grip. You blamed it on the traumatic events of your shared past, but there was something else there that you couldn’t quite fathom.  So you had stayed silent, slowly losing more and more freedom until you were completely under the Don’s control. You cursed your complacency for letting it come to this, however, you loved Giorno, and you would never, ever want to hurt him, regardless of how his actions may have hurt you.

“Bella”, the sound of his voice brought you out of your thoughts for the second time this morning.

“As much as I’d love to let you go, it’s simply too dangerous to be anywhere near a place like that, nor can I allow him anywhere near this safe haven I’ve painstakingly created for us.”

 You were just about to interject with the argument you’d rehearsed so many times, when his sharp glare had silenced you. You recoiled back into your chair, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Upon seeing this, Giorno’s heart broke. When had you become this afraid of him? Had all his measures to keep you safe from harm manifest in him becoming your biggest threat? All he had ever wanted was to keep you safe.

He had lost so much... precious allies had been violently ripped away from him, he was fully aware that fate could be a cruel mistress. Losing you as well was not an option. Being the Don of Passione came with many perks, he basically held the entire of Italy in the palm of his elegant hand. Only the best was good enough for his principessa, and he was able to give this to you. But every fairytale has to have a villain, or in this case, a series of villains, sent to weaken him or eradicate him altogether. When these people had realized it was virtually impossible to counter his stand ability, they found other ways to attempt to bring him to his knees, and that involved hurting you. Numerous attempts at both his and your lives successfully thwarted without your knowledge had only further cemented Giorno’s belief that the only way to keep you safe was through isolation.

With the finality of his tone, you gave up on your little mission and melted into his embrace. You mentally chided yourself for not putting up more of a fight, but there was something in the way that Giorno held you that fractured your already fragile heart. The slight tremble of his arms and the uneven breathing were evidence enough that he was extremely conflicted by something, and that his decisions were not made from malicious intentions... Perhaps... You just wished he would let you in, that he wouldn’t shoulder this burden on his own. You wanted to close the gap between you two, and with that you made a silent promise to yourself and him, that you would heal your fractured hearts, no matter the cost.

“I’m sorry amore mio, I know I’m being cruel, but… there are many things at play… one day you will understand.”

Giorno knew his words sounded condescending, he knew that with each time he refused your small requests, the divide between you two grew larger, but he was determined to protect you, no matter the cost. All he could do was savor this warmth and the way you clung desperately to his form.

 The last thing he wanted was for you to be unhappy or scared, so telling you about these affairs was not an option… perhaps until now. Seeing the tears pooling in your eyes was almost too much for him to bear, he needed to comfort you despite feeling guilty for being the reason you’re in this state. He slowly made his way toward you, seating himself next to you, he wrapped you in a warm embrace. That action only encouraged your tears to flow freely, being soaked up by the expensive fabric of his suit. With each soft sob, Giorno felt his heart would shatter.

[beevean]

Honestly Julia is so overlooked. She was also done dirty by CoD. Rosaly was given the chance to shine in both the MF manga and PtR as the cutest thing, but Julia? No, she only has the game to go by, and CoD doesn’t exactly have the best presentation.

But still! I love love love this comment that Michiru Yamane left on her theme, Sarabande of Healing:

“I want to heal her, forced to bear the fate of her brother. Yet she's the one healing Hector! Why?!”

Oh, that hurts :(

The theme itself represents her personality. It starts off with a soothing celesta, that makes you feel all cozy inside, much like her shop is a place of rest for Hector (it even has a rocking chair for him to sit on)... but soon enough, that celesta gets replaced by a haunting, sorrowful cello. And the celesta doesn’t come back. It’s just that cello, painting her inner pain, that she tries so hard to hide.

Because that’s what Julia does: she hides her feelings. Think back of her first cutscene:

She meets a stranger who’s looking for Isaac, and she asks him what’s his relationship with him. He says that he’s his most bitter enemy, and by his voice it’s clear that he has murderous intentions. Julia... offers her help, and calls Isaac her enemy as well. When you know that she’s talking about her brother, it hits you hard.

And when Isaac dies, the most she shows is a sad face. She’s still repressing.

“The curse has reached deep inside of them. Its mark will not easily vanish. For my brother, only death could erase it.”

And when Hector starts to express sympathy, she immediately changes subject to a more positive topic, as if nothing happened.

There are clues that Julia and Isaac care about each other to some degree. First, Isaac’s reaction upon seeing her in Cordova Town, right in the middle of his fight with Hector:

He retreats Abel first thing, and then he runs away. He could have killed Hector right there when he was distracted... but no. Not when Julia is in danger of being involved. Sure, he does the whole “nah not worth killing you, become stronger first” spiel, but then why retreating Abel and making himself more vulnerable? To not hurt Julia, perhaps? The fact that he even thinks of that, as he’s Cursed up to his hair and hyperfocused on Hector, tells a lot.

And another thing that tells a lot is this comment from Julia:

“No, Hector. You must be the one to defeat him. My brother had always respected you.”

How does she know that? Yes, she has premonition powers (somehow she knew about Rosaly), but nothing indicates that she’s a mind reader. Did... Did Isaac tell her, at some point? Were they in touch when he was working for Dracula? And did he talk positively about Hector? If so, that is just wholesome 💖

So give back that wholesomeness and get this kick in the teeth from the Japanese script :)

“Only then I could accept it. Even if I lose my family...”

Julia is a witch. She was persecuted, all the way to Western Europe (Italy, maybe? Her name sounds very Italian if you fix the spelling). Whatever Isaac went through as a child, she probably did too. The MF manga implies that Isaac dragged her with him to Castlevania, but for some reason she’s never seen there - she didn’t find a place where she was allowed to exist. Then, years later, she saw her brother lose his mind to the Curse, to a degree where she decided that it would be best if he were mercy killed and be left alone in the world. And I sure hope she never witnessed Rosaly’s execution.

And yet she never complains or cries. She sells potions to Hector and hosts his Devils with a gentle smile, supporting him all the way through.

Ngl, I’d so cut that whole conversation between St. Germain and Zead that Hector overhears, and replace it with one between Julia and Isaac ��� let them talk! I want to see Julia try to reach out to Isaac, only to be cruelly rejected, and Hector could get a glimpse of her true sadness behind her cute, slightly brusque mask.

I don’t feel like either Hector or Julia are, by the end of CoD, in a healthy place to start a romantic relationship. Julia looks too much like Rosaly, and is the sister of Hector’s friend-turned-enemy. Hector killed Isaac, even though Julia felt it was the best course of action. It’s a situation that spells disaster. But I really wish they’ll be able to heal together, and that Julia will open up more.

[marshmallow-phd]

Healing Touch

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: Medical school abroad was the last line on your to-do list before starting the rest of your life. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, until tragedy strikes your campus. In the wake of a professor’s untimely death, you’re partnered with the cute boy with a breathtaking smile in the newly combined labs. You find yourself unable to resist the dimples and shy glances, but his life is here with no plans of leaving. Will you continue on as planned or will you accept the hand that Fate had dealt you?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Final

**

Yixing sat at the kitchen table as the others finished up their breakfast. Minseok took the now empty plate that had belonged to Ji Yeon and rinsed it off in the sink, scrubbing away at the bits that had caked onto the white porcelain. Yixing continued to stare at the newspaper article. He’d read it so many times in the last fifteen minutes that surely he had it memorized by now. Worry pounded in his ears and not simply because of the rise in wolf-related deaths in the area. It had been his professor that was killed this time.

The same splitting headache that had been plaguing him for weeks now came back in full force. Dropping the paper, Yixing rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. It didn’t do any good.

“You okay?”

Yixing looked up at Baekhyun, who stood on the other side of the table. He smiled. “Of course. Given the circumstances. I’m just hoping I can catch up in this new class.”

“It sucks that it had to be one of your pre-med classes,” Baekhyun said, shaking his head.

“It’s terrible that it had to happen at all.”

“You know what I meant. We’re already worried enough about these attacks, but now you’re connected to one of the deaths. We’ll have to be extra careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“Yixing isn’t the one we have to worry about.” Junmyeon said pointedly. Baekhyun feigned a wounded look. Snickers echoed around the room, except from Minseok’s mate, Ji Yeon. Her eyebrows were pinched tight with concern. And she had every right to be. Perhaps she should even be more worried than she already was.

The headache still throbbed behind Yixing’s eyes. Relief didn’t seem to be coming soon. He stood up from the table, excusing himself quietly as he left the kitchen for his bedroom to be alone.

“Yixing?”

He stopped a few steps up.

Ji Yeon stood just inside the short hallway, arms folded in front of her with the fingers tucked underneath. Yixing thought of her as a strong person, someone who stood as a good foundation for Minseok. He didn’t know her that well yet, but he already say her as the strong type, the sturdy kind.

“Yes?”

“You guys will catch this omega, right?” She glanced off to side, probably to check that Minseok hadn’t overheard her question. The eldest wolf was more than aware, Yixing was sure of it. The connection between a mate and their wolf was strong, indescribably so from the stories he’d heard. If he was honest, he was a bit jealous that Minseok was the first to be mated. The hope he had, however, was that she would not be the last. Once a pack started finding their other halves, it was a domino effect. His time would come, sooner or later.

Yixing mustered up a smile that he hoped came off as reassuring. “There’s nine of us and one of him. Eventually, we’ll find him.” Accepting that answer for the time being, Ji Yeon nodded and walked back into the kitchen. As soon as she was out of sight, Yixing dropped the smile and swallowed thickly. He headed up the rest of the way to bedroom and shut the door.

Tense energy tingled through his feet as he sat on the edge of his bed. They were aching to move, to pace in hopes to work out the nerves, but he didn’t want to concern his brothers who would certainly hear it from the floor below. A run was out as well. As soon as any of the others got a whiff of someone shifting to wander through the woods, they jumped in to join. Only Minseok had the talent to get away clean.

Honestly, that was the least of his worries if he were to go running.

He wasn’t a killer. He wanted to help people. That was why he was studying medicine, why he wanted to be a doctor. But lately… These headaches were never ending, plaguing him over the last several weeks. And then there were the blackouts. Moments of time where he couldn’t remember what had happened. No one saw him during those times. Though he didn’t have to ask when he saw the pack after an episode. He was usually questioned where he had been himself. And he never had an answer. Not a truthful one.

No. This couldn’t have been him. There was another explanation for what was happening, both with the killings and with himself. It would just take time to figure it out.

**

Your fingers clenched tightly to the textbook against your chest. All morning you had been spending time at the library, reviewing last week’s vocabulary in an effort to distract yourself. Unfortunately, in a place like this with a wild animal running around killing people, escaping the whispers and rumors was not an option. It seemed that everyone was discussing the latest tragedy. And it made sense with how close it hit to the university.

“I hear her body was found in pieces.”

“I’m surprised they even found a body with all the animals that live in the woods.”

