#I cannot avoid the fact that there's less answer to this than you might expect for having been playing since march--

[blujayonthewing]

Hi I'm OCmaxxing right now and obviously that means I have to inflict that upon others too, so I wanna ask!

Now that you've had a decent chunk of time to play and develop Felix, is there anything about him that surprised you as you've warmed him up? Any details or traits that you had originally planned, but organically became something else once you started playing him? Any details that you hadn't planned, but somehow came out anyway? How has he changed since you first came up with him?

He's playful!! I guess I don't know that it's extremely surprising that he's playful and has a sense of humor in general, and he's still generally reserved/quiet among company, but he's definitely got a cheekier vibe than I expected him to-- he's a bit of a tease when he's relaxed/ comfortable, adding little quips to discussions and such. Part of his whole concept is that he likes people, but it turns out this applies very much to individual people as well as People In General-- he is constantly amused (affectionate) by the rest of the party, for the most part as endeared as he is intrigued by them. I was a little surprised at how much he smiles-- just leetol grins to himself, but I think I expected more Resting Neutral Face? But he (mostly) really likes the people he's around right now, and he wears it on his sleeve. He's not as flustered by conversation in general as I think I'd originally imagined, as long as he's not the center/ focus of it. On the flipside, he's not as bad about blurting out unfortunate things as I expected or intended, although admittedly I think this is as much to do with my player cowardice as it is his character choices, lmao. He's still not, like, being polite (voluntarily says something diplomatic rather than whatever he's actually thinking), but rather being polite (not saying Anything, controlling the impulse to verbalize thoughts as they enter his head).

He handles failure worse than I expected-- or, rather, he's comfortable with failure on his own, which I knew, but feeling like he's letting others down is something he takes really hard, it turns out. We had a situation where 1) he blamed himself (understandably, but incorrectly) for things breaking bad in the first place, and 2) he couldn't roll for shit and contributed Absolutely Nothing to the ensuing encounter, and afterwards he took it upon himself to banish himself from the group for awhile when we got back to town, partly out of shame and partly, I think, out of an assumption that Fucking Off would just be the best or most preferable thing for him to do, given the circumstances. I feel like there's sort of an emerging picture with him, through gameplay and also thinking more about his backstory since I started playing him, that part of the reason he's habitually on his own is that he feels (for [reasons]) that he doesn't have much in particular to offer anyone else, which of course is fine if he's just on his own doing his own thing for his own gratification but becomes a problem when he finds himself thrust by fate into A Group Dynamic, with people he immediately likes...

Big ol acts of service love language guy. He's gonna notice and remember tiny things about you and then quietly-- anonymously, if possible-- do something nice about it, which is the kind of thing I think I really had to find out by putting him with other people and watching what happens. Felix will see an opportunity to do a small and very personally tailored kindness and say 'is anyone gonna act on that' and not wait for an answer

[darlingkirstein]

Can I ask you how you feel about the depiction of Valyrian culture in the Targaryen family, both in ASOIAF in general but more specifically in HotD?

tw / incest (it's the targaryens so yeah LOL)

sure! i love the targaryens so happy to! i think the targaryens are interesting because of how they're perceived as something greater than human — both in beauty and because of their command over their dragons. it's interesting because it enables them to get away with things that other houses are not able to do — particularly their practice of incestual marriages, which was a problem in the times of jeahaerys i/alysanne and aenys i/maegor i. marriage between siblings was typical, but the faith denounced it as an abomination, though this largely doesn't stop anything. maegor even says that the faith cannot possibly dictate those with the blood of the dragon — and though maegor is not representative of his whole family, this generally seems to be the attitude of the targaryens. jaehaerys and alysanne have no qualms with defying their parents/the faith to marry. so, their valyrian culture almost seems untouchable — no matter who disagrees, the targaryens triumph.

this is visible in house of the dragon, too, and it spreads into families outside of the targaryens as well since they've started marrying outside their house. even the non-targaryen marriages before were still related to the targaryens. the velaryons, like queen alyssa, and the baratheons, like orys and rogar and jocelyn, were connected to the targaryens. eventually, they have to start branching out to form alliances with other houses! so, the marriage of alicent hightower to viserys i is interesting to see!!! mostly because alicent does not seem to protest to the practice of sibling marriages — her children are married to each other and have children in these unions. so, i find it notable that these marriages persisted even when the influences of other families, like the hightowers and arryns, come into play. it presents itself as enduring and untouchable. in fact, when rhaenyra and daemon marry, it seems to concern the small council more for daemon's instability than it does for the incest involved. it's become so normalized in the family, an expectation that isn't worth protesting. people might remember what maegor did to the faith militant. the targaryens silence their foes.

in fact, later it is targaryens who begin to protest against sibling marriages — aegon v "egg" targaryen tries to avoid those marriages by betrothing his children to other houses, but they all protest and marry who they want anyways. his children jaehaerys and shaera were betrothed to members of the houses tully and tyrell, but rebelled against their father to marry each other anyways. this shows to me that not even the targaryens can control other targaryens from practicing this tradition of incestual unions. nobody seems to be able to fully destroy this practice, even as it grows less common. aerys ii and his wife rhaella were siblings too, and in the books, dany assumes that she would've been married to viserys or aegon, if she lived.

so it seems to be that the targaryens are portrayed as untouchable — except by themselves. in the dance of the dragons, it is targaryen versus targaryen that finally threatens the stability of the family/house. the transition from only marrying in the family was a deliberate choice for political advantage, not fully because of the influence of others — even if it might've aided them to make that decision. their culture persists through different conflicts, all the way until the total destruction of house targaryen. i think it is interesting how they seem to be above what other houses are — marrying a targaryen is the ultimate goal of a lot of people, like olenna and cersei, who discuss the targaryen princes of their time, olenna's betrothal to daeron and cersei's fixation on rhaegar.

this was a bit of a disorganized ramble so hopefully i answered your question — i really like discussing asoiaf/targaryens so feel free to ask anything else you're interested in!

[analyzing-people-like-hell]

ANALYSIS #2: 03/07/24

A second specimen to add to my collection. A very silly one as well. I hope my research is up to your silly standards as well, #2. :3

Let's take a look at the list you've provided.

Ahh, the classic tragedy of a main character. A hero without a hero's journey. Yours was rather complicated to figure out, but I think I've been able to get a solid enough grasp on you. We'll just have to see if my findings are truly correct. Why don't we take a look at your background first?

"LORE":

A starving artist. You were forced to reach for standards that you never wanted, for you're yearning to follow dreams that may never come true. Yet you strive for them despite this, ignoring the (honestly outdated) standards that people like your family have set for you. Abandoning these kind of harmful traditions would normally be beneficial, if it weren't for the fact that your family looked down on you for it. You try to ignore it to the best of your ability, but it's hard to disregard them when everyone's opinions are so evident at every second of the day. Don't you deserve to live life the way you want to? Is all this cost worth it?

People have left your life without ever giving an explanation as to why. You've gotten used to it, it doesn't seem to bother you as much as it used to, but part of you will always wonder why. There's a child that is still searching for answers. Answers you still cannot give.

Generational trauma. Just generational trauma in general. Your parents were never reliable. The fact that they expected you to be reliable to them probably just made you hate them even more. It feels fucked up. You know it could be worse, but it feels so fucked up that they couldn't even fulfill basic parental responsibilities. Is it so much to ask for them to be dependable for just one moment? For them to be on your side just once? You look at kids with better parental relationships and you hate it. You hate how it makes you want to tear your insides apart. Why couldn't they give you that same kind of love? Why were they never there? It's not fair. It never was, and I'm sorry that you've only gotten half-assed apologies from them.

I'm not here to fix the mistakes of horrid parenting though. (If I could do that I would have been telling people that condoms were a cure-all for life's problems.) What I can do is pinpoint what issues these events might have given you. So why don't we continue onward.

THE TRUTH:

You have strong values because of what you've gone through, but your identity is less developed. You have dreams, but it's almost as if they're not fully fleshed out. Tell me, where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10? It seems like you're always just following along with the world. Things come at you, you don't seek for them. You honestly don't know what you should be seeking for exactly. You know what to avoid, you know what to do, you know the rules; you just don't know what game you're even playing. But you keep throwing your dice. Eventually one of those rolls has to get you what you want, right?

You don't deal with your issues either. Maybe you just don't know how to deal with them. Problems come to you and you sit with them because it's all you were taught. Taught to sit with them and wait until they go away. You can only sit with a caged beast for so long before it breaks its bounds. That thing has already managed to cut you while caged; you are praying it does not kill you when it is free.

I think that same beast has taught you anger. It pisses you off the same way the world pisses you off. Everything does in a way. It's all unfair. It never was fair. Why didn't you deserve better? Why do you get dealt a monstrosity like this? When is it your turn to feel whole again?

You're also one of those people with that weird self esteem issue: the one where you feel completely worthless to the world yet also feel like you're better than everyone else. You're probably a little narcissistic and have heavy swings between hating yourself and being full of yourself. How're those depressive episodes going for you, by the way? Are you still sure you don't need to talk about those with anyone? Actually, why do you rarely tell anyone about these things? Is it the fear of being a burden? Are you scared that the people you tell will start seeing you differently, maybe they'll know too much about you? Or maybe it's the fear that no matter what you do, you'll never be the person you want to be, so you might as well keep going as you are? All valid fears, but none should be valid excuses.