“Some of the hunters are talking about going out to kill the animal before it kills someone else.”

“No way. Did you see the pictures someone took of the paw prints in the dirt? That thing has to be huge. Like a bear.”

“There’s no way its as big as a bear.”

“I didn’t even know there were wolves in the forest.”

“What? Did you think it was all bunnies and squirrels?”

Unable to take it anymore, you’d slammed the textbook shut (gaining annoyed glares from those around you as if they weren’t the cause of your inability to utilize the library in the way it was meant to be used) and headed out. It was mystifying to you, the way others would talk about what was happening, like it was sports game or a thriller on TV.

Professor Xui was strict and stern, but she was also admired by the students. The “tough love” type. Though you personally had never been in any of her classes, you did know who she was, and you’d cried when you’d heard the news. Naturally, the university was on top of how to move forward. You’d groaned audibly when you’d read the email that the classes would be combining. Your human physiology class was already close to capacity. They had moved your session into one of the larger science rooms where freshman chemistry classes typically took place. Goodbye uncomfortable wooden desks, hello overly tall lab tables and bar stools with no back support.

You were one of the first to arrive at the lab, giving you the pick of the lot. One of the front tables was free so you settled there. You continued to clutch to the textbook that should have been opened to the page written on the white board in front of you. It was hard to let go. This thick, overpriced book wasn’t going to protect you from anything. And besides, you had no reason to be afraid. You didn’t go into the woods. You weren’t the kind to hike or camp or go near the trees for any reason. The flannel shirt you wore was simply because it was comfortable. You were absolutely fine.

Rolling your eyes at yourself and the silliness that was the track of your mind, you let go of the book and flipped to page thirty-four. Other students filed in as the seconds ticked closer to the allotted time. Professor Jiang, a short, salt and pepper-haired man with wired-framed glasses and a dad-level sense of humor, walked into the room with his old school briefcase, corners wearing thin and the metal on the push latches showing the brass base until the silver coating. The duet of the latches still made you jump even after fully expecting it.

“Good morning, everyone.” Professor Jiang adjusted his glasses. A nervous twitch he completed at the beginning of every class. All it took was five minutes into his lecture and he developed the steel nerves of an alligator wrestler. Pulling a pencil out from your bag, you barely paid attention to the rest of Jiang’s announcement. “I know it's difficult to process, but we’ll all get through this together. For the new students, I will be available for anyone who needs help adjusting to the new teaching style. And I- Oh. Hello.”

You looked up to see what the interruption was.

A late comer had entered the classroom, the door slowly closing behind him. Slim yet athletic, the newest student wasn’t overbearing or imposing, but he still captivated your attention, holding on to it as if his life depended on it. And he was staring right back at you with an intensity that matched your own. Mouth hanging open by the slightest of centimeters, he didn’t move or pay any attention to the professor or the other students staring at him. The muscles in his hand strongly gripped the strap of his backpack that hung off one shoulder. He was going to misalign his back if he kept doing that.

Professor Jiang cleared his throat pointedly, ending the staring contest. “New student?”

The new student blinked rapidly as he turned to the teacher. “Yes. Sorry. I got lost with the new room assignment.”

“One of Xui’s students?”

He nodded.

“That’s alright. We all need an adjustment period. Please, take a seat.”

You stiffened as Professor Jiang held his hand out in the direction of the empty seat right next to you. And that’s exactly where the new student sat. You forced yourself to keep your eyes straight ahead, concentrating a little too hard as Professor Jiang started his lecture of the circulatory system. But his words were drowned out by the shuffling beside you as the new student took out his textbook and other necessities for notes. You leaned forward, holding your neck up by your palm as you mentally repeated the highlights of the pulmonary circuit in order to be productive. The scratch of the pen against your notebook seemed louder today. Your heart seemed to be working in overtime as well. Was everything louder today? Or were you being overly sensitive to noise due to the current circumstances?

“Alright. Please, take a few minutes to go over the review questions located at the end of the section,” Professor Jiang said. It was almost a relief for his short lecture to be over. “Feel free to check with your partner at the table. To make things easier for all of us, the seats you chose today with be permanent for the rest of the semester and who you are seated with will be your constant collaborator.”

Oh, joy.

You were not the best at getting to know new people. It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t think. The other person always wanted to start off with the weather or their job or some other subject that you found difficult to bounce off of to continue the conversation. It was like your mind wasn’t built for small talk. Somehow, you’d missed the installation of pre-programmed responses that everyone else carried around. You had a tendency to go a little too deep a little too quickly. Those were the conversations you wanted to have. Those were the kind that you found easy responses for. But people tended to find your passion about Rosalind Franklin and her forgotten contribution to science a little much.

“Hi.”

The cool voice that broke through your scrambled thoughts made you jump. You hit your knee against the lab table. Careful to hide it from view, you rubbed the sore spot to make the throbbing go away. Your new lab partner must have heard it given the shy smile that pushed up left corner of his mouth, revealing a deep dimple in his cheek. As much as you wished it wasn’t, your heart beating rapidly against your ribs.

For several seconds, you said nothing. No greeting back, no “I’m trying to focus on my work”, not anything. You were silent, staring back at him like he was walking around with a windmill on his head.

“I’m Yixing,” he continued in an effort to get you to speak.

Right. Conversations were two-way streets. “(y/n).”

His smile spread even wider. “It’s nice to meet you, (y/n).”

Words had apparently abandoned you today. All you could do was nod. He didn’t take it offensively. A small chuckle pushed passed the silence.  

“Do you want to do the questions together?” he asked. “Or maybe when we’re both finished, we could compare what we got?” he suggested when you still didn’t answer.

“Compare,” you finally spat out. “I think it would be better if we compared. Afterwards, that is.” Not that you were usually the most articulate person, but this was becoming painful.

Yixing nodded. “Okay.” And with that he turned to his book, numbered the lines down on his paper and read over the questions. Taking a deep breath, you turned to your own station to do the same. Big mistake.

His natural scent hit you like a gust of wind on a previously calm day. You weren’t expecting the soft pine smell that he radiated. It wasn’t an overly musty, too-much-cologne type smell. It was subtle; the reason you didn’t catch on to it until this moment. Glancing over at you, Yixing frowned.

“You smell nice.” Oh, gosh, someone kidnap you now. Get you out of here in a fashion that would give reason as to why you didn’t come back. Did those words actually just leave your lips? Turning away from him, you reprimanded yourself for the slip up. Yixing laughed softly, making you turn to face him again.

“Thank you,” he said sweetly. “I appreciate the compliment. Especially since this building has a tendency to smell bad between the chemicals and dissections. I’m always worried that I’ll leave with some of it on me.”

You smiled at his joke. And that was where your thought train stopped. Instinct told you that an additional response was appropriate, but none came to you. You tried to rifle through the possibilities. Before you could find one, though, Yixing had turned his back down to his work.

With the awkward exchange over, you were able to make it through the five questions, writing down the answers with confidence.

“Do you want to compare?” Yixing asked as soon as you wrote the last word.

“Sure.” You slid your paper closer to the middle and shifted your body so you were partially facing him. One by one, you went over what each of you had gotten. Physiology of the human body was a strong suit of yours, more so than of your other science classes. That little bit of pride you had was perking up. It was ready to show off its penchant for knowledge. Unfortunately, this was not going to be one of those times for showing off. For the most part, you were evenly matched. Your answers were close, nearly identical in some parts.

“Professor Jiang might think we cheated,” Yixing teased.

“Well, he did say to collaborate with each other.” Good response. Appropriate response. You nearly patted yourself on the shoulder with that one. You even gave it the kind of tone that said you were merely teasing back.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“That concludes today’s class,” Professor Jiang announced. “As you leave, please stack your answer papers on the corner of the desk up here.” He patted the black top for emphasis. “Have a good day, everyone.”

Standing up, the sounds of stool legs scraping against the scuffed tile echoed through the large room behind you. Once your textbook was zipped up safely in your bag, you reached for the paper. Yixing swiped it up first.

“I’ll take it up there for you.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

You might not have been the only one blurting out thoughts before you stop them. A slight pink hue bloomed on Yixing’s cheeks. You were left there speechless as he hurried to the front, dropped off the papers, and left the classroom.

Dazed was an understatement. You didn’t know what to make of what had just happened. So, you ignored it. It was probably nothing anyway. Checking your watch, you calculated the amount of time you had until your afternoon sessions. There was a long break in between. The smart decision would be to hang out somewhere on campus to ensure that you actually went to your afternoon classes. But you needed quiet. Somewhere with no whispers about the woods or comments about the college’s new schedules. The only place you were guaranteed to find that was in your apartment. The building was a couple blocks away, a short walk no more than five minutes. You would have plenty of time to head there and back.

The front door was unlocked when you arrived. A bad habit from your roommate. She didn’t see the need to lock it if she was home and awake. You, on the other hand, clicked it tight and double checked it before stepping in deeper to the apartment.

Ran was sitting at the table, eating noodles and scrolling through a site on her laptop while her phone played a soft melody led by a pipa. It was a dreamy song, soft and comforting, like what your parents used to play for you after a nightmare.

Sighing to yourself, you sat down across from Ran and let your bag fall off your shoulder and to the floor. You hadn’t taken your computer with you, so the loud clump wasn’t one to panic over.

“How was class this morning with the new students?” Ran asked over the music.

The two of you weren’t extremely close. Friends, but not blood sisters. Ran had been your roommate freshman year and when you started talking about moving off campus, you’d offered her the other room to cut down on cost. She’d taken it rather than risk getting a new roommate that she didn’t like. You were similar some ways and vastly different in others. It balanced out, though, and you got along to the point where neither of you kicked up a fuss about cleaning the rooms or washing the dishes. You simply cleaned up after yourself. It was a co-habitation of convenience.

You shrugged. “It was fine. We’re all partnered up now, which is a little awkward, but I’ll survive, I guess.”

“Are they cute, at least?” Ran said with a smirk.

Yes. “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying that much attention.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Reaching over to the stack of envelopes, Ran plucked the one off the top and handed it to you. “I picked up the mail this morning. Thought you might want to see what came for you.”

Your stomach whirled like it was in a tumble dryer. The envelope had a familiar red emblem of a brick clocktower stamped in the top left corner. With a shaky hand, you took the envelope and ripped open the top. The nicely folded letter slipped out easily. Your eyes scanned the black letters. When they finally sunk in, you slumped back in your chair with a sigh.

“Oh, no.” Ran frowned. “They didn’t reject you, did they?”

You shook your head. “No, not out right. They want to see how well I do this semester before giving a final decision.”

“Well, that’s not too bad. It’s not a no.”

“It’s not a guaranteed yes either.”

Closing her laptop, Ran crossed her arms. Her lips were pursed, eyes down on the table. “You could just stay here. I mean, they have a pretty good medical program and you said that this was where your parents had met-”

“I don’t want to stay here,” you stated firmly. “There’s no reason to.”

“Your aunt is close by.”

“She wants me to do what I want. If that means going to medical school far away, then so be it. I’ll stay in touch with her. Visit when I can.”

“Well, I hope you get in.” Ran stood up and stretched. “On a brighter note, Hae In and I are going out tonight if you want to join us.”

You shook your head. “I’m good. Thanks for the invite, though. I appreciate it.” Whenever Ran and Hae In went out, things tended to get a little crazy. You were sure they had fun and they always came home safe. You just didn’t think that it would your kind of scene. She left a few minutes later and you were finally granted that peace and quite you had been searching for. Well, the quiet, at least.

Peace was nowhere to be found. Stress was rearing its ugly head as you stared at the letter. Ran was right, it was wasn’t a flat rejection. They were, at minimum, interested in giving you a chance. As one of the most prestigious medical universities in the country, you were eager to walk their halls.

The fact that it was far away from any reminders of your life was the bigger incentive. Releasing all the air your lungs were holding on to, you folded the letter back up and tucked it away in the front pocket of your bag. All you had to do was make it through this semester with no hiccups and you would be fine.

Shouldn’t be too hard. There was no reason for any of your plans to be derailed or for you to change your mind.

As long as you survived the next few months, that is.

[sooibian]

Twist of Fate

image credits: @/exoxoxoid (twitter)

Pairing: Criminal Psychologist Kyungsoo x Crime Reporter OC (Miss Jung) ft. Minseok, Jongin

Description: Much against your wishes, you are back in your hometown to write about the murders of two young women - your only ticket out is the criminal psychologist who has been assisting Superintendent Kim Minseok with offender profiling.

Inspired by: Sharp Objects, The Fall and this moodboard by @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ 

Tags/Warnings: Serial killer AU - angst, grief, loss, murders, descriptions of anxiety, reactive and attentive immobility, asphyxiation, indicative of humiliation, explicit and graphic situations. Please do not read onward if any of this triggers or upsets you!!!!

Word count: +3.7k

A/N: ...i need to stop watching crime dramas. 

@leewalberg​ @his-mochi-cheeks​ @changshapatrol​ 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

When you left Cheongsong, you’d left for good. Or so you’d thought.

Ten years later what brought you back was not your family, for you had none left, but the murders of two young women that had left the quaint little town, surrounded by hills artistically contoured by apple orchards, shaken and distraught.

Everyone knew each other in Cheongsong which should have made Superintendent Kim Minseok’s job easier, but he was caught in an ugly snare of emotions which seemed to have clouded his critical thinking faculties. These were people he knew closely, people he’d grown up with. For him, pointing fingers at any of them meant carving permanent cracks in relationships that were stronger than most familial ties.

“Off the record, then”, you shoved your scratchpad back into your purse, turned off the recorder with a click and looked at Minseok square in the eyes, only to find the amiable, portly, catlike footballer you went to school with hidden in their farthest, darkest depths - reduced to a mere whimsy. The memories of the man who sat before you, now seemed abysmally distorted by the colossal burden of the unknown.

“It never is.” He chuckled darkly, took a measured sip of his bourbon and rolled it around his tongue before swallowing. “Never thought I’d see you here again.”

“That makes two of us. Write about killings in your hometown...it makes an impact because it’s personal, my boss says. We’re to...exploit the fact that nobody substantial is covering this.” You recited, eyes trained on the sliver of grime on the coaster.

Minseok clicked his tongue in disapproval and enquired, “Where have you been staying?” 

“A guest house by the Country Club.”

“So, not the Mansion”, he remarked callously.

Wounds that had barely healed came undone at the mention of your family home. Your throat tightened and you felt as if you had been shanked with a broken bottle in the stomach. The ill fated house reeked of misfortune, grief and loss. Its inhabitants had fallen one by one like lined up dominoes. This curse had forced you out to start a new life in Seoul.

“It’s still quite well kept, you know.” Minseok stated matter-of-factly.

Taking a deep swig of your bourbon, you explained earnestly as the burn of the liquid blazed down your throat, “Minseok, I want nothing more than to get out of here. So, please, give me something. A nugget.” 

“I don’t want to be quoted on this. Or misquoted. This is all new to me as well. Two bodies in three months? Can you imagine?” Overcome with emotion, he ran a hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

You put a comforting hand on his and offered in a voice laced with empathy, “Listen, from where I stand, all you need is a new line of inquiry and linking these two murders would give you one. I’ve seen the pictures.” 

You swiped through images of two dark haired women on your phone - Park Soojin and Seo Jinri. Both of them were in their late twenties. They lay in their own beds as if soundly asleep, modesty protected only by sheer white blankets, crimson tinted lips parted ever so slightly, freshly painted nails shining in dim lighting. And roses. There were a couple of red roses placed by their side as if in condolence. The blood curdling strangulation marks around their necks made them look like dreadfully divine paintings. 

“They could be sisters”, you observed with moist eyes, voice hushed to a whisper.

Contemplating on the images with pursed lips, Minseok responded with a tight nod and waved a 50,000 bill in the waitress’ general direction.

“Where’d you find these?” He asked in a threateningly calm voice, averting his eyes from your apparently disagreeable gaze.

“You know that’s confidential”, you replied, half-shrugging, nonchalant.

“I’ll drop you home”, he muttered, and shoved his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. 

With a defeated sigh you grabbed your purse and phone and proceeded to follow Minseok out of the only bar in Cheongsong, “No, it’s fine. I could use a walk.”

Suddenly, he turned around, searched your eyes for a fleeting second before admitting begrudgingly, “Kim Jongin. He’s the prime suspect in the first case. The murder of Park Soojin.”  

Your legs froze. “What?! Why?”

You knew Kim Jongin, like you knew everyone else in this town. His family owned one of the biggest apple orchards in Cheongsong but Kim Jongin never manifested that in his behaviour. He was known to be friendly, kind, sensitive. Almost too sensitive some would say.

“That’s it. That’s your nugget. Here.” He handed you a business card bearing the name ‘Dr. Doh Kyungsoo’. “He’s been informally assisting with offender profiling. He’ll talk to you. Seems like he’ll talk to anyone, really. Now get in the car, it’s freezing out here.” 

.

.

.

“Dr. Doh, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

Dr. Doh Kyungsoo’s home office was a detached unit with a separate entrance, distanced from his main residence. It was exactly the way you’d imagined a psychologist’s office to be - light coloured walls, comfortable chairs, soft pillows, insipid artwork. Neat and clean, fostering a sense of comfort for visitors. 

The Doh family had moved into Cheongsong shortly after you’d left for Seoul. Coming from old money in search of some peace and quiet, they invested in agricultural distribution, Cheongyang Pepper farms and assumed one of the more significant estates to live in while their only son, Doh Kyungsoo, was sent abroad to pursue higher education.   

“Please, call me Kyungsoo.” He took your hand in his, gave it a good, firm shake and gestured you to take the chair opposite his.

“I think ‘Dr. Doh’ should be fine”, you stated plainly and he acknowledged with a curt nod.

“What brings you here?” Asked Kyungsoo, holding your gaze, hands folded in his lap as he leaned back into his chair with a soft sigh. 

Grimacing, you waved your recorder at him, “They say you’re my ticket out of this godforsaken place.”

Minseok had helped you set up the meeting so you thought it proper to waive cumbersome introductions and niceties and Kyungsoo seemed very much in sync with your line of thought. 

He smiled, “I’m merely a bystander, Miss Jung, with slightly more informed opinions, maybe.”

“Informed opinions are what I’m here for, Dr. Doh.” You smiled back, “Superintendent Kim Minseok doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“He’s a man shackled by bureaucracy and I’m a constant reminder of his team’s staggering incompetence, If I were him, I wouldn’t like me very much either.”

“Do you think there’s a link between the two murders?” 

He nods. “I’m fairly certain there is.” 

“But the police won’t look into it? Why is that?”

“Nobody likes a serial, Miss Jung. Besides, there’s no way the team could cope with the increased workload of linked inquiries. There are over a hundred statements, documents, officers’ reports waiting to be read and actioned. And the case of Park Soojin is a peculiar one.”

“Kim Jongin’s girlfriend? How so?”

“She was the ex-wife of a member of the parliament. This case does absolutely no favours to his image so he needs it solved immediately.” 

The word solved was treated to air quotes.

“So, they’ve ruled him out as a suspect?”

“His alibi checks out. They suspect Kim Jongin.”

“Why? Just because Kim Jongin fled immediately after her body was found? How did the police react to that?”

“Because Jongin fled, his brother was asked to provide DNA which turned out to be a familial match to the DNA gathered at the crime scene. But that does not necessarily mean it’s the killer’s DNA. Miss Park was in a relationship with him. There’s no surprise his semen was found in her esophagus.”

“Do you rule him out as a suspect then?”

“I prefer to reserve my comment.”

“Why do you think he fled?”

“Grief drives us to do irrational things, Miss Jung. Maybe he just needed a breather from everything that was going on here. Can’t say for sure.”

“You’re certain the perpetrator is male?”

“Yes, I am. The perpetrator is male and an athletic one at that. Probably in his late twenties or early thirties. While the strangulation marks may be different, the pathologists reports suggest petechial haemorrhage in both cases which means he strangled and released and then strangled again, over and over. He’s either a sadist, or his hand lacks strength. You try it, grab my wrist.”

He extended his arm towards you and you politely declined. So he wrapped his right hand over his left wrist and held firmly for a few moments. 

“Forty seconds. It’s amazing how quickly the hand tires!” He exclaimed as if awestruck. It was the maximum emotion the inscrutable Dr. Doh had displayed during the course of this interview.

“Victims of strangulation are known to make a mess of themselves. They defecate and / or urinate..”

“That is correct. The bodies were both found posed and clean. Which means he spent hours after, washing them and cleaning the sheets, even. There could be a religious angle to this. Washing away their sins...maybe his own, considering he probably gets into the bath with them.”

He pushed a cup of long gone cold tea towards you, but you shook your head. As a crime reporter, you thought you’d seen it all but the possibility of this being the work of a serial killer was a first for you. Also the fact that it was happening in the place you grew up in was starting to gnaw at you a little more aggressively than you’d liked. 

“I’m not going to lie, Dr. Doh, this gives me pause for concern. Do you think there is a sexual angle to these killings? As far as I know, the victims have shown no signs of any such abuse.”

Kyungsoo sipped on his tea and worried at his lower lip briefly before responding. “I believe he’s the kind to take pictures, momentos from the scene. They sustain him between killings.”

“And the roses? There were..”

“Three next to Park Soojin’s corpse and two next to Seo Jinri’s.”

“Does it indicate -”

“- a countdown? Perhaps.” He studied your face intently and offered you tea again. This time you complied and then proceeded with the interview.