Those aren't the only things holding you back though. Another is your focus. It's hard for you to focus on anything because it all feels so meaningless to you, especially when it feels like you would fit so well in any other universe. You were meant to be saving worlds, not working a 9 to 5. You don't know what you'll do if you end up stuck being ordinary. You want to live. You want to have fun. You want to make life worth it. You need to. 

I'm afraid I can't promise that you'll be able to get all your wishes, but I can promise that one day you will find a way to make life your own. And I have all the proof I need to show you exactly that.

YOUR BEST TRAITS:

You truly are an artist at heart. You're creative and innovative, which helps you make solutions to problems that most might not even think about. Your insight on situations is valuable because of the fact that you're willing to follow your gut. Without your perspective, the world would be losing a vital mark in the pages of its history, so keep using it as your canvas.

You really are a true friend. When you care about people, you make sure to keep their needs in mind. You look out for people when nobody else is. You make sure to keep their best interests in mind while still keeping your own values. You might not be very vocal about it (especially since words might not be your strong suit), but you certainly put in all the effort you can through your actions. You won't ever need words if you continue showing your honesty and loyalty. Those will always be a thousand times more valuable than any word you could find in an age-old dictionary.

You are the heart of your story. When people talk about determination and strength, you are the best example in the room. You lead with your intuition and it makes you powerful because of it. Not all natural leaders have a good heart, so the fact that you are willing to fight for your values no matter the cost really does say something. Once you have your heart truly set on something, it's almost impossible to get you to waver. You might not exactly know what you're fighting for yet, but you'll be unstoppable when that time comes. In the meantime, you must keep trusting in your gut. It's hard to find people who hold themselves in such a way. Don't lose hold of that.

If it weren't for people like you, there would be a lot less hope in the world. You are what makes humanity so beautiful. You are flawed but you never let those flaws stop you. You've made mistakes, you know that, and you are doing everything you can to make up for those mistakes. What makes all of this so much more meaningful is the fact that you stay true throughout all of it. To be truthful and flawed is one of the most admirable traits you can find in any human. You shouldn't be perfect, because perfection is fake, and at least in my opinion, it is much more honorable to fall in authenticity than to rise through forgery. You are a hero. Heroes will always fail. That does not mean it is the end of their story.

Also you're very goober-core :3

And with that, I think I'll leave my thoughts here and take my bow.

With utmost gratitude (and hopefully utmost accuracy),

Dr. WZ

[thepurpleroom-if]

K Larue (The Partner)

Gender: Male or Female

Age: 27

Height: 5'9"/175 cm (M) or 5'5"/165 cm (F)

Role: Long-time partner and best friend.

Detailed personality description:

Cheerful and friendly. Their cheerfulness lightens the atmosphere even in the darkest of cases. Know the names of every person in town and remember each one of them (but seriously, they remember each one of them).

Sweet and thoughtful. Known for their considerate nature, always ready to lend a listening ear and offer support (basically a go-to person). Their thoughtfulness extends to small gestures that show they genuinely care about the well-being of their friends and coworkers (even though they hate some of them).

Clingy. Will make every effort to stay very close to you 24/7. If they find you not coming in for work, they will knock on your door, demand that you open the door, or they will kick it down.

Mischievous and impulsive. Always up to something with or without supervision. Known for their impulsive decisions, which can sometimes lead to unexpected outcomes, both positive and negative.

Jealous. Very jealous person. Even when they see you talking to a child and that child is making you laugh, they will try to grab your attention and usher you to a different location while sticking their tongue out to mock the kid.

Job qualities: Courageous, ambitious, competence, and resilience.

H Moreno (The Captain)

Gender: Male or Female

Height: 6'2"/185 cm (M) or 5'10"/177 cm (F)

Age: 33

Role: Captain of your police precinct.

Detailed personality description:

Serious and intimidating. Their stern expression and commanding presence demand respect from colleagues and subordinates. The wrinkles in their forehead cannot be any deeper.

Rational and direct. Guided by logic and reason, preferring to base decisions on evidence and facts rather than emotions. They communicate in a direct manner, getting straight to the point and avoiding unnecessary overstatement.

Tough. They will always be tough in any situation because their principle is, 'I need to keep it together, or everything else will crumble'. What a statement, but they actually reserved the mushy side for their beloved one.

Introvert and judgmental. They would rather be alone than interact with others. But don't be fooled by their quietness, as they will judge you, whether it's your walking, eating, or anything really.

Perfectionist. They have high standards and expect nothing less than excellence from themselves and their team. Their pursuit of perfection can lead to extreme concentration and a drive to achieve the best possible outcomes.

Job qualities: Resourceful, self-discipline, committed, strong sense of justice and fairness.

D Keller (The Reporter)

Gender: Male or Female

Height: 5'7"/170 cm (M) or 5'5"/165 cm (F)

Age: 26

Role: The reporter who's obsessed with the case.

Detailed personality description:

Playful and charming. This makes them likeable and engaging in social situations. Their wit and sense of humor often draw people in, even when discussing serious topics, especially when there's a murder to solve.

Inquisitive and adventurous. They possess a strong sense of curiosity and aren't afraid to pursue new leads or explore uncharted territories. They're always seeking answers and are willing to go to great lengths (which is quite dangerous for them) to uncover the truth.

Cunning. They have a knack for strategic thinking and finding unconventional solutions. Their cunning nature allows them to navigate complex situations and discover information that others might overlook.

Indecisive and unpredictable. Their inquisitiveness and adventurous spirit sometimes make them indecisive, as they weigh multiple options and potential outcomes. This indecisiveness can lead to unpredictability in their actions and decisions.

Evasive. They are evasive af, so please don't ask about their past, or you will make them annoyed.

Job qualities: Persistence, assertive, perceptive, realistic.

Unknown (The ???)

Gender: Male or Female

Height: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Role: Unknown

[grayintogreen]

WIP Wednesday

Since it's an off week for YCDHN, here's a little snippet from the next chapter!

“I did not think Lucien would do that again,” she finally said once Molly had lost sight of the dolphin entirely and the rest of its pod had abandoned the fishing boat with full bellies and confidence in their own immortality. Near the stern, Jester was climbing up some of the rigging to get a better look at them as they chased The Backbiter and Molly jerked away from watching her to gape at Cree, instead.

“Again? When did he have time to do it before?”

“Last night.” Cree ran a hand down her muzzle, her claws grazing her whiskers just enough to make her shudder. “He took over Chance.”

“How the hell did Chance even get your-“ Molly paused and Cree shot him a withering look.

“Don’t.”

He pressed his knuckles to his lips, but couldn’t successfully hide his smile. “Congratulations.”

“Shut up. Shut up.” She threw her hands up. “It was childish. It meant nothing and Chance did not deserve any of that! I should have mentioned it when I came in, but I was furious and exhausted and I did not think he would do it again so quickly- I did not think he would even have the opportunity! The blood prevents him from taking over any of us. That is how blood magic works.”

Molly could be grateful for that fact without having to comment on it, especially with how utterly lost she looked. “I should have known better. The Lucien I knew is so very much the Lucien I have now and yet I expect him to be better than this, to have learned anything after what was done to him.”

Molly, without concern for his safety given how an actively unhappy tabaxi had both claws and teeth to deter personal space violation, got right up on her and clasped her face in his hands. “Hey. Look at me. You didn’t change overnight either. Sure you’re less stubborn than he is, but we had to work on it.”

Cree didn’t pull away, but she didn’t relax either. “Do you think he can change, Mollymauk? Do you think either of you can truly find yourselves when the other one is right there to mock you?”

He tensed up. “I know who I am.” Or, at least, he knew who he wanted to be. He’d come a long way towards figuring his shit out and Lucien was starting at the ground floor- maybe a few inches beyond given how hard the Somnovem had beaten him. “It’s time he figured out who he is now that he has nothing.”

She finally pulled away from him. “Isn’t that the trouble? Lucien has always had nothing.”

“He had you. Don’t justify his shit decisions. He was the one who couldn’t be satisfied.” He was only repeating what she already knew, so he cringed and turned back to the rail and the endless ocean. “What do you want to do about him, Cree?”

She didn’t answer for such a long time that he was concerned she had just walked away entirely, but when he glanced to the side, she was still standing there, her head down. “I want him to grow the way I did. Despite everything, he still means so much to me… But if he cannot grow then I know that he will keep me from growing. I do not want him to become a cancer to me, Mollymauk, but…” She bared her teeth. “I hate him so much right now. He can’t even allow himself to break, much less heal. He is just chasing another opportunity- another net. Anything to avoid facing that there’s other ways if he will only work for them.”

She looked up at him, then, her golden eyes watery and when she spoke, it came out small and choked. “There are nine of us, Mollymauk. Do you think that’s enough to remove him from this madness, rather than just allow him to continue it in a different form?”

He didn’t have an answer to that. Lucien was proud and stubborn and had an agenda that only aligned with the Nein’s on a technicality. They couldn’t trust him not to try and run off if he found something better. They couldn’t trust him at all and doing so might cost them.

But to not trust him meant giving into the idea that he couldn’t be changed, which concerned Molly on two levels. If Lucien couldn’t be changed, did that mean he would reach a point and stagnate as well? Were they only ever going to be fully realized people if they came together as one?

He shuddered at the thought. No. Lucien could change. If he was going to have to deal with him, he was going to become a better fucking person or else Molly might go mad from not having a way to escape from him.

To Cree, he just said, “Whether he likes it or not, it took nine people to break him. Maybe it’ll take nine people to put the fucker back together again.”