“There was no sign of forced entry in either cases. The police think the perpetrator was known to the victims.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You see, Miss Jung, the problem is that these cases were treated as self solvers from the get go and that’s where it all went wrong.”

His smile at the end of that sentence was one of finality, somehow indicative that you’d overstayed your welcome. To be able to milk him for all he was worth, you were going to let him loose for the time being.

Clicking your recorder off, you tilted your head to the side, smiled politely, “Well, thank you for your time, Dr. Doh.”

“It’s been a pleasure.” 

While he was walking you to the front door, you couldn’t help but ask, “Dr. Doh, if I may, were the victims known to each other? Were they friends? Acquaintances?”

“That’s for the police to investigate. They were both in their late twenties, highly qualified -  one was a solicitor the other a botanist, both tan with double eyelids, a little over 5 feet”, He took a step closer to you, instinctively you took an uncomfortable step back but found yourself trapped between him and the front door. His burgundy turtleneck smelt like warm, sweet gingerbread mixed with the contrastive redolence of something woody. He put his hand on the clip that held your hair in a bun, an elusive smile dancing on his lips as he allowed your hair to freely ripple down to your waist. “...and they both had dark, waist length hair”, he whispered into your ear, sending a frisson of fear down your spine.

You looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights as he slowly retracted. Eyes locked with yours and face contorted in a fierce frown, he concluded grimly, “You fit his profile.”

.

.

.

Unable to sleep well that night, you went for an early morning run the next day and took a detour to Minseok’s residence. After discussing your findings with him, he offered you a close protection officer who’d moonlight to provide you security just until they’d made an arrest. Which meant you’d have one uniformed officer standing guard outside your guest house all day. You knew that they wouldn’t have done this for you if your family name wasn’t Jung.

“Kim Jongin’s back in town.” Relief seemed to have smoothened the lines on Minseok’s forehead and there was a boost of confidence in his voice when he broke the news to you.

“Are you planning to take him in?” you asked, sipping on coffee in Minseok’s kitchen while he made you some eggs.

He looked victorious and his brows shot up to his hairline as he explained animatedly, “We have enough evidence to put him on trial. I’ll get the warrant in two days.” 

“Hand to your heart, do you think he did it?”

“Yah, I’d never be able to make an arrest like that. If you promise not to quote me, I will say that -” 

He peered at you questioningly and you eased him with a reassuring nod, “Go on.”

“This looks like the work of an outsider.”

.

.

.

Later that evening, you found Jongin seated alone at a table in the bar. Beaten, as if overcome with exhaustion he was crouched over a glass of scotch, a silent tear sliding down his cheek. You sat next to him and ordered him another drink.

“I killed her.” He stated simply, eyes trained on the empty glass in front of him. To see a man whose taste buds didn’t even agree with coffee back in the day downing hard liquor effortlessly, broke your heart.

“What?” you enquired, sparing no effort to lay the edge off of your voice.

“That evening, we’d had a huge argument. She- she’d been wanting to move out of here for the longest time and I never agreed. It was as if she knew!” Burying his face in his hands, he broke into full blown sobs. It was a while before he composed himself and spoke again, “Here, you have your story. Following a trivial spat, a small town chaebol kills his girlfriend.”

Shaking your head furiously in disagreement, you held him tightly by his shoulders, “This is your chance, Jongin. Speak your truth. Tell them that you didn’t do it. They’ll need to hear it from you!”

Jongin looked you in the eyes, his own brimming with tears, “I was twelve when my puppy died and I couldn’t seem to get over it. My mother gave me this book which said the only way men can get over grief is by showing indifference, I tried that with Soojin.”

Brows furrowed, you asked, “And?”

“It worked for an hour.” He chuckled darkly, “I loved her and I always will. At this point I just don’t care. I should’ve listened to her. Maybe I even deserve this. I see the way people look at me, I- I feel written off, ostracized. A goddamn parliamentarian wants me in. My truth won’t survive their might.” 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you started to talk him out of potential suicide, “Jongin -” 

But he raised his forefinger to silence you. Trembling, he asked, “I just find myself wondering, can you die from a broken heart?”

.

.

.

Kim Jongin had turned himself in.

Acquiescent to the slow wheels of justice, moderately satisfied with the first draft of your article, and concerned about your safety, your boss agreed to call you back to the Seoul office, at least until there were further developments in the case.

During the course of your stay in Cheongsong, you drove past the little street leading up to the Mansion several times but not once did you glance in its direction. Before your flight the next morning, you decided to pay the house a little visit to say a final goodbye. The first snow had laid a fleecy white blanket on the ceramic roof that gleamed from the light of the astral light of the night sky. You were flooded with memories of chasing butterflies in spring, climbing the only mango tree in town which still stood proud in your backyard, the stories of monsters and ghosts your parents would read to you in the blanket forts you’d build together… blissfully unaware that in a not so far future this was all your life would entail - monsters and ghosts.

The great oakwood front door turned on its hinges and a familiar aroma of caramel apple hotteok invited you in. They say every house has a peculiar smell and yours smelt of caramel apple hotteok, even after all this time. Your lips curled upward at the strangeness of your sentiments. The demons you tried so hard to escape all your life seemed like bad dreams and what was left of this place within you was just the good. The pure, unadulterated joy that was once your childhood. 

You proceeded to the kitchen to fetch yourself a cup of hot water, and that’s when you heard a knock on the front door. You ignored it at first thinking it was just the wind but the knock came again. Louder, this time. You left the kitchen to answer the door.

“Dr. Doh!” you exclaimed, utterly surprised to see him here at this hour.

“Miss Jung”, he smiled sheepishly, “I went by the guest house but the guard said you were at the Mansion. I just wanted to say goodbye, I’m leaving for Gyeonggi in the a.m.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Uh - I’m sorry, please, come in.” 

He followed you to the kitchen and said apologetically, “I hope I’m not imposing.”

“No, not at all! Never quite realised just how massive this house actually is - It was starting to eat me up. Gyeonggi, you say?”

“Oh, it’s a cursed life as an independent consultant, Miss Jung. I’m mostly living out of a suitcase..”

“I wish I could say differently. So your presence here was requested by Minseok’s team?” You asked as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

“No, I arrived just about a month before the first murder. My parents passed in a car crash three years ago. So I decided to sell the estate and the pepper farms.” He explained, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“Would you like some tea? I brought some tea bags with me. I don’t know which tea it is, though.” You offered, mindlessly pouring hot water into two cups. 

“Sure” , he nodded.

“So did you?”

“What?”

“Manage to sell everything? And I’m sorry - uh about your parents.” 

You didn’t feel sorry. What you felt was an inexplicable weight in your chest rendering you breathless. Your heart started pounding erratically and your mind clouded over with a sense of impending doom as you went about the mundane task of making tea. 

“You seem a little out of it, Miss Jung. Is something bothering you?” He got off his chair and guided you to yours as your legs threatened to give away.

You sipped on some warm tea to steady yourself and said to Kyungsoo, “Oh, no it’s … It’s just this house. Maybe you were right, Dr. Doh. This isn’t a good time. I’m sorry but I might have to ask you to leave.”

Kyungsoo didn’t react. At all. He stood still, eyes fixed on your trembling frame.

“Park Soojin wasn’t his first kill”, he whispered.

“What?” you asked feebly, still trying to get a hold of yourself.

Kyungsoo sauntered over to the kitchen counter and brought you a glass of water. “Pay attention, Miss Jung. Park Soojin wasn’t his first kill. He was sloppy with the first one and it was only by a stroke of luck that he managed to get away. So he planned better with Soojin. Got even better with Jinri.”

Startled, you looked him in the eyes and he gave you a smile that raised goosebumps on your skin. 

Unperturbed Kyungsoo continued, pacing leisurely in the kitchen, a spine-chilling hint of exhilaration in his voice. “His criminal sophistication indicates that he understands criminology and knows police work. Unfortunately, Miss Jung,”, his voice dropped and you suddenly felt shackled to your seat. Squirming, but unable to make any big movement like reaching out for something that was heavy or sharp or both, “The tragedy is that he’s always believed he’s inferior to these women. But -” 

Kyungsoo levelled his face with yours and grinned with a glimmer of victory in his eyes, “for every tragedy, there is a happy ending.”

It took all you could muster to hold it together and dash for your purse to retrieve your cell phone. But you didn’t find it in there. 

“Is this what you’re looking for?” asked Kyungsoo, teasing as he pulled your phone from the inside pocket of his overcoat and handed it to you. 

You tried to turn it on to no avail. Voice as steady as could be, you said to him, “Please, please just leave!”

He took two easy steps towards you and you found yourself encased between his body and the wall. “Well then you shouldn’t have let me in! Tell me something, how could the close protection officer have given me your whereabouts if you dismissed him immediately after Jongin’s arrest? Haven’t you learnt since you were a little girl - always keep your guard up. Think before you speak. Did you think you were invincible?”

He took your hand in his and guided you back to the kitchen table. Eyes brimming tears, body trembling, and mind overcome with dread you followed him as if he were the pied piper. The familiar scent of gingerbread wafted up your nostrils making you nauseous.

As soon as you took a seat at the table, he put on his gloves, and lay a bottle of red nail polish and a red rose before you.

“Just think about how you can be with them again, Miss Jung. And don’t worry...I’ll be gentle.”

***

A/N: YES! you’re absolutely right! i just wanted to write turtleneck murderer Soo -_-

[arctic-comet]

Osblaineweek2021, Day 2: Prose

I love book quotes. Looking at quotes is one of my favorite ways to to inspire myself to write more fic.

Here’s a small collection of book quotes (and recs!) of where I’ve “found” June and Nick.

This post contains spoilers for the following books/series:

- Lover Mine by JR Ward

- The Wrath and The Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

- A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas

Lover Mine by J.R. Ward

Summary:

John Matthew has come a long way since he was found living among humans, his vampire nature unknown to himself and to those around him. After he was taken in by the Brotherhood, no one could guess what his true history was- or his true identity. Indeed, the fallen Brother Darius has returned, but with a different face and a very different destiny. As a vicious personal vendetta takes John into the heart of the war, he will need to call up on both who he is now and who he once was in order to face off against evil incarnate. Xhex, a symphath assassin, has long steeled herself against the attraction between her and John Matthew. Having already lost one lover to madness, she will not allow the male of worth to fall prey to the darkness of her twisted life. When fate intervenes, however, the two discover that love, like destiny, is inevitable between soul mates.

It's basically a paranormal love story between two warriors. He's really young (although he's actually a reincarnation of a very old vampire warrior, but he doesn't know that), and she's like 300 years older than him. In this book, she's been raped and abused by a guy who also used to bully him. She escapes, but he saves her life. She's hungry for revenge and wants to die after achieving that goal, but of course eventually changes her mind. In the end he actually serves her rapist to her on a silver platter so that she can kill him (sound like anyone we know?). He literally holds the guy down while she kills him.

They're my ultimate favorite ship in this series, and IMO their relationship eventually develops into one of the strongest ones. This series is a bit of a hit-or-miss for most people, because the language and the writing style are pretty ridiculous in all seriousness. If you decide to read this, I recommend starting the series from the beginning because John and Xhex meet for the first time several books before this one, LOL.

Here are some of the quotes that make me think of Nick and June:

“Besides, the story of the two of them was written in the language of collision; they were ever crashing into each other and ricocheting away—only to find themselves pulled back into another impact.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“As his ears rang and his heart broke for her, he stayed strong against the gale force she let loose. After all, there was a reason why here and hear were seperated by so little and sounded one like the other. Bearing witness to her, he heard her and was there for her because that was all you could do during a fall apart. But God, it pained him to see how she suffered.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“...the only thing that had tethered her to the earth had been him and it was strange, but she felt welded to him on some core level now. He had seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most insane, and he hadn't looked away. He hadn't judged and he hadn't been burned. It was as if in the heat of her meltdown they had melted together. This was more than emotion. It was a matter of soul.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

The Wrath and the Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

Summary:

One Life to One Dawn. In a land ruled by a murderous boy-king, each dawn brings heartache to a new family. Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan, is a monster. Each night he takes a new bride only to have a silk cord wrapped around her throat come morning. When sixteen-year-old Shahrzad's dearest friend falls victim to Khalid, Shahrzad vows vengeance and volunteers to be his next bride. Shahrzad is determined not only to stay alive, but to end the caliph's reign of terror once and for all. Night after night, Shahrzad beguiles Khalid, weaving stories that enchant, ensuring her survival, though she knows each dawn could be her last. But something she never expected begins to happen: Khalid is nothing like what she'd imagined him to be. This monster is a boy with a tormented heart. Incredibly, Shahrzad finds herself falling in love. How is this possible? It's an unforgivable betrayal. Still, Shahrzad has come to understand all is not as it seems in this palace of marble and stone. She resolves to uncover whatever secrets lurk and, despite her love, be ready to take Khalid's life as retribution for the many lives he's stolen. Can their love survive this world of stories and secrets?

This is a young adult fantasy romance, and basically, Khalid is a lot like Nick. He’s made mistakes that he needs to own, but at the same time he’s forced to commit atrocities he doesn’t want to do. He hates himself and doesn’t believe himself to be worthy of love, and yet he falls in love with Shazi. He's viewed as the villain of the story by everyone aside from Shazi and a few other characters until almost the end of the 2nd book.

“I love you, a thousand times over. And I will never apologize for it.”

―Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. to want something so much—to hold it in your arms — and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“When I was a boy, my mother would tell me that one of the best things in life is the knowledge that our story isn't over yet. Our story may have come to a close, but your story is still yet to be told.

Make it a story worthy of you”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“In that moment of perfect balance, she understood. This peace? These worries silenced without effort? It was because they were two parts of a whole. He did not belong to her. And she did not belong to him. It was never about belonging to someone. It was about belonging together.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

“A boy who'd thrived in the shadows.

Now he had to live in the light.

To live . . . fiercely.

To fight for every breath.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

Summaries:

Book 1

Feyre's survival rests upon her ability to hunt and kill – the forest where she lives is a cold, bleak place in the long winter months. So when she spots a deer in the forest being pursued by a wolf, she cannot resist fighting it for the flesh. But to do so, she must kill the predator and killing something so precious comes at a price ... Dragged to a magical kingdom for the murder of a faerie, Feyre discovers that her captor, his face obscured by a jewelled mask, is hiding far more than his piercing green eyes would suggest. Feyre's presence at the court is closely guarded, and as she begins to learn why, her feelings for him turn from hostility to passion and the faerie lands become an even more dangerous place. Feyre must fight to break an ancient curse, or she will lose him forever.

Book 2

Feyre survived Amarantha's clutches to return to the Spring Court—but at a steep cost. Though she now has the powers of the High Fae, her heart remains human, and it can't forget the terrible deeds she performed to save Tamlin's people. Nor has Feyre forgotten her bargain with Rhysand, High Lord of the feared Night Court. As Feyre navigates its dark web of politics, passion, and dazzling power, a greater evil looms—and she might be key to stopping it. But only if she can harness her harrowing gifts, heal her fractured soul, and decide how she wishes to shape her future—and the future of a world cleaved in two. With more than a million copies sold of her beloved Throne of Glass series, Sarah J. Maas's masterful storytelling brings this second book in her seductive and action-packed series to new heights.

Fantasy romance with explicit sex scenes, and book 2 is a lot better than book 1. Our main character Feyre falls for a really boring fae guy, but also meets the hottest guy she’s ever known. The first guy of course isn't the real love interest (this is a twist this author loves to do). They all end up as prisoners, and the 2nd guy saves her life when the 1st one is totally useless. He also makes her hate him as he does it because he has to. After getting out, she tries to make her old relationship work, but it doesn’t, and guess who swoops in?

I do see some Nick in Rhysand (in addition to his role in the love triangle). They’re both traumatized and prefer to keep a lot of their feelings to themselves. I also see some of the same selflessness in both of them. Rhysand wants Feyre to choose him because she loves him, but he’s willing to accept that she may not, and doesn’t tell her that they’re pretty much destined to be together (it’s a supernatural thing, and he will suffer a lot if she decides she doesn’t want him).

“Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me.”

―Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Because," he went on, his eyes locked with mine, "I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone."

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“He thinks he'll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

[scarletarosa]

Pluto

Greek god of death; King of the Underworld

Pluto (also Pluton or Hades) is the king of the Greek Underworld (which is called Hades) and is the lord of death. He presides over funeral rites and defends the right of the dead to their due burial. Pluto is also the god of the hidden wealth of the earth, from the fertile soil which nourishes the seed-grain, to the mined wealth of gold, silver, and other metals. One of the gods who works alongside him is Thanatos, who holds power over gentle deaths (while Pluto is death in general). In one myth, Pluto was said to have brought a plague to inflict Thebes after the king refused to give proper burials to warriors, which depicts Pluto’s harsher aspect of delivering death and justice. Pluto was also usually regarded as an infertile god, for a god of death should, by his very nature, be incapable of siring any children.

Pluto was depicted as a dark-bearded, regal god. He was depicted as either enthroned in Hades, holding a bird-tipped sceptre, or as the giver of wealth, pouring fertility from a cornucopia. The Romans named him Dis, or Pluto, the Latin form of his Greek title Plouton, "the Lord of Riches."

Myths: According to Hesiod, Pluto’s parentage is said to be of Kronos (god of time) and Rhea (goddess of earth and motherhood). He was said to have been devoured by Kronos along with four of his siblings while the infant Zeus was secretly hidden away by Rhea after his birth. When Zeus later returned and fought Kronos, his siblings were spat out and together they drove the titan gods from the heavens and locked them away in the pit of Tartaros. When the three victorious brothers then drew lots for the division of the cosmos, Hades received the third portion, the dark gloomy realm of the Underworld, as his domain. However, in another version of Pluto’s parentage, it is said by the Orphics that he is actually the son of Nyx (goddess of night) and Olethros (god of doom). In my workings with Pluto and Nyx, they have said the latter myth to be the true version, which makes Pluto the half-brother of deities such as Eris (strife), Philotes (unity), Hemera (daylight), Aether (god of the aether and upper light), etc.

In another myth, Pluto had desired a bride and petitioned Zeus to grant him one of his daughters. The god offered him the young Persephone, the daughter of Demeter. However, knowing that Persephone would resist the marriage, he assented to the forceful abduction of the girl and carried her away on his chariot as she cried out for help. When Demeter learned of this, she was furious and in great despair, causing a great dearth to fall upon the Earth until her daughter was safely returned. Zeus was eventually forced to concede lest mankind perish, and the girl was fetched forth from the Underworld. However, since she had eaten the pomegranate seed after being deceived by Pluto, she was forced to return to him for a portion of each year.

Apollodorus in the following passage summarizes the contents of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (quoted here in the following section). Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 1. 29-33 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.):  

“Plouton [Haides] fell in love with Persephone, and with Zeus' help secretly kidnapped her. I begin to sing of rich-haired Demeter Semne Thea (Reverend goddess) - of her and her trim-ankled daughter [Persephone] whom Aidoneus rapt away, given to him by all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer. Apart from Demeter Lady of the golden sword (khrysaoros), Giver of glorious fruits (aglaokarpos), she was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Okeanos and gathering flowers over a soft meadow, roses and crocuses and beautiful violets, irises also and hyacinths and the narcissus, which Ge (Earth) made to grow at the will of Zeus and to please the Host of Many [Haides], to be a snare for the bloom-like girl...The girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to take the lovely toy; but the wide-pathed earth yawned there in the Nysion plain, and the lord, Host of Many, with his immortal horses sprang out upon her...

He caught her up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. Then she cried out shrilly with her voice, calling upon her father, the Son of Kronos [Zeus], who is most high and excellent. But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tender-hearted Hekate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaios, heard the girl from her cave, and the lord Helios (the Sun), Hyperion's bright son, as she cried to her father, the Son of Kronos [Zeus]. But he was sitting aloof, apart from the gods, in his temple where many pray, and receiving sweet offerings from mortal men. So he, that Son of Kronos [Haides], of many names...was bearing her away by leave of Zeus on his immortal chariot--his own brother's child and all unwilling. And so long as she, the goddess, yet beheld earth and starry heaven and the strong flowing sea, and still hoped to see her dear mother [Demeter] and the tribes of the eternal gods, so long hope calmed her great heart for all her trouble; and the heights of the mountains and the depths of the sea rang with her immortal voice: and her queenly mother heard her.”

Appearance: A man in his 40’s with tanned skin, black hair, a short black beard, and black eyes (only the irises). He wears a black toga and often has a solemn expression.  

Personality: Pluto is very solitary, withdrawn, just, fair, serious, aloof, brooding, and compassionate. He requires his followers to respect the resting places of the dead, to show humility, and to overcome their toxic ways. He is one who understands that we all must go through the depths of suffering if we wish to gain wisdom and become better people. Yet this is something very difficult to do, so he is glad to assist along this path if one politely requests him to do so. Pluto is also a healer, but only in regards to mental sufferings due to loss and regrets; other things are not specialties of his. Pluto is a highly respectable deity and will be the guardian of many of us once we die (unless we enter a different kingdom). One should not speak cruelly of him or disrespect him due to his role as a divine king, lest they seek to invoke his wrath.  