[lovebykai]

Crawling Back To You

》 Pretty Girl - Part 4

Word Count: 3.1K

Pairing: Ran x Fem!Reader x Rindou

Warning(s): NSFW. Toxic Shit. Pseudo-Voyeurism. Psuedo-Exhibition. Biting. Blood Play? Seriously Rough Sex. Choking. Violence. Begging. Crying. Sacrilege? Sadomasochism. Spitting.

Authors Note: I love them SO MUCH. I cannot wait for the Tenjiku arc to be animated cause I need more of them right now immediately.

Ran tilted his head back against the headrest of the booth he was in, letting out a long sigh. You were still avoiding him after the misadventure at the club and the conversation thereafter, and Rindou was taking great pleasure in rubbing it in his face at every opportunity.

Like now, with you practically draped across his lap.

It wasn't that he had an issue with you doting on his brother. He'd expected it since the three of you were kids. His problem was that you were denying him even the most basic of affections; seeing your legs thrown over the younger man's lap was maddening. Watching the rhythmic motion of his arm tracing back and forth on your leg as he spoke with the other occupant of the booth was even worse.

"... right, Ran?" He blinked, masking his confusion with feigned disintest when Rindou smirked over at him. Rather than give a real answer, he let out a noncomital hum, ignoring the curious look you gave him. It wasn't like him to be absentminded, much less when it came to business dealings.

But instead of focusing on the impending deal, he forced his gaze to roam the room, scanning until he landed on a vaguely familiar blond and a devious idea occurred to him. When her eyes met his, he crooked a finger; predictably, she scrambled off her stool at the bar and nearly toppled over in her hurry to reach him. He couldn't help but wonder what the appeal of men like him was for girls like her -- he didn't even take the time to remember her name, where was her self respect? -- but the thought didn't linger.

"Hello again, sweetheart." Your gaze was burning into the side of his head. He could feel the dangerous vibrations you were suddenly radiating; Rindou was very obviously shaking his head from the corner of his eye.

"Hey, Ran." She was cute. Bright eyed and eager to please. Totally different from your seething apathy lately.

"Rindou." You hissed, barely audible over the thump of the music and his brother sighed in exasperation as you moved to flee the booth. To prevent this, Ran promptly threw his leg up across the way, still smiling at the other girl.

"Could you do me a favor?" If there was more rasp to his crooning, it was from the way your hands were white-knuckling the edge of the table with rage.

When Rindou had told him how possessive you were, Ran hadn't really bought into it. He'd figured there was some underlying circumstances that had made you fly off the handle. It couldn't be his promiscuity alone, right? Seeing you now, though, well...

You looked borderline manic.

There was a wild look in your eye as the girl leaned over him, fingers walking down his chest with a giggle. If he wasn't occupied with your reaction, it might have been seductive.

"Rindou." There was a warning -- a desperation -- in your voice that was intoxicating as you begged his brother to help you. It had him hardening in his slacks instantly, letting out a low groan when the blond finally reached his cock and massaged it through the fabric.

"You mean like before?"

You snapped.

Ran almost felt bad when your hands fisted her hair and hauled her backwards to the floor. In seconds you were on top of her, fist rearing back and apparently down to pick up an assault charge off this woman despite the fact he'd been the one goading you. Before you could do any damage, he wrapped his arms around your middle and manhandled you away from the scene. You fought him every step of the way not unlike a feral cat, kicking and clawing to escape him.

"I'll fucking kill her, Ran, I swear to God--"

"Now, now, kitten, don't be like that." Ran huffed, dragging you into the office and letting you go. Your gaze instantly fixated on the door he was standing in front of, teeth bared.

"Move."

"I can't do that, Y/N, you'll--"

"Don't call me that!" Your hands flew up to your head, tugging at your hair as you began pacing the room.

"Your name?" His amusement had you seething; he barked out a laugh when you swiped everything off the desk. You were breathing heavy, glaring from one spot to the next with no signs of coming down from whatever high he'd managed to send you to.

"Little lamb." Ran tool pity on you, cooing the pet name with newfound appreciation. He stepped away from the door, unsurprised when you shoved him back against it with enough force it might have hurt a lesser man.

What did surprise him was when your mouth met his with equal ferocity.

"You're mine, Haitani." The growl was followed by a hard bite to his lower lip; when he tasted blood he shuddered. Your tongue chased it as it flooded his mouth, pressing against him like you were trying to fuse with him.

"Prove it." He panted into the kiss -- if the battle of teeth and tongue could even be called that -- and you were immediately clawing at his clothes. There was a knock at the door that earned another animalistic noise from you.

"Fuck off." The order was barked by both of you and Rindous laughter echoed from the other side as you managed to bare his chest.

"Shit." Ran breathed as your teeth buried themselves in his skin; he was certain you'd drawn blood by the fourth time and the knowledge had him throbbing. Sure enough, when he managed to tilt his head down to look at you, his blood was smeared down his chest and across your lips.

Fisting your hair he slammed his mouth back to yours, using his grip to force you against the wall and notching his leg between your thighs. The way you instantly started grinding against him made him dizzy; he unlatched his hand from your hair and locked it around your throat instead.

"God, I love you." The admission earned him a sinful moan. Or maybe it was the way he'd literally ripped your shirt open with his free hand. Whatever.

You let out a whine as his lips met your skin, sucking bruises into it while he tightened his grip. Your grip went from clawing at his shoulders to his wrist, gasping as his mouth moved from your chest up, up, up--

Ran licked your lips, meeting your frantic eyes with a smirk as you tried desperately to inhale.

"Awh, what's wrong, baby?" He basked in the way your pupils blew out; the shiver that rolled through you.

"Where'd all that fight go?" It wasn't until your lids began to droop that he let up, letting you suck in much needed oxygen as he fumbled with your jeans.

"Ran, please-- I need--!" He snarled when he finally got them down to your knees and spun you around to face the wall. You arched your back, grinding your ass against his now painful erection as he shoved his slacks down just far enough he could free it.

"Shut up," It was barely audible as he lined himself up and slid into you. "Fuck yes--"

"Oh, God!"

"Mm, call me that again, would you, baby?" Ran chuckled in your ear before nipping at your lobe.

"God!" You chirped obediently; it had been a joke but hearing it a second time earned you a growl as he rolled his hips. The sob you let out in response was heavenly.

Your pussy clamped down on him as he slowly pulled out of you, mystified briefly by the fact he was actually fucking you. It was literally one of his wildest dreams to have you bent over like this. Watching as his cock disappeared into your heat was just fucking--

"Ran, faster, please! Please, I-- I need you." It was barely coherent as you squirmed, trying to force him deeper despite the ironclad grip he had on your hips.

"Shh," Running one hand up your spine soothingly, he took his time sinking back into you. "Been dreaming of fucking this pussy since we were teenagers. Let me have my moment." The whimper you released almost made him laugh; he took mercy on you as you sniffled, bottoming out in one hard snap of his hips.

Your knees nearly gave out as he started fucking you in earnest, sliding against your g-spot expertly as he tapped against your cervix. It had to hurt -- if your mixture of squeals and sobs was any indication -- but he was relentless. Punishing you for making him wait so goddamn long to be inside you like this.

The scream you let out as you came nearly had him joining you; he quickly hooked his fingers into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue in the hopes of muffling it. When the wet appendage swirled around the digits he groaned, digging his nails into you in an attempt to hold off on filling you up.

"I'm yours, huh?" Ran panted smugly, twisting your head around by pulling on your cheek.

"Looks more like you're mine. My little-- fuck-- slut." He spit into your mouth, grinning as you fell into another orgasm. Watching your blissed out expression was its own drug; he finally surrendered to the urge to pump you full of his cum when your knees buckled and he abruptly found himself fucking you doggystyle into the floor.

"Christ." He hissed out, head lulling back in ecstacy for a moment.

But then you were turning and scrambling into him, arms locking around his neck and sobbing and--

"Mine. You're mine, Ran." It was rasped against his neck desperately as you clung to him and he fell back onto his ass just so he could haul you into his lap.

The words were repeated softly against his skin as he tugged your pants back into place and tucked himself away. Ran shushed you gently, carding his fingers through your hair as you shook violently in his embrace. Guilt was threatening to overtake the pleasure he'd just been feeling; it'd been fun to tease you and get you riled up, but this... this hurt him.

"Yours." His confession came easier than he'd have expected. "I've always been yours, little lamb. Nobody loves you like I do-- not even Rindou." Your trembling slowly subsided the longer he held you, rocking you a bit.

"Promise?" Ran nearly missed the whisper against his chest.

"I promise, baby."

* * *

Rindou was entirely unsurprised when you came stumbling out of the office in Rans shirt, looking like a hot mess. He silently cursed his brother as you rubbed at your swollen eyes, clearly feeling pretty raw as you scanned the room.

The way your body melted at the sight of him had his heart fluttering; reaching you swiftly he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you towards the exit at the back of the building.

"He's cleaning up." You blurted out as he helped you into his car, as if he cared where his heathen of a brother was when you were looking about ready to drop. Rather than inform you of this, though, he just nodded and walked around to the drivers seat.

Sure enough, Ran followed about five minutes later looking somehow worse than you did. He'd ditched his braids in favor of just throwing his long locks into a bun; the v neck he was wearing did little to hide the dark red rings adorning his chest.

Rindou realized, abruptly, he was jealous that his older brother was wearing your marks.