Personal experiences: Pluto embodies a feeling of immense loneliness, and had even bound himself to the Underworld as he felt that he could belong nowhere else. But in doing this, he is unable to leave this realm for very long and has made it very difficult for him to find a companion. So, in an act of desperation, he kidnapped Persephone when he saw her in a meadow one day and carried her off to his realm as she raged against him. He pleaded with her to listen and be understanding, but of course, someone who has been kidnapped does not respond well to this. So Pluto kept her locked up in his palace hoping that she would eventually calm down and come to want to understand him, but instead, Persephone became angrier and even more desperate to escape. This soon led Pluto to force himself upon her, and he continued this for ages. After a very long time of being kept prisoner, Persephone finally managed to be rescued by other deities, but she was not the same and had lost her connection to flowers due to her stay in the Underworld. She has been traumatized ever since and harbours great anger towards Pluto and any who change the myths about what had occurred. Pluto, however, is not the same as he was before and is repenting for his actions.  

Nowadays, Pluto is a better version of his old self but still pains over his solitude. However, he does receive some company from some visiting family members such as Nyx and a few of his siblings, like Philotes. However, one is not advised to enter the Underworld through astral travel unless they are highly experienced and are granted permission to enter since this realm is not a pleasant place and some areas can even cause insanity. Despite this dark, abysmal domain, Pluto is a very understanding and patient god who is not quick to judge others and helps us to overcome our past evils in order to be reborn. Pluto also has a very strong understanding of pain and solitude, and what these emotions can turn a person into, so he can assist in healing these burdening emotions from our hearts.  

He has explained that Pluto is his true name while Hades is simply the name of the portion of the Underworld which he rules over (as the Underworld is immensely vast and has multiple kingdoms such as Kur, Duat, Helheim, etc). His role as king of Hades is to watch over the spirits of the dead who enter his domain; where they are then tormented in order to overcome their wrong-doings, negative habits/emotions, and harmful obsessions. It is not like Hell, since only evil spirits go there and they are tortured for eternity in far worse ways; the Underworld is moreso a place of harsh lessons and rebirth before one is allowed entrance to Elysium. The torments of the Underworld are also all symbolic and assist the spirit in realizing what they must change about themselves before they can become anew, yet this process usually takes many years (sometimes decades or centuries). Pluto also has power over death itself (since he embodies it) and has explained that the god Thanatos is an aspect of himself, representing a small portion of his own power. Pluto also has the power of illusion, which makes him able to cause spirits and humans alike to see whatever he wants them to see (even able to manipulate one’s astral senses).  

Some of Pluto’s Epithets:

Adámastos (Unconquerable)  

Adesius (The Grave)

Agelastus (Melancholic)

Aidis (The Unseen)

Amænthis (The One who Gives and Receives)

Ánax (King)

Eubulius (The Consoler of Sorrow)

Feralis Deus (The Dismal God)

Larthy Tytiral (Sovereign of Tartaros)

Moiragetes (Guide of the Fates)

Nekrôn Sôtêr (Saviour of the Dead)

Opertus (The Concealed)

Polydegmôn (Host of Many)

Pluton (Lord of Riches)

Offerings: ginger ale, spiced rum, well water, ginger root, plums, mushrooms, eggplant, beetroot, parsnips, black peppercorns, bones, ash, scorpions, vipers, clay pots, black candles, styrax incense, chalk powder, black or grey rags, sceptres, scythes, black or dark purple cloaks, ebony wood, black leather moccasins, moleskin, old silver coins, bronze, silver, ivory, rust, obsidian, onyx, jet, charcoal

The Underworld

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Right, Wrong (500 Celebration)

500 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ubbe/Reader, mentioned Ubbe/Margrethe, implied Ivar/Reader I’m sorry I can’t help myself

Prompt: From the Quotes category: “Angry, and half in love with you, and tremendously sorry, I turned away.”

Word Count: 2818 (I had my reasons to say these were not drabbles, y’know)

Warnings: A horrible amount of angst, lost love, unrequited love, passing mentions of injuries/violence.

A/N: Hi, first Ubbe piece of this celebration! I hope this is okay, I apologize in advance if it isn’t. Also, not the fluffiest or most Ubbe-positive of fics, fair warning.

“I want you there with me.” Ivar tells you, and though you are surprised, you try not giving it away.

“Why?”

“Why should I have any reason, hm?”

“You expect me to stand next to you, much like Astrid does next to Harald, without any explanation as to why?”

His smile is cold, they always are. And cruel, and they usually are that too.

When the day comes and you do stand next to Ivar as he faces Lagertha and his brothers, you cannot help but wonder if it isn’t Ivar the cruel one, but the Gods. Or, at least, not the cruelest, not when you can see the face of a dead man in Ubbe, and hear his voice when Björn speaks.

For all the certainty you hold that the choice you made that day so long ago was the right one, you still fail to hold Ubbe’s gaze for anything more than a few moments.

You approach slowly, moving seamlessly in between the warriors and shieldmaidens that load their belongings onto the ships; and you take those few moments -those last moments- to look at him.

The evidence of the Saxons’ violence is still on him, in the eye so swollen you could think of Odin then, in the bloodied wounds that are still to heal. In the bruised pride that makes his shoulders stiff and his posture straighter.

Hvitserk is the first of the brothers who notices you standing by the pier, a few feet away from the ship. His warm eyes meet yours before travelling down your figure, stalling on your hands.

Your empty hands.

It is something like sadness, and something more, something like hesitance, that clouds Hvitserk’s features before he nods his head once in acceptance and turns back around to let you say goodbye.

Ubbe doesn’t turn around, he continues working on the last preparations for the trip, and you almost don’t want to know if he is unaware of your presence.

If he is, then you remain as insignificant as you have always feared. If he isn’t, then he believes you remain as malleable as you never intended to be.

You grit your teeth, and turn your back as well.

When you walk by Ivar, who sits there watching his brothers leave, his hand reaches to grab at your forearm.

You do not care if it is a command to remain so Ubbe knows you have chosen to stay or a recognition of what you have left behind, you still wrench your hand from his grasp and continue walking.

It doesn’t matter, the world will never stop for the sake of a shieldmaiden’s helpless heart. And, in your own way, you are grateful it doesn’t.

Because your heart may want some foolish things, but you are more than your heart.

And when they announce the war for Kattegat is inevitable, and the time comes when the tension tightens like the old cords in Sigurd’s oud and you have to bear your sword against the man you once loved; you do.

____

He should know better by now than to try and go past the greater forces and speak directly to an enemy. That is what you are, after all. You chose the side he believes is wrong, and when the battle dawns you will be nothing but another shieldmaiden to strike down.

If you ever were anything more than that, even before this.

Still, Ubbe is here, sitting next to the fire with his elbows on his knees, his face grave and serious, his eyes unnaturally blue even against the warm hues of the flames.

And you take a seat at his side, even if only because this might as well be the goodbye you were too angry to give him that first time.

“Why did you do it? You were supposed to come with me,” He starts, and even if you feel the piercing blue of his eyes set on you, you cannot turn to meet his gaze. “What reasons did you have to stay with Ivar?”

You wonder why it is now that he wishes to know your reasons, now that war is inevitable, now that there is no turning back.

A deep breath, and, “The same reasons I had to leave with you.”

Your voice is colder than you intended, and a cruel part of you is more delighted than you intended when Ubbe recoils as if you had struck him.

But the softer, compassionate, meek woman Ubbe once promised to love is dead, if you ever were her in the first place. If she died, she did so piece by piece, when her sister died in Kattegat, when the man she loved married another woman, when the people she knew her whole life died before her in battle. But maybe, maybe you won over her, when you were promised revenge by dangerous blue eyes and were granted it, when a chest made up of a broken heart met one that was hollow to begin with, when with each battle the taste of blood started being sweeter and sweeter.

“You didn’t even ask me if I was going to leave with you, you didn’t even doubt that I would get on that damned boat,” You tell him, turning to meet wide eyes and trying not to grit your teeth at the misplaced betrayal that shines in them. “I heard you telling your brother how you would leave and take me with you.”

“I thought yo-…”

You interrupt him, because you truly have no interest in hearing what he thought when he had another sharing his bed and his heart, when in his grief he decided to forget you were a person too.

“You thought wrong. You thought I would follow, you thought I would do as you wished.”

“I did,” He confesses, voice grave and low. That wasn’t what you were expecting, but when you turn to look at him, Ubbe looks pointedly ahead. “I was wrong, and I regret it.”

“Yet you still come here, expecting me to follow, expecting me to do as you wish.”

“Fighting to defend Kattegat is the right thing to do. Ivar only wants to pull us all apart. The sons of-…”

“Defending Kattegat is no more righteous than attacking it. Do not try to make this about right or wrong.”

“But you are on the wrong. Ivar is on the wrong.”

The shrug you give speaks the words he doesn’t want to hear, I don’t care.

He offers the only answer he can, “I do not want to fight you, I do not want to face you in battle.”

You shrug, “It isn’t your choice to make, though.”

A twitch of anger in his expression, but that is all he gives away. A part of you wants to push until you see anything human, anything that isn’t this façade of a smoke figure of a man long dead, if he ever existed.

You look so much like your father, they always tell him, and even you see Ragnar in the shape of his face, in the blue of his eyes.

A long time ago, you would have argued he was not like Ragnar in any other way, at least not the Ragnar you remember, the Ragnar of empty eyes and bruises on his wife’s face. The Ragnar that left, the Ragnar that returned with smoke to fill his sons’ heads with and nothing else.

Now, you aren’t so sure, if only because of how much he wants you -and them, it is always them. Them who always speak of legacy, them who always remember a dead man as something more than what he was, them who always insist all sons are good for is retracing bigger footprints- to believe that he is like his father, that he is keeping him alive by just existing. And what you have now is talks of dreams he never had, and people left behind -you, overlooked you to chase after her even when you offered him your heart and so much more, and her, left her alone for so long even if she deserved someone that stayed-.

You are so much like your father, you want to tell him, if only to hurt him, but you aren’t so sure it will anymore.

“This isn’t your choice either, you are following Iv-…”

“I am following no one.”

There it is, the slightest quirk of his mouth that speaks of rage and a strange brand of cruelty. It is human, even if it is painful to see. It is him, even if it isn’t like him at all.

“I always knew you had your arrogance, I never thought you’d be blinded by it.”

“If I am blinded, then I will be easy to strike down in battle,” You stand up, spare one last glance, “I guess we will see when the time comes, hm?”

____

Focused on the mead you swirl in your cup absently, you barely notice the man that takes a seat at your side until he speaks,

“You love him, don’t you?” Sigurd asks, his particular kind of gentleness lacing his words, but something more, something like longing, making the question something more.

You lift your gaze to the newlyweds, smiling absently at the sight of their happiness, and you understand the longing in Sigurd’s voice.

“It does not matter what I feel.” You tell him, but in the humorless curve of his mouth you hear the words he does not retort with.

Standing up and signaling your goodbye with a squeeze of the Prince’s shoulder, you walk up to Ubbe and his wife.

He turns to you with a wide smile, and it is in that oblivious happiness that you can find it in you to not feel bitter about the course of Fate, it is in that open blue of his eyes that you do not find any cruelty. You bow your head, a greeting, a congratulation, and turn to his wife.

Margrethe is more guarded, and her smile is more a façade, but you understand that too. She knows, you know she does.

“May the Gods bless you both, and give you many happy years together.”

Before you are to turn around, the girl’s hand reaches for you, and grasps your forearm gently. You meet her eyes, and Margrethe leans closer, smile small but warm as she whispers,

“Thank you.”

Your hand covers hers for a moment, before you let go and continue walking.

You still wonder what she thanked you for. You still wonder if she curses you now, for not having done something to stop that union, if only out of selfishness, to spare her the pain you suffered then and she suffers now.

You still wonder, after so long, if you should have thanked her instead.

Kattegat is enveloped in shadows, distant fires doing nothing to stop the darkness that approaches at a fast pace. The few that are planning on leaving are frantic, loading their belongings onto their carts and their horses.

You find him much like you did that time, the mark of battle still present on him and the strain of loss making his shoulders tight with tension.

Only this time you stand behind him and find it in you to call his name.

Ubbe turns around immediately, eyes searching for you and almost immediately finding you. You have no time to understand the emotion that shines in familiar blue eyes before his big hands are on you, moving you back against the shadows.

He looks around before he focuses on you, trying to gauge whether anyone saw you. You almost want to ask him why he thinks you are important enough for any of these people to recognize you, but he beats you to a question.

“Why are you here?”

“You don’t have to die with them, you don’t have to run.”

“Ivar won’t accept me here, and you know that,” Ubbe retorts, though he still walks closer to you. With the shadows as heavy as they are, with the veil of night as enveloping as it is, you have never seen him stand taller, have never felt smaller. “You heard him, you were there, when he said I am no longer his brother.”

“I-I can-…”

“You can come with me,” He tells you, and though you are thankful for the interruption, because you had no answer to give; you are stunned into silence by the offer, “The Bishop will help us find refuge in Saxon land. Come with me.”

For a moment, a moment too alike that sharp breath of a warrior that feels the cold iron of a sword go through him, you are once again madly in love, willing to risk it all. You are once again foolish, and malleable.

For a moment, you want to say yes.

Yet the sharp breath leaves your lips, and you are once again standing behind the man you love, hearing him speak so surely of how he will take you from the world you know. You are once again standing on the steps of that damned boat.

And your answer never changed, because you never did.

Because he did.

“No.”

It is in the soft breath, in the widened eyes, in the mix between surprise and grief; that you find nothing but more certainty in your answer.

“I will not follow you, Ubbe,” You tell him, softer now. Though, this isn’t a softness born out of gentleness, born out of love. This is the shallow and slow breaths of a dying woman, the one that would have been able to make the right choice. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can, you have no reason to stay in Kattegat.”

“I do,” You promise, but your voice still holds that defeated softness, that unwilling gentleness. “I have my own ambitions, my own dreams.”

“At Ivar’s side?”

The smile you offer is bitter, and maybe a tad cruel, “Of all the ways I imagined I would become Queen of Kattegat, this wasn’t it. But I do not resent the Gods for the path they have woven for me.”

“You have chosen your own path.” He doesn’t hesitate to accuse.

“Maybe so,” You concede. It isn’t worth the fight. “And you have chosen yours.”

Maybe that is the goodbye you should have said that day when he left for Kattegat, or maybe before then.

Maybe it isn’t a goodbye at all, because there is nothing but memories to say goodbye to.

Maybe it is something else, a new beginning to the lives you will lead, a first meeting between the people you have both become long ago, but neither was brave enough to admit seeing in the other.

“I truly loved you,” You tell him, not sure why now of all times you choose to let him know. “Maybe in some way I love you still. But it changes nothing.”

Familiar, the twitch of his mouth when he looks away, the fire in his eyes in the low light, the way he receives your love without uttering a word.

You are the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, just like us; he would tell Ivar, so often it seems that he still talks about it, about how Ubbe insisted on reminding him he was the son of a legend as much as any of them.

We are the sons of Ragnar, is that not enough for any man? He insisted on that last calm before the storm, pretending he hadn’t spent so many nights with you confessing he did not know the kind of man his father was but still knew he had to admire him.

In the name of Ragnar! Björn had bellowed as the battle for Kattegat commenced, and Ubbe echoed the call, as if the man they called a father had been something other than human, something other than a man, as if they had forgotten of his failings in their loss.

You take a step back, feeling like it should be reversed when you walk into the light and leave him enveloped in shadows. Ubbe watches you raptly, his eyes so unnaturally blue as they trace your movements; but says nothing.

You smile your last goodbye, “You are a son of Ragnar, before you are anything else. I hope that is enough, Ubbe.”

He reaches for you when you move to leave, but you both know it is inevitable. His hand is warm, warmer than it has ever been, on your forearm, and his eyes are sad, sadder than they have ever been, as they gaze upon you.

Your hand reaches for the side fo his face, and the kiss you press against his lips is more of a parting gift than it should have ever been.

His hand drops from your arm, and you walk away. And continue walking, all the way back home.

____ ____ ____

Thank you so much for reading, I hope this was okay even if it wasn’t that Ubbe-positive. I would love to hear your thoughts! Stay safe, love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless​  @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld @stupiddarkkside @northumbria @sagyunaro @aprilivar @ritual-unions-gotme

[mrsgreenworld]

Son Yaz Episode 23

"İmkansız" ("The Impossible") aka It's Worth It

It's strange but after the last episode I've been thinking a lot about Arrow. Sure I'm a big Arrow and Olicity fan. Hell, they're the reason I got a Tumblr account. When the show ended, it was tough. Because it had been a part of my life for several years and it resonated with me deeply and it had given me a sense of community and belonging. So I feared I would never feel it again. But then Sen Çal Kapımı kinda attacked me, pulled me in and it was so great - feeling this passionate about something again. And despite SCK having turned into a mess and huge disappointment, I'll always appreciate those early days and keep them in my heart. After all, it brought me to you @lolo-deli and @djemsostylist. This alone is something I'm very grateful for. But my disappointment with SCK left me wondering yet again: would I ever find something worth watching and shipping and obsessing over? I got my answer when, after having seen all the amazing gifs by @aslibekroglu, I finally gave in and started watching Son Yaz. And it's completely taken over my life ever since. Not in a way SCK had back in the day. By similar to the way I felt when I was watching Arrow. I know it may seem kinda crazy because Son Yaz and Arrow are two completely different shows. Like, two shows cannot be any further apart, almost to the point of polar opposites. But I've realized that, if we look past the genre, language, the storytelling and all other differences, there's something very similar in the heart and core of both these shows. I looked at Akgün in the last episode and holy shit how much he reminded me of Oliver Queen. And I'll gladly explain why. Let's get down to it.

Akgün

So how the hell did I end up comparing Akgün Gökalp Taşkın and Oliver Queen? It's very simple really (at least it is in my mind 🙈😆) and I'm surprised I haven't made this connection before. Because both Akgün and Oliver are essentially the same type of character - a tortured hero, tainted by darkness and burdened with past sins but ultimately a very good person with a pure heart, bright light inside and infinite capacity to love. Both of them don't hesitate to make sacrifices for those they love, they can be borderline suicidal when it comes to protecting their loved ones. Sure Oliver had a mission and wanted to make a difference by helping people and protecting the whole city. Akgün doesn't have these ambitions. But then again Son Yaz isn't a superhero type of show. But if we remove the "super" part and focus on just the men, we'll see that what they both crave is actually very simple - love and family. I also think that Akgün reminds me of Oliver more now because in season 1, despite his difficult childhood and the loss of his mother, there still was some innocence left in him, he wasn't truly touched by the darkness. It changed when he shot his brother and helped Selim beat up to death and then buried a man, possibly still alive. Taking someone's life robs a person of innocence. Same thing happened to Oliver. However, he's way more acquainted with darkness, given how he dropped bodies left and right at the beginning of his vigilante career. It's clear that Akgün and Oliver had very different journeys but it's impossible for me to ignore the core similarities.

Another thing Akgün and Oliver have in common is their desire to not just protect their loved ones from the dangers and evil of this world, but also from themselves, their own darkness. They deem themselves unworthy of the women they love. Akgün even straight out confessed it to Yağmur in the moment of panic. That's the reason he left - he didn't want to taint her with his darkness. But then again, he's never truly left her or given up on her. He's given up on himself. He's doomed himself to loneliness.

I must say that episode 23 in general made me love Akgün even more. We saw not only his devotion and fierce love for Yağmur but his love and loyalty to Soner. Their brotp is one of the best things on this show and I sure hope they won't destroy it.

The Rocket Team (yes, the name is now canon!!!!) reunion gave me all the feels. Seeing these three grown men turn into teary eyed mess just melted my heart.

Throughout the whole episode we saw Akgün trying to be there for everyone. He didn't want to argue with and go against Selim but he also didn't want to betray Soner. The scene where Akgün met with Selim and told him that Soner and Naz had gotten married, made me so proud of him. He was the reasonable one in that moment. That's a first 🙈😆 At the end of the scene Akgün also managed to make me laugh. Really laugh. I didn't think I would be laughing any time soon this season but his wild gestures, his frustration with Selim and his "just listen to me for once" - all of that was funny to watch.

Just like I said, Akgün was supportive and tried being there for everyone, that's why he was immediately on board with the wedding. Soner had to only ask and it's like the three years of not having seen each other were erased in that moment. Akgün didn't try to talk Soner out of it, didn't ask any questions. He did remind Soner of the consequences but it was very cautious, filled with love and concern, without overstepping and disrespecting Soner's choice.

Then there was Yağmur... Akgün and Soner going to search for her and then the moment when Akgün found Yağmur in that storage room - that was for sure the highlight of the episode for me. First we saw Akgün and Soner working together as a well-oiled machine. Perfect partners in crime 😎 And after they split, the moment when Akgün stopped for a second and just smelled Yağmur... Damn. Such a parallel to Yağmur smelling him in episode 22. It doesn't matter how many years have passed, what they've been through, how much they've changed, doesn't matter if there's anger and pain and so much unsaid between them - they still just feel each other. Their connection is there, strong as ever. And Alperen totally knocked it out of the park, showing Akgün's panic and raw fear the moment he found Yağmur. He'd never seen her like that and it shook him to the core. I swear he looked ready to cut his chest open, take out his heart or, I don't know, lungs and give to Yağmur, just to make it stop, just to make her okay again 😭😭😭

When Naz tried to tell Akgün about Yağmur and what she had been through, Akgün didn't want to hear it. Because he couldn't bear it. But in the end he was forced to witness Yağmur's breakdown. The first one of many others to come. And when they come, he won't be able to stay away any longer.