"You good there, bunny?" He found himself asking as Ran passed you a water bottle from the passenger seat that you promptly downed with trembling limbs. The aftershocks of your meltdown plus whatever debauchery you'd gotten up to with his brother were clearly weighing dragging you under as you curled up in the backseat with drooping lids.

"Mhmm. Jus' tired." Rans smirk grated on his nerves as he watched you drifting from the rear view, pulling away from the club and heading to their apartment.

It wasn't that he begrudged Ran his time with you. Not at all. You jerked awake, fighting off sleep with rolling eyes before succumbing to the pull once more. It was that he wanted it too. Rindou craved intimacy with you. He just wasn't going to push you like Ran; he wanted you to come to him. Preferably without him having to make you snap.

The car ride was quiet as you and his brother both relaxed; it wasn't until the three of you pulled up to their place that you started to look more with it. Tumbling from the car, you let Rindou wrap an arm around your waist and lead you inside. Ran followed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as the three of you paused in the living room.

"I'm going to get the blood off, my little lamb. Try to get some rest." With that and a knowing look directed his way, you and Rindou were left alone.

"C'mon, you can sleep in my room." There was an awkward sort of tension as you shuffled along with him, flopping down onto silk sheets the minute they came into view. He hesitated at the doorway, unsure if he should--

"Lay down." Your whine popped the tension like a balloon and he shrugged himself down to his boxers before crawling in beside you.

Likewise, you shuffled out of everything but Rans shirt before curling into him with a small smile. He wouldn't have been able to see it if it weren't for the dim lighting from the moon breaking through his blinds.

Your lips pressed sweet kisses against his chest, and he just barely resisted the urge to trap you against him.

"Bunny, you don't have to--"

"Shh, Rin." The words were a quiet rasp as you continued; the kisses evolving into little bruises to decorate his skin. Your movements were sluggish but purposeful, caressing every inch of him you could reach before shifting up onto your elbow and looking down at him with soft eyes.

"I--" The words died in your throat, a flustered expression crossing your features. "Can we--?" Rindou grinned, gently nudging you onto your back and rolling on top of you.

"Tryin' to say you want me to? Greedy baby." Crooning softly, he brushed his lips to yours, feeling you go limp beneath him as your thighs dropped open for him to settle against you.

"Please?" Nosing at your neck, he sucked his own marks into you grinding himself against your core with a soft groan. The mewl you let out earned a chuckle against your throat while you squirmed. It wasn't until your fingers were scraping at the top of his briefs that he leaned back to kiss you in earnest.

There was a distinct tang of copper on your tongue as the kiss deepened and you irritably tugged his underwear down. He shifted himself back far enough to kick them off completely before slowly unbuttoning your shirt.

"Patience." Rindou teased as you threw the shirt to the floor -- quickly followed by your bra -- and he stroked his cock.

"Rindou, please. I want you." The little pout you sent him had his heart stuttering in his chest and he found himself unable to resist you anymore. Gently, he tugged your panties down your legs and dropped them with the rest of your clothes, eyes rolling down your naked body appreciatively.

"Let me take my time." Your eager nod of agreement was what made him lean down to reattach his mouth to yours, pushing himself into your wet heat slowly. Soft moans filled his room in tandem as he bottomed out, eyes rolling back into both of your heads.

"That's-- Rindou--" You hiccuped his name as he pulled out equally slowly, mesmerized by the way your walls sucked and pulsed against him. It wasn't that he'd never had sex before -- not that he'd ever address it with you; he was happy to learn from Rans mistakes -- but for some reason everything just felt... more.

Humming softly to acknowledge your little whimpers of his name, sinking in and out of you at what must have been an agonizing pace from the way you were clawing at his back. Your heels were digging into his ass, trying weakly to force him into you more quickly despite the way you were only getting tighter.

Sure enough, you clamped down on him moments later, babbling incoherently against his neck while riding out your orgasm and he chuckled breathlessly.

"Feels good, huh, baby?" You were nodding desperately against his shoulder, legs trembling as he kept to his slow strokes against your insides.

This pace was never going to satisfy him-- not right now, when all he wanted to do was slam himself into you. But he knew Ran had probably been too rough on your pretty little pussy, and he wasn't keen on adding to the limp you'd probably have tomorrow.

Another orgasm sucked him deeper into you, though, and the way you sobbed his name made him decide he didn't care.

"Let me ride you." A sudden burst of clarity from you, pawing weakly at him to roll over. Obediently, he withdrew long enough to sit up against his headboard and you'd joined with him again in seconds.

You kissed him sweetly, cupping his cheeks and rocking your hips; using his throbbing cock to stir up your insides. Rindous fingers dug into your hips, making crescents in your skin and guiding you to move faster with a soft hiss.

"Just like that--" He groaned into your panting mouth, pleased with the responding mewl you gave him in response. Your hands were everywhere again, caressing his chest and shoulders with quick, jerky movements before finally settling in his hair and pulling.

It was the added spark of pain that sent him over the edge, pumping his seed up into you with another hiss of pleasure. Your name passed his lips softly, breathed into you like a prayer and he received a breathless giggle in response as your pussy milked him dry.

* * *

Ran smiled softly down at the pair of you an hour later as he crawled into the bed and curled up behind you. Petting your bare side, he let out a relieved sigh into the top of your head.

Rindous eye peaked open, a small smile tugging onto his lips as well. His hand landed at you'd waist, pulling closer to your front as the three of you dozed into a deep sleep.

》 Taglist: @selfishwitch , @youpieceofwasabi , @armycandy10 , @sunarinluvv , @haitanigigi,

《 Part 3 《

》 True Ending 》

[noforkingclue]

Hi! Could I request a soulmate fic with a dark!Zemo?

Of course you can! I do love a good soulmate fic! This turned out a lot longer than I was planning so I hope you enjoy it!

Title: No Escape

MCU tag list: @geocookie21, @greeneyedblondie44

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @imjustassaneasyou

When you opened your eyes you realised that you weren’t in your room. Panic settled in the pit of your stomach and you tried to move but with a sickening realisation you found that you couldn’t. You were locked in your body, in a strange place with no hope of escape. That last fact was solidified when your eyes flicked to the side.

Glass. A thick panel of glass blocked any chance of escape. Guards walked around and occasionally looked into your cell as you tried to struggle free. You closed your eyes and tried to take several deep breaths but this body wasn’t cooperating. When you opened your eyes again you saw it, the thing that replaced the panic with something far, far worse- dread.

You weren’t in your body, a strangers face was reflected in the glass. A sickening smile spread across his face as you realised with increasing horror whose body you were in. Your soulmate, the person you were destined to be with, was a criminal.

“So we finally meet.”

You woke up with a gasp, your sheets soaked in your sweat. On weak legs you stumbled out of bed and turned on your light. You looked at yourself in your mirror and touched your face. You were back in your own body, it was just a nightmare.

“A nightmare? You wound me, my dear.”

A just like that your life changed forever.

*

The second time you met your soulmate was in a dream. He stalked around you as you wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed in your summer pyjamas. He looked you up and down as you avoided eye contact.

“So young,” he said, “What have I done to deserve you?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, “You’re the one in prison. I’m just wondering what I did in a past life to be stuck with you.”

“Don’t be rude,” he stopped in front of you, “You’ll find me more agreeable if you behave.”

“Agreeable,” you looked up sharply, “I don’t even want a soulmate.”

He was handsome, that fact you couldn’t deny. His brown eyes hardened at your words and a hand moved to cup your cheek.

“It would be wise not to test my patience,” he said coldly, “I wouldn’t like our meeting to be soured by your disobedience.”

“Disobedience?” you spat, “I’m a person not a dog.”

He looked at you in amusement but you could see a flash of displeasure run across his eyes. His grip tightened for a second before he quickly let go of you. You stumbled back and almost fell over before you glared back at him.

“How interesting,” he said, “You aren’t afraid.”

“You’re in prison,” you said, “You can’t hurt me.”

“I have no intention of ever hurting you.”

*

You gritted you teeth as your saw your soulmate again. This time you were out of the prison and walking along the streets of Vienna. You stuck your hands in your pockets as you looked around the city, fond memories emerging as you looked around. You and your ex used to visit the city regularly.

“I would appreciate it if you did not think of other men.”

You spun around and saw him sitting down by a café. He took a sip from his coffee and pointed to the seat opposite him. After a moment’s hesitation you reluctantly took the seat.

“You can’t control my thoughts,” you said, “What are you, the thought police.”

He just gave you a sharp smile before turning back to his coffee.

“I’ll admit,” he said, “You mind is a much more pleasant place than mine. I’m going to enjoy visiting it more often.”

“Unlikely.”

“You think those books you’ve been reading will prevent me?”

“How did-“

“We’re soulmates,” he said, “Our minds are linked.”

“Then why can’t I see into yours? Why can’t I see your memories?”

He gave you a soft smile and for some reason you found it oddly sad. You shifted in your seat and looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

“You also can’t prevent me from thinking about people I cared about,” you said bitterly, “You’re older than me. Surely you hadn’t been saving yourself for your soulmate.”

You didn’t expect your words to have had any effect of him. You heard the clink of the coffee cup being put down before a strong hand reach over and grabbed your arm. You let out a cry as you were yanked to your feet and pulled roughly against his chest. You raised a hand to try and free yourself but it was no use.

“You’d be wise to watch your tongue,” he warned quietly, “Or when I finally have you I won’t be gentle.”

“You’ll never have me,” you spat, “You’re in prison.”

“We’ll just have to see about that then won’t we?”

*

“You know,” you leant against the wall as you looked out at the prison, “I don’t even know your name.”

This caused your soulmate to look up at you curiously.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“Why, have you forgotten?”

“Helmut Zemo.” He said

“Y/n l/n.” you said

Zemo looked at you over the top of his book before looking away again. You just clicked you tongue in annoyance before walking around.

“Did I say you can leave?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Zemo moved and tapped the space next to him on the bed. You just snorted and shook your head.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? You’re going to have to get used to me once I finally have you in my arms.”

“Like that’ll happen any time soon.”

Zemo’s smile sent chills down your spin but you still refused to move. He stood up slowly and closed his book as he walked towards you. You stood your ground and held your head up high as he stopped directly in front of you. Even though this was just a dream you were becoming increasingly uneasy under his intense stare. This time you were in his dream so you knew that you couldn’t escape until he woke up.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” he said, “As long as you behave you’ll find our time together most pleasurable.”

“And if I don’t behave.”

“Well than,” he smiled, “I’m going to have fun breaking you in.”

*

“I had a wife.”

You looked over at Zemo in shock. He was looking outside your bedroom window and you had a feeling that he was deliberately avoiding your gaze.

“And a son.” He continued

“Had?”

“They’re gone.”

“Gone?”

“They were killed.”

“Oh,” you swung your legs off of your bed, “I’m sorry.”

Zemo looked over at you, a sad smile on his face. You looked at him but quickly averted your gaze. You could see the pain and love for them etched in his face. You weren’t jealous, that was his wife and child that he was telling you about. You couldn’t replace the love he held for them, soulmate or not.

“You mean that,” he said, “You genuinely mean that.”

“Of course.”

“Even though we are destined to be together.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You will.”

You shook your head. You had no desire of ever getting to know Zemo and his eyes narrowed at your thoughts. You felt awkward having him inside your room even if this was just a dream. You were thankful that the view from your windows was just a white space. You didn’t want to give him any more clues on where you lived. If you did you might have to move.

“I’ll find you.”

“Huh?”

“Whether you go I will find you. I’ve already lost one woman I loved I do not plan on losing you.”

“I cannot and will not replace your wife.”

“You’re not going to have a choice.”

You stood up quickly and marched towards him. Zemo looked up calmly at you, a sharp contrast to the rage coursing through your veins.

“I’ll fight you.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“And you’re still going through with this? Why?”

“Because,” Zemo stood up, “You are mine. You will be mine. I have no desire to break you but if you continue to resist me,” he leant towards you, “You’ll give me no choice.”

Before you had a chance to answer Zemo cupped your face and pressed a gently kiss against your lips. It was a brief kiss but you felt the intention behind it. The dark promise that you’ll never escape, his true plans for you and the certainty that one day he was going to escape and then there’ll be no place for you to run.

“Soon my dear,” he said as he rested his forehead against you, “We’re going to be very happy.”

*

You should’ve seen this coming. Ever since Zemo kissed you in your dream his had become a lot bolder. He openly stared at you, touched your more and always kissed you. He was never rough with you, he was always a gentleman, but tonight his demeanour changed.

As soon as you appeared in his dream he had grabbed your shoulders and pressed you against the wall of the grand house. You barely had a chance to look around before he had pulled you into a bruising kiss. You let out a gasp of surprise which allowed him to utterly dominate the kiss, harshly biting your lips when you tried to resist. Eventually he broke the kiss, the two of you gasping for air.

“Do you know how hard it’s been to resist you,” he said, “Seeing you in my dreams, my soulmate, so close and yet so far away. I’ve been patient for you to come around and now I need you.”

“Zemo, wait-“

“I’ve been waiting,” he said, “I’ve been waiting for long enough. Please don’t make it any harder.”

He hands grasped your wrists and pinned then next to your head as he delved back in. He was a skilled kisser and you found it harder and harder to resist. You felt him smile against your lips as he stepped in closer, trapping you firmly against the wall and his body. You moaned softly as you felt yourself melt against him.

“That’s it,” Zemo said as he broke the kiss, “Give in and I will give you everything.”

You whimpered softly as he trailed kisses down your neck before one again capturing you in a dizzyingly gently kiss. He let go of your wrists and held your hips in place. If wasn’t until he grinded his hips against yours that you realised the position you were in. Without hesitation you bit Zemo’s tongue causing him to let out a cry of shock and jump away. You slipped out from under his arms and took off running down the halls. You heard Zemo’s laugh echo after you. You weren’t going to give in.

“Do you think you can hide?” he asked, “In my house? I look forward to our games of cat and mouse. Although I should warn you, I rarely lose.”

You turned a corner and came face to face with a long corridor. You tried to open some of the doors but to your increasing dread they were all locked. You heard soft whistling follow you and you became increasingly desperate to try and find a place to hide. The soft click of shoes at the end of the corridor showed you that the game was up sooner than you wanted. You looked over your shoulder and Zemo just shook his head in disappointment.

“This is my dream,” he said, “I have control here and, if you don’t behave yourself, when you’re eventually mine.”

He walked towards you and you looked around for a place to run to. Zemo gave you a pitying look and when he was directly in front of you trailed a hand down your cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have been so rough with you. I should’ve remembered that you are so young. Forgive me?”

He pressed a kiss against your shoulder as he pressed you against the door.

“I’ll be patient,” he said, “It won’t be long now until I can hold you properly.”

*

You woke up with a gasp, your sheets soaked in your sweat. Rain pounded against your window and you ran a hand through your hair. Another dream about Zemo but this time it wasn’t your typical soulmate dream. It unnerved you, you hadn’t had a dream with him in several weeks and you were becoming nervous. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness then you saw it, the figure by the door. For a moment time stood still then you both lunged at the same time.

“Go effort,” said a smooth voice, “But not quick enough.”

Zemo held your wrists in one hand as he switched on your bedside lamp with his other. He was just as handsome in real life as he was in your dreams. He smiled down at you as he took your position in. You felt the blush creep up your neck. He sighed and rest his head against your shoulder.

“I told you it wouldn’t be long. Have you missed me?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie.”

“That’s the truth.”

“Hmm.”

He looked up at you as his gaze darkened.

“Now then,” he said, “Shall we continue from where we left off? I don’t like leaving things half finished.”

[edelegs]

Reading Way Too Much Into Petra’s Language

So basically I study second language acquisition and I have been meaning to do a deep dive into Petra’s language use from the moment I first read her dialogue. (On a slightly unrelated note, the Black Eagles house really is just targeted content for queer linguistics grad students). I’d intended for this to be some grand project where I take Petra’s speech patterns and classify them according to theories in second language acquisition (SLA) - but that involves explaining too much Fire Emblem lore to Serious Linguists, so instead I’m going to use my class notes to analyze Petra’s speech patterns and explain why I feel she is a good representation of how narratives should treat non-native speakers of the majority language. (sources will be fast and loose, I’m sorry professors) 

I first want to mention the idea of “native speakerism”, particularly the fact that its use as a measure of proficiency and/or an expected standard of language use is flawed. Today, there are more non-native speakers of English than native speakers as a result of globalization, native speakers do not use language perfectly, and not all varieties of English are viewed equally (e.g. “native English speaker” never seems to refer to Indian English or AAVE). Much of today’s literature on SLA advocates for a focus on successful communication rather than native-like competency. From this perspective, Petra has achieved this goal: she seems to have no problem communicating with her peers outside of some trouble with idioms. Her peers always understand what she is saying, regardless of misconjugated verbs or odd phrasing. However, it is clear that Petra holds herself to these native-speaker standards. She is also the only non-native speaker of Fódlandish to be portrayed as a language learner. Despite this, I will try to avoid describing her language according to this standard. 

Of the non-Fódlan nations in the game, only Brigid, Duscur, and Dagda speak a different language than Fòdlanish. (I don’t recall anything about Almyra’s native language, because I’m 99% sure Claude didn’t mention it). Dedue in particular gives the audience a concrete timeline for his language acquisition - in a support with Dimitri, he mentions that he didn’t use honourifics for him in the past because he was still learning Fòdlandish. This puts him in a Fòdlandish-speaking environment from a young age. Shamir references speaking Dadgan in her A support with Byleth, but there’s no mention of how long she had been learning the language. Her background as a mercenary would be a logical justification for her strong proficiency (training one’s accent away is rare and often not feasible, but I sincerely believe the writers did not put this much thought into that). 

This means that language in the game only seems to matter for Petra’s character. Her background as a political pawn serves as her motivation. Petra is sent to the Empire five years before the events of the story as leverage against a Brigidian uprising. In their C-support, Hubert mentions that Petra could barely use the language when they met. This suggests that Petra has interacted with Adrestian nobility prior to attending Garegg Mach. At school, her environment is still largely made up of members of the nobility, especially as a member of the Black Eagles. (Not all noble speech is created equally, however. Put a pin in that). 

There are three notable features of Petra’s English: over-reliance and misuse of verbs “to be” and “to have”, an overgeneralization of the suffix -ness, and contraction avoidance. In general, Petra uses “have” to describe states of being: “I have gratitude”, “I have sorrow”, “he has much concentration”. This pattern reminds me of the French auxiliary verbs “être” and “avoir”, which leads me to believe that Petra is experiencing transfer from her first language. An English learner of French might say “je suis 24 ans” (I am 24 years) instead of the accepted form “j’ai 24 ans” (I have 24 years). Petra is likely making a similar mistake. From this, I suggest that Brigidian might use an equivalent form of “have” for states of being (or uses the same verb for “to be” and “to have”). What is strange is that this pattern does not significantly change in her A-supports with the others. She does make more use of “to be”, though it remains largely unconjugated (e.g. “we will be winning”, “I will be sharing my heart with all of you”, “I want to be smoking the meat, so that we can be preserving it”). 

There is an order for the development of English morpheme accuracy (Pienenmann’s Processability Theory, 1989). -ing is typically acquired first, which is seen in Petra’s language. It is followed by plural -s, then -be, when to use “a” versus “the”, irregular past, regular past -ed, third person -s, and possessive ‘s. Petra does not seem to follow this pattern exactly. She does not typically misuse articles (a/the), but her use of be is still largely unconjugated. She also uses the past perfect form more often than the simple past (from Hubert/Petra C: ”I had more youth then”, “I have learned much . . .” “and meeting you and Lady Edelgard has had great value for me”). There are instances when she does use the simple past (Caspar/Petra: “you are not the one who did the killing”, “our parents had conflict”) but this use is inconsistent. This blatantly contradicts Anderson and Shirai’s (1996) Aspect Hypothesis, which states that simple past is acquired much earlier on than past perfect. Similarly, Petra’s overuse of -ness is likely a similar developmental issue (though I cannot find a developmental hierarchy outlining this). 

One explanation for this (aside from “I am reading way more into this than the writers/translators did”) lies in Petra’s social networks. Since coming to Fòdlan, Petra has largely been surrounded by nobles. The use of past perfect, as well as contraction avoidance, might’ve been influenced by the noble’s speech patterns. A side effect of transcribing literally every line of Petra dialogue for the bigger-scale project I’d initially planned was noticing which Black Eagles use contractions and which don’t. Those who are concerned with maintaining their image - Edelgard, Hubert, and Ferdinand - either do not use contractions or use them much less than the others. Linhardt, Bernadetta, and Caspar all don’t care about how others perceive them, and as a result their speech is much more casual. Petra is a highly conscious learner who likely aspires to achieve the speech of the former group. As the future Queen of Brigid, she aims to be perceived as Edelgard’s equal and bring more respect and dignity for her nation. One way for her to do this is through language. Petra perceives herself as lacking proficiency and is embarrassed by her grasp on the language. She is a perfectionist in everything she does and this extends to language. In her supports with Byleth, she corrects herself often. One of her advice box questions expresses frustration about her lack of progress with speaking. She is proud of herself when she uses an expression correctly (e.g. [smiling] “I have had practicing of that phrase”). The realism of her tense acquisition aside, Petra’s aspirations lead her to model her speech after that of her distinguished peers. 

Should Petra’s language have been written to more closely mirror real-world English acquisition patterns? Considering that I doubt this question has crossed other players’ minds, this is largely unnecessary. What should be asked is this: how is Petra treated by the narrative as a second language speaker? The answer is: surprisingly well! Though there are times when her misunderstanding of common expressions is used for humour, nobody treats Petra as if she’s lesser for being Brigidian or a non-native speaker. In fact, the person who’s hardest on Petra’s language is Petra herself. There are no incidences (at least within the Black Eagles) where others perceive her as less intelligent or less worthy of respect. It could be easy to read her character as “quirky foreigner”, but that dismisses the fact that her peers do not see her this way. This game is far from perfect at portraying differences in race/nationality (looking at you, Dedue), but Petra Macneary--hunter, friend, and badass queen--is a pleasant surprise. 

[utilitycaster]

Hello I would love to hear you thoughts on Caduceus and his arc. Clay is the only character who’s story has made me cry genuine tears (when he got his fam back) and I feel like his nuances and the changes he goes through tend to be overlooked a lot, exactly because of how quietly they happen.

Of course!

So as Taliesin said a few times and as I've pointed out, Caduceus (and Molly for that matter) was intended to be a static character. Obviously this is an impossibility in D&D because things happen and you cannot control it and moreover I am sure Taliesin is aware of this, so it's more that the intent was to have a character who did not feel they needed to change, possibly in contrast with Percy, who absolutely felt he needed to change. A self-proclaimed static character still needs a reason to be static: Molly's philosophy was, as notably stated on talks, "Life's short...do something to a bagel" and more generally the lack of need for change came from this sort of aimless and benevolent-when-convenient hedonism. Caduceus, on the other hand, is secure in his purpose. He has known who he was supposed to be for his whole life, and he embraces it, and sees no reason to change, until he absolutely has to, and even then he is deeply reluctant.

Caduceus is about what happens when your comfort zone and guiding principles themselves fold in on each other and are like "hey. expand us or else."

I think a lot of people have rightfully noted that from his appearance through the Xhorhas arc, Caduceus sees the rest of the Nein as mourners, and that's within his comfort zone. Sure, there are some moral quandaries at the docks of Nicodranas, but he's able to get through that (in part because he's in the Mighty Nein but isn't personally stealing the ship, in part because of Jester's talk with him). I think it's also worth noting that while Caduceus is extremely insightful he is not superhuman (super firbolgian?) in that regard; it is the insight borne of being someone who is there for mourners and so he has a good eye for emotions, less so for motivations, and a lot of the Nein's motivations early on escape him.

The first wave of big changes happen in Bazzoxan and the immediate aftermath. First, Fjord confides in him and asks for advice - and Caduceus is used to giving advice but I'm not sure he's ever had to offer religious practice advice, as the people he would have interacted with would have either been the sketchy people of Shady Creek Run, or else people already faithful enough to seek the Blooming Grove. And second, the party finds itself directionless for a time; there is no pressing business or better ideas and he cannot hide his own mission behind someone else's, so he voices his recommendation that they come clean to the Bright Queen, and then they go to the kiln.

Caduceus's relationship with Fjord I think is useful to bring up in a sense of contrast, in that Caduceus is incredibly good at helping Fjord through a crisis, because Caduceus is trained for crisis - but it gets much hazier once Fjord is out of said crisis and as it turns out has a very different relationship with the Wildmother, and I think this comes up to an extent when they talk in Rexxentrum. I think Caduceus, for all his talk of nature's violence, struggles with the concept of nature being malevolent or having goals - it just is. Whereas Fjord is much more comfortable with the idea of nature perhaps being a force that is itself a threat, or deceptive, and more generally with the idea of nature as somewhat unknowable and full of mysteries. I don't think Caduceus's personal view of nature ever changes, but I think his ability to process that he doesn't have the answers even in the areas within his comfort zone improves, and this is something of an inflection point with regards to him acknowledging new perspectives on his own comfort zone.

It's also a little before this that we see Caduceus reveal vulnerability for the first real time since his panic attack on the boat right after they stole it, when he confides in The Gentleman. Some of this is a calculated social move, to be fair, but it's a notable step forward.

That said it takes a while to change and he spends a few days post-Rexxentrum doing anything to avoid facing his own mission. It's worth noting that Caduceus is a cleric of the same level as Jester, and could have cast sending before the party ever met up with him, and he never did. So they go to Beau's father and Isharnai first, putting it off as long as he can.

Caduceus's scenes with his family sort of snap all of the above into place, in that his parents are glad he's spent some time in the world and are completely accepting of his desire to keep going for a time. I'm honestly not sure, myself, why he does this because I don't think it's metagaming (ie, it's not Taliesin going 'I can't make a third character') but I think there are multiple valid interpretations. Caduceus's role, as the one who stays at home, is ultimately a self-imposed one.

He sort of mulls on that for the next while, sort of uncomfortably internalizing differing perspectives on deities with the Artagan reveal/Rumblecusp and additionally processing his own deeper relationship with the Wildmother, with multiple visions, and maybe even the fact that nature constantly wants to murder him.

Then we get to Eiselcross and that's when it all hits. I think as soon as he sees the corrupted trees he gets a sense of the scale, that this corruption is not just unnatural but it is ancient and has been a threat for a long time and that staving it off at the Blooming Grove is not getting at the unknown, underlying source (which he probably knew deep down, but as discussed above he does not really love to admit those things to himself). And he realizes that he might need to be the one not just to commit but to initiate violence, as the person with no emotional ties to Lucien via Molly; he finds himself bending his own moral rules for the greater good more; and I think this is when he realizes either that he needs to change, or perhaps that he's been changing quietly and slowly the whole time and has just been terrified to admit it.

The last night at the Blooming Grove before the final push into Aeor is another good look at Caduceus, who, like a number of characters in this campaign, is so very much defined by his ongoing and important familial relationships. We get a brief but heartbreaking glimpse at the state he was in prior to the Nein showing up in the garden, and how he was trying to induce something, anything, to give him direction because he didn't trust himself to leave without that assurance; and his admission, finally, to someone else of that change, that he never wanted to be the person to go on an adventure, that he still has very mixed feelings about it, but that this is his responsibility. And it's that which allows him to confidently say, on Cognouza, that it's time to end this shit.

In short (Clue the Movie voice: too late) Caduceus's arc is someone who has always believed in his sacred, literally god-given responsibility into which he was born, and struggles against the fact that said sacred responsibility ends up being quite different than what he expected but ultimately is able to accept it, and his reward is that he can return to the responsibility he initially embraced, having grown in ways he could not have otherwise.

Now, I think part of why Caduceus's arc gets overlooked is twofold. The first reason is that background arcs are, well, background, and it's quiet and subtle and highly internal and hard to turn into big dramatic moments, which, as a person whose favorite C1 character is Vex, I understand, but also those arcs are the best.

The second, and this is going to sound even more "I appreciate the muppets on a much deeper level than you" than the first, is that I feel a lot of people who considered Caduceus their favorite character did lean into the myth of "superfirbolgian" insight when the fact always was that Caduceus had no interest in the political; did not make Trent quake in his wizard robes in the slightest as was confirmed in the finale; and ultimately wanted most of all to return to his home.

It's a very true and very unique choice and if I may [note: I am writing this so I do what I want] I think a lot of people did not understand Caduceus in that they felt his ending was unhappy for him, and some of this is that people had really stupid takes on the party splitting at the end. I have mixed feelings on the true universality of the Campbellian Monomyth and even more mixed feelings on everyone giving Dan Harmon tons of credit for merely rephrasing it but despite that, Caduceus's arc fits it perfectly (and very literally): comfort zone -> need arises -> unfamiliar situation -> adaptation -> gets what he wants -> at a price -> returns to comfort -> having changed.

[adorerdraco]

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 4

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

Summary: PART 4 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and now having to deal with the reality of his Death Eater status. 

Warnings: lots of ANGST (but also tiniest bit of fluff), lots of tears, lots of emotional pain on everyone

Words: 7.5K

A/N: FINALLLYYYY i had no idea what to do with this but something finally came to me !!!! and also an ending ;( so there will only be maybe one or two parts after this one since it is a miniii series BUT FOR NOW I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS AND IGNORE ANY PLOT HOLES FROM THE ACTUAL HP UNIVERSE I TRIED MY V BEST AHHH <33333 do not own gif.

There was an unsettling sense of impending doom that washed over the Hogwarts castle in heavy rain and dark thunderous clouds. The familiar orange and bright sunlight and purple-pink sunsets were gone, the sun only making meek appearances through the thick rainy covers of the sky before disappearing into the nightfall. No one knew what was coming or what to expect. Schooling continued like normal and everyone had entrusted that whatever was the situation outside the bewitched stone walls of Hogwarts; there was no way it could get past the protection charms put in place by the all-powerful Headmaster and his fellow teachers. 

The only two people in the school who couldn’t share that same comfort with their peers were also the only ones in the school who had an inkling of what was going to happen next. The second Draco realized he had successfully mended the vanishing cabinet he had a squirming sense of regret and guilt begin to eat away at him. You felt the same burn of shame in you when you mulled over the fact that it was you who had encouraged him to keep at it even when he continuously wanted to quit. 

So now here you were, in the chilled room of requirement after finding out the cabinet worked only minutes ago, the two of you sitting in silence together on an old pile of junk while you held a shivering Draco with his face buried in your neck. There was a feeling of droplets of quiet tears falling onto your skin while you pet the top of his silver-stricken hair in reassurance and tried to hold your own tears back. The breakthrough that was supposed to be the biggest accomplishment of the young Death Eater ended up feeling like his biggest failure and it devastated him more than he could have ever fathomed.

When he had finally gathered himself together, he stood up and totteringly fixed the wrinkles on his black suit before offering you a trembling hand. You took it and allowed him to walk you out of the room and back into the empty corridors and towards the staircases. It was a silent trip down to the dungeons and you didn’t want to ask where he was taking you but you regretted not doing so when he stopped the two of you outside a certain greasy-haired Professor’s door. He brought his free hand up to the wood and let his knuckles hit against it faintly with one knock before you rushed to stop him as you yanked the two of you away from the door once you had realized how unwise this felt.

“What are you doing?!” you asked him in a hushed fearful tone.

“I have to tell Snape about the vanishing cabinet,” he responds dully.

“I don’t think he’d like me to be here when you tell him that-”

There was a sudden clicking sound, the door of the office swinging open as Snape emerged from the room with an angered expression when he saw the two of you standing there. When his dark eyes landed on you specifically, you shivered underneath his vexed gaze. It was clear, just how you had said, he did not want you there. 

“Inside, now, Draco.” He grits the demand through his teeth.

“Y/N is coming in too,” the Slytherin says quickly, earning another scowl from his Professor. He stepped aside from the door with a visible rage as you followed Draco inside to the dingy room lined with jars filled with weird unnameable objects.

Draco stopped in the middle of the room, reaching for your hand again and tightly gripping it in reassurance. You stared into his worried gray’s with fear, silently begging him to not let you go as Snape walked past the both of you.

“Do you have any idea how imprudent you are, Draco?” Snape sneered, staring down the boy beside you who kept a straight face. “Do you understand how reckless this is? How much does she know?”

“Everything, Professor,” Draco answers quietly. There was a fiery glint in Snape’s eyes as he looked towards you now, his lips curling upwards in a snarl.

“Foolish girl with an equally foolish boy,” he scowls. “You have nothing to do with any of this. You have done nothing but write yourself a death sentence all for the sake of what... love?”

“With all due respect, Professor,” you start timidly, “I knew what the consequences would be if I stayed with Draco and I will gladly accept whatever fate is in store for me for my decision. I also promise you my silence with everything I know.”

Draco squeezed your hand and glanced towards you with a sadness you were easily able to see.

“How touching,” Snape says lowly. “So you’re prepared to die at the hands of the Dark Lord? Or perhaps at the hands of his precious aunt who might get to you first?”

“Yes, I am” you stood tall when you answered, hoping to appear courageous for not only a very doubtful Snape but more for Draco who you felt cringe every time your possible death was mentioned.

He said nothing, but his mind was swarming with thoughts and plans on how he could save you from every dangerous person and outcome that tormented his surroundings. There was one constant threat after another and although he’s contemplated on it several times, there was no solution he could come up with where the two of you stayed together and you would survive. He mentally kicks himself, wishing he pushed aside his own selfish needs and never promised you he wouldn’t leave you again and he wishes now more than ever that he could. It wasn’t because he didn’t love you - it was the opposite of that. He loved you almost too much and as dreadful situations were approaching, he wished he could leave you out of the death and destruction that would soon ensue on everyone, especially you, all because of him. All because he needed you by his side for him to even feel any sense of life in him that kept him going. 

“Very well, then, I cannot stop you from these naive decisions,” Snape sighs deeply in defeat and faces the troubled blond, “and what of the vanishing cabinet?”

You felt Draco stiffen, a trembling exhale falling from his lips before responding with, “it’s done.”

“Excellent, expect their arrival soon,” he rounds his desk, stopping right above his chair, “you may leave.”

You hurriedly turned to go, tugging on Draco’s hand as you did so and the both of you drudged out of the office with a heavy sensation settling over the both of you. There was nothing either of you could do now. There was no more stalling with the cabinet, no more keeping quiet, no more hopeful possibilities that things could turn out differently.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

It was nearly physically painful to attend all your classes today. It was fake smiles and conversations that left you feeling pathetically phony -feeling like you were lying to everyone that they were going to be okay when they weren’t. You even made plans with housemates to have a little gathering in the common room later in the week to celebrate someone’s birthday and plans with friends to go study in the library with them. 

It even hurt to see your Professors, always kind and helpful, not knowing that sometime in the near future, they’ll be either fighting for their life or the lives of students at Hogwarts. 

Draco had it even worse. Not one peep from him throughout any of his classes. He was deathly quiet, walking around looking like a kicked puppy and avoided any conversation or interaction with anyone, not even eye contact. He just felt so guilty that he was going to be the reason why death would inevitably wreak havoc on so many souls. He knows eventually the dark wizard he’s resentfully following would have found a way inside the castle walls somehow - you had reminded him that countless times, but it still left him wondering what would have happened if he couldn’t fully mend the cabinet or refused to. 

Halfway through the day, he saw you in Slughorn’s class. The two of you worked diligently together through the whole lesson and when the bell rang, he gave you a small kiss goodbye before walking over to his other class. Your worried eyes followed his retreating figure, leaving you a chilling feeling as he disappeared down the hall.

During his next class, he sat in the far end of a classroom, slumped in his chair with his chin on his palm as he thought of you. He wishes he could be stronger for you, braver and less cowardly. He wished he was unafraid of consequences and could simply grab you and his mother, and eventually even his father, and just apparate to somewhere far away and hidden where the Dark Lord and his followers couldn’t get to him or those he loved. But he knew that no matter how much he wished it or try to convince himself he could; he couldn’t do it and he knows his family wouldn’t let him either. 

When classed had finally ended for the day and the corridors were packed with rushing bodies of people meeting up with their friends as they laughed and talked with a weightless glee, Draco found himself pushing past everyone like a mindless zombie as his feet mindlessly carried him throughout the school with no specific destination. There was no moment of peace in his head, just a raging battlefield of endless awful possibilities. 

You had been scurrying through the halls, hoping to find the mop of platinum blond amongst the busy crowd of people. The scene felt like a maze, twisting and turning through people and corners until you felt like you were on the edge of madness.

There was a small tap on your shoulder before a large hand had snaked down your arm and into your hand with its familiar cold grasp. You sighed in relief, your head turning softly to face your noticeably stressed boyfriend who had put on a very feeble smile for you.

“Can we go somewhere else,” he asked faintly, leaning down towards your ear as he spoke, “I can’t be here anymore.”

You nodded eagerly, moving the two of you towards the nearest exit of the castle, finally releasing a breath of fresh air when you felt your shoes sink into the soft earth below you. There was a humid and muddy smell in the air, the soil, and plants still wet from the on and off rain that had been occurring for the past few days.

Far from the school and on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, there stood a tall and sturdy tree. It was the new tree you had picked for the two of after the first fall out between you and Draco. Its trunk was thick and wide, allowing both of you to hide from anyone who passed by or saw it in the distance. The tresses of leaves nearly showered onto the ground from its long branches that twisted and turned in ways that appeared like it was trying to hug itself. It almost looked like a huge, untrimmed dome, encircling you inside its core while it protected you from unwanted attention. It was perfect.

When you finally reached it, you pushed back some of the leaves so you could walk into the dimly lit and vast space it naturally created and plopped yourself against the trunk with a deep exhale. Draco sat down with you, adjusting himself so that he could lay his head on your lap, humming comfortably when your fingers began their usual work through the soft strands of his hair.

You sat there in silence as the both of you thought, and thought, and thought. It was hard to believe that only this morning you were standing in the room of requirement with him, shocked and distressed that he had finally fixed the vanishing cabinet. Now Snape and the rest of the Death Eaters were aware of the new opening into Hogwarts, preparing to set ablaze the school with pain and some sort of destruction.

You looked down at the boy in your lap, a permanent wrinkle in between his eyebrows as he lied staring straight ahead, a lost look in his gray eyes that you hadn’t seen in so long.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly. One of your hands had trailed from his hair and rested gently on his forehead, your pinky gently trying to smooth out the crease between his eyes.

“I should have never fixed the cabinet,” he sighs and sits up to face you. You noticed the glassy look and reddened lash lines, the storming tears ready to come out at any moment.

"Draco, anything that happens next is not your fault,” you tried to reassure but it only made him feel worse.

“No, it’s not only that,” he lets out a shaky breath, letting the first tear fall that he couldn’t hold back. “I have to dedicate myself to my second task now.”

You froze as you remembered the biggest responsibility he had, demanded to him by the Dark Lord himself - the obligation of killing Dumbledore. A mere 16-year-old boy, who was in the middle of a collapsed world and broken judgments, was burdened with the worst trial of them all.

Draco shuddered at the thought, moving to sit beside you against the tree as he sat with his knees pulled to his chest and the waterfall of tears now falling freely down his face.

“I can’t kill him, I don’t want to kill him,” he lamented, “I can’t do it. He’ll kill me first before I can even try.”

You placed a hand on his arm, rubbing soothing circles into it as you let him cry and thought of what you could say. The vanishing cabinet was one thing, but this, this was a life. This was someone who is known to be the most powerful wizard of all time, the only one alive right now who the enemy truly feared. This was someone who everyone needed alive at this time. If Draco went through with this, he would never be able to recover. You know he doesn’t want to do it, at all, and having everyone else in his life nag at him in encouragement is the opposite of what he needs. You truly couldn’t give him any advice on what he can do or why he should.

“I don’t think he would,” you started quietly, trying to find the words to piece together what you wanted to say, “kill you, I mean. I think you’re so used to You-Know-Who, that, you forget Dumbledore isn't evil and is merciful. And maybe, if you stall long enough, someone else can do it? Maybe Bellatrix.”

Draco let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head at the suggestion, “my dear aunt Bellatrix more than anyone, wants me to do it.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” you frowned, letting the back of your head fall against the tree as you stared up at the swinging greenery above you.

“You can help by keeping yourself alive,” he sniffles, his cold hand enveloping itself in yours as he spoke. “If there was one good thing that came out of all of this, it’s you. I think you not being here on this Earth, would feel far, far worse than taking Dumbledore’s life.”

He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a warm kiss onto the skin before he held it against his chest.

“I wish I could put you in a bubble and send you up above the clouds so you could watch the sky all day and be happy, and most of all safe from everything evil,” he muses, a slight smile on your lips as you listened to his wish. His fingers began twirling around the band on your wrist, the same band he had gifted you the night before when everything seemed to be okay, in a sense.

“Evil will always be here, Dark Wizards present or not,” you remind him gingerly, “just as there will always be good. It’s a balance, one can’t be here without the other.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he sighs. “But I still wish it was possible to send you away in a bubble.”

“If that was possible, you know you would come with me, right?” You turn your head, smiling at him when he met your eyes. You brought up your held hand, wiping away the stray tears that had lingered on his paled cheeks as he kept a firm grasp on your wrist.

“I would love to go with you,” he said tenderly, heart-swelling at how easy you made him feel calm and present. It was wonderous, he felt, how someone had managed to make him feel this way. He never would have thought he’d have someone who genuinely loved him and he loved back, in his love life. Especially not at this time, in this year, where he was facing his worst tribulations and turmoils. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you now staring up into the darkening grayed sky that peeked through the mess of leaves above. 

“It’s getting dark, we should probably go soon,” you mumble tiredly, noticing how the moon was already starting to make an appearance behind the heavy gray clouds. "And it looks like it's about to rain."

As soon as the words left your mouth, there was a loud cracking of thunder, the tree’s branches surrounding you suddenly shaking at the sound. You shot up to your feet, Draco following closely as the two of you heard a whining sound coming directly from the trunk of the tree. Its leaves began to move wildly in the wind that approached, more booming of thundering filling the air as a storm above began to brew. The branches began to swing carefully and more inwards as if it was alive and closing itself up from any danger that was coming from around or above it. The leaves were falling over one another, covering up any spaces in the tree that the constricting branches couldn’t cover.

“Draco,” you say timidly, reaching for his hand in fear, “is it just me, or is the tree moving?”

The space underneath the tree had shrunken significantly, it was now a small circle going around the trunk that was big enough to walk around but not enough to run through like you once could. Whatever light the outside was able to offer was now gone, the cracking and compressing branches and leaf clumps blocked out everything from the outside, including the rain that you could very loudly hear pattering against the fronds above you.

“I think its closed us in,” Draco mutters, moving you behind his back as he pulled his wand from his pocket and whispered a quick, ‘lumos,’ so that the two of you could see. He held you behind him protectively as he stepped towards the walls of the tree, pushing against the leaves and branches that were now tightly contracted together that allowed no room for escape. “We’re stuck in here - unless you want to blast a hole through it.”

“No!” you exclaim immediately. You moved away from him and walked towards the trunk of the tree, placing a gentle hand on the dry wood that still seemed to be faintly buzzing from its movement. “We’re not going to hurt it.”

“Y/N, we’re stuck in here, no one knows where we are-” he tries to reason more but you shush him quickly.

“And that’s such a bad thing?” you scoff, moving to press your ear against the wood as you tried to examine it more. You heard the same whining from earlier but much weaker now, its bellows fading now as it felt protected from the storm.

“What are you doing?” 

There was confusion written all over the blond’s face as he watched you inspect the tree, curious and concerned with your attentiveness.

“Dray, come here,” you rushed out, motioning towards you so he would hurry over. He let you grab his free hand when he reached you since his wand hand was still casting the only light around you. You placed it against the trunk of the tree with yours, a sudden vibration shooting up his arm at the contact with the wood. “The tree is a sentient. It’s alive and very aware.”

“What, so like the Whomping Willow?”

“Exactly like that, but not aggressive at all,” you nod, beaming up at him. “I think it knows we’re here too.”

For a moment, there was finally a fleeting feeling of glee as both of your worries from the outside left you, allowing reverence and excitement to fill you and spread to Draco.

“You speak tree now?” He snickers, smirking at you when you rolled your eyes.

You leaned your head against the tree, closing your eyes as you quietly thanked it for its protection from the thunder and the rain and its beauty. Draco’s gaze stayed on you, watching you with wonder and fullness in his heart. He began to question himself how someone like you was real, who was so caring with everything you touched, from nature to people. You radiated bravery, loyalty, strong intelligence, and ambition wherever you went and in every situation, you were in. 

How did I get so lucky, he kept thinking.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a bright glittering blue light, and then a purple one, then a pink, and a white. He fully looked up and inhaled faintly when he saw what they all were. 

Small translucent and thin stringy flowers of all colors that he could think of began to illuminate themselves from the many branches of the tree before floating off, dancing and twirling in the air as they descended towards the two of you. He noticed they looked nearly identical to spider lily’s - all thanks to Professor Sprout when he was forced to learn several different flowers in her class. 

He nudged you gently, pointing up to the air when you opened your eyes and you stepped away from the trunk to look around in awe. There must have been at least a hundred of them spinning and flying, their petals bouncing up and down as they carried themselves around the open area.

You reached up your palm, catching one in your hand as it landed daintily and glowed a bright rose color, its petals still lifting up and down like if it was keeping itself afloat. You turned to bring it carefully towards Draco, almost jumping up and down in excitement that it was on you. He turned off the light of his wand with an easy, ‘nox,’ putting it away now that the area was now fully lit up in beautifully twinkling lights. He smiled down at you, placing both his hands under your one as he helped you hold it up since you were nearly exploding from happiness.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” you whispered in wonder. “I didn’t even know trees could do this! Our tree!”

“I think this is only because of you, darling,” he whispers back. “You have a way of bringing dull things to life.”

Your gaze flickered up, smiling warmly at him before pushing up gently on the flower, encouraging it to fly away so you could move. You got closer to the Slytherin, his arms encircling around your waist once you were flush against him. One of the green flowers had landed on the top of his hair, settling itself carefully on him. 

“I’ve got one on me, haven’t I?” He chuckles and you nod, a bright smile