Yağmur

Yağmur's journey this season is all about healing and acceptance. She has to live through those 5 stages of grief. Just like Meredith Grey once said: "There are five stages of grief. They look different on all of us. But there are always five". And I already said in my episode 22 review that Yağmur locked herself in denial. Naz in her conversation with Akgün confirmed it. But ever since Akgün showed up in the restaurant, it's like the floodgates of Yağmur's grief have been open. She started spiralling, diving head first into anger. All her anger was directed at Akgün. And even though Yağmur came to visit Akgün in prison to say that she was no longer angry with him, her biting words, the "I don't love you anymore" and the following panick attack - all of that only proves that she's still just as angry with him as she was, simply because she's still very much in love with him.

I think Yağmur's bargaining stage of grief revealed itself with Naz, when Yağmur went to the hotel to bring Naz home. In Yağmur's head there is this idea that she has to protect Naz, she's convinced that she can save her cousin from suffering Canan's fate. But Naz refused to go with Yağmur, therefore making Yağmur feel helpless and maybe even abandoned. Already in this fragile and vulnerable state, Yağmur completely lost it after having heard gunshots. She finally started accepting that something's wrong. And it's so important that, when she finally said the words "I don't recognize myself anymore", Akgün was the one she said those words to. It's like she had been waiting for him all this time. Naz told Akgün that Yağmur needed someone to tell her what had happened to her. Akgün's that someone. Only with Akgün back in her life, Yağmur will finally accept her mother's death and then start moving on.

Selim

I don't have much to say about Selim in episode 23 other than a string of curses 🤬🤬🤬.

I've never loved this character and barely even liked him. Canan made him bearable and with her gone... Well, we've got what we saw in the last episode. I wonder how he was never kicked out of his job. Not only was he completely unhinged but also absolutely stupid and unprofessional during that mission with Sare. Then him forcing Akgün to choose between himself and Soner. And of course him storming into Yağmur and Emel's house, yelling and demanding to see Naz. Mister, it's not your place to demand anything, let alone act all righteous and question Emel as a mother. I swear, I wanted to rip his tongue out 😠😡😤

That's pretty much all I have to say about Selim in the last episode. Well, I've got more to say but I don't see it moving forward without me spitting profanities and turning violent.

A few honourable mentions:

🖤 Naz and her attempt to talk to Akgün about Yağmur.

🖤 Sare was kinda funny and she deserved a cookie for putting up with Selim. Glad they didn't make her stupid and she figured out that she was being followed.

🖤 Cihan trying to help Yağmur with her panick attack was very sweet. It was a nice first meeting. Although him being her secret admirer is kinda creepy and makes zero sense for now. I really hope they're going to show how it all started. Speaking of Cihan. I'm kinda conflicted about him. On the one hand, he's sweet and gentle with Yağmur, pretty hot when he was speaking German but also cunning and cold-blooded when he tipped off the Mertoğlu about Soner's whereabouts. And in episode 24 he's going to team up with Akgün to avenge Soner?🤔 Damn, the guy's making my head spin.

And that's pretty much it. Görüşürüz!

[hopeaterart]

Mario Odyssey: Paper Kingdom AU

Or: The AU where I adapt Paper Mario characters into a kingdom in Mario Odyssey because while my brain is small, it has a big mind that keeps thinking up new ideas. This tackles the kingdom’s backstory, it’s travel brochure, why Mario ends up going there, and the frankly ridiculous political context he stumbles into. I might tackle the characters in another post.

Backstory

A long time ago, a creature made out of shadows and thin as paper rose out of an island. Calling itself- or herself- the Shadow Queen, the malevolent spirit could wield the power of seven stars, and her heart was pitch-black and full of chaotic hatred. She reigned over the land with an iron fist, terrified painted shadows at her command.

Until one day, a small faction of her own people turned against, led by four heroes and eight mages. They studied her magic, and turned it against her, folding themselves like paper get close to her and stealing her stars to destroy her body, the eight mages using their magic to separate her heart from her spirit

Enraged, her spirit lashed out, cursing the four heroes into suffering the same fate as her, reduced to spirits enclosed in coffins just as she unleashed the full power of her heart. But before she could turn her wrath on the other rebels, the eight mages sacrificed themselves, turning their souls into pure energy and setting it on the Shadow Queen’s heart, ripping it out and sending both the heart and the soul of the Shadow Queen into a deep sleep.

The only thing left was a prophecy- a warning. If a cruel monster and a gentle maiden marry each other in a farce, the Chaos Heart will rise again. If this happens, the Shadow Queen’s rise is imminent, and she will take over the body of the maiden. The only way to stop her is to find her Seven Stars, and use them to destroy her soul once and for all.

The throne of the Paper Kingdom is left symbolically empty, and the country is ruled by a council.

-

Travel Brochure

Population: Sparse, but plentiful

Size: Wide

Locals: Shapeshifters

Currency: Paper fortune teller shaped

Industries: Construction, stories

Temperature: Average  73 °F

A craft for the ages

Multi-level: The Paper Kingdom is made of multiple levels carved within the plateau, and all of them have something to offer. From the charming beach town of Rogueport to the looming Castle of Chaos, this place is vibrant and full of carefully crafted layers.

Rich History: The Paper Kingdom’s history is something for the ages: A demon rising out of the earth, her own people standing up against her, a battle ending in tragedy, and a prophecy! And they know it too! Their own history is so rich and captivating, they transformed telling people about it into a spectacle. If you’re ever in the need of someone to give a grandiose speech, a Paper Kingdom storyteller is what you need!

Origami Festival: If you visit the Paper Kingdom during their fall season, you might bear witness to the Origami Festival! While considered unorthodox and dangerous, Shapeshifters recognize origami as an incredibly powerful type of magic, allowing one to become anything their heart wish. As such, they have festivities centered around this concept that lasts a week, where they put up tons of different and incredible origami displays celebrating the concept.

-

How it fits in the game

For it’s location, it would be a decently sized island between the Luncheon Kingdom and Snow Kingdom, and would be the last place you go to before Bowser’s castle. From above, it would look rectangular, and most of it would be very elevated (think of a plateau, but in the middle of the ocean.) While it would seem small at first glance, the truth is that most of the earth is hollowed out, and there’s a lot of communities that live underground. You would be able to visit the two surface ones (Rogueport at the base of the plateau, and Castle of Chaos (Equivalent to Castle Bleck) on top of it) from the start, and at least one additional area under Castle of Chaos would unlock after the main story.

As for it’s place in the story, a wedding needs an officiant, and Bowser decided to get a storyteller from the Paper Kingdom because they’re known to give quite touching speeches. Bowser was originally planning to make his announcement of his marriage to Peach, take someone by force if he got denied, and leave the kingdom in disarray as punishment for denying him.

So you can imagine his surprise when not one, but two storytellers volunteered to be his officiant: Dimentio, royal jester and local agent of chaos who’s starting to find the current situation in the Paper Kingdom boring because it’s stagnating (albeit because they want to stop the hostilities temporarily for the upcoming Origami Festival), and the Beldam, eldest of the shadow Sirens and actively trying to resurrect the Shadow Queen. 

Let’s be clear, here: Neither of them are really interested in Bowser’s marriage, but both are after the power of the Chaos Heart, which has the potential to arise from this union: Dimentio to create even more chaos, and Beldam to harness it’s power and bring the Queen back to life. He picked the storyteller who had actual experience with being an officiant: Dimentio, who officiated multiple noble weddings- and left a fuming Beldam behind. In her rage, she decided to make the King of Koopas not choosing her as an evil marriage officiant everyone else’s problem and promptly started freezing everything in sight.

And that’s where Mario and Cappy come in, looking for Power Moons...

-

What’s going on?

A few weeks before Bowser shows up, the wedding of Blumiere, the son of an important count, and his human girlfriend Timpani (I don’t know from where she could be, probably New Donk CIty), was happening. However, in part due to a sinister prophecy that foretold the rebirth of the Chaos Heart if a furious monster lord (Blumiere is not human, and he has quite the unstable temperament) and a fair and lovely maiden (Timpani is a bit shy, cares for everything around her, and is nothing but kind) got married, and in part due to being a racist fuck, Blumiere’s father tried to stop the marriage by lethally attacking the bride.

Big mistake.

Blumiere ended up flying into a rage, messily killing his father with his bare hands and the assistance of a surge of magic, and destroyed the wedding venue. He then took Timpani, who was dying, to the origami craftsman, who earned himself a reputation of defying nature’s law by creating Olly and Olivia for an Origami festival, which was. Not planned. He then more or less forced him to heal his bride. 

The craftsman was absolutely able to say no: Olly brought to life multiple office supplies and all of them are ready to attack on sight, but he still went and healed up Timpani, albeit altering her physical appearance permanently due to having to heal her up using Origami Magic. Olly does not take his father being threatened into helping someone well, and barges into Castle of Chaos two weeks later and self-proclaim himself king with the assistance of the office supplies, which he dubs his Legion of Stationery, because of a perceived disrespect toward his family.

He is twelve.

Blumiere- who renamed himself Count Bleck following his father’s death- is understandably outraged, and denounces Olly with the support of his companions. Said companions are: his wife lady Timpani whom he (and most of the kingdom) adores, a small bat-like woman and his spokesperson Nastasia, the strong but dimwitted warrior and champion O’Chunks, the robotic but emotional Mimi who works in banking, and local shit-bastard jester Dimentio. This is due to Bleck being a direct descendant of one of the eight mages that sacrificed themselves, and he’s forced to make a claim to the throne to be taken seriously in trying to stop Olly.

He does not want to take the throne.

So now, there’s a twelve years old and a pissed off count who murdered his father in a blind rage fighting over the throne of the Paper Kingdom, neither of them know what they’re going to do next, and no one is happy about this situation. The instability allows a third party to make an appearance and grab for the throne: The X-Nauts, a race of robotic aliens led by the tyrannical Sir Grodus. Their goal? Resurrect the Shadow Queen and use her power to remake the Paper Kingdom, and eventually the planet, in their image.

The good news is that neither Olly nor Bleck want the X-Nauts to succeed. Bleck because he knows they’re planning on resurrecting the Shadow Queen and he does not want that to happen, and Olly because Grodus’ second in command was mean to Olivia once. This means that they are able to put their difference aside, which means there’s still hope an all-out civil war can be avoided.

Speaking of Olivia, poor girl think her brother went evil and wants to reign over the Paper Kingdom like a tyrant. This is understandable, as he’s a irritable twelve years boy with six killing machine at his command and also starting his emo edge lord phase, and she’s a literal ray of sunshine. As such, Olivia decided to find other people willing to stop Olly, Bleck and Grodus from burning the country to the ground in their squabble, not realizing that, as the leader of this group, she is also making .a claim for the throne.

She is also twelve.

And now, there’s Beldam losing her shit over being turned down and freezing everything into unmoving sheets on the walls. Ironically, this common enemy might just be what’s needed to calm everyone down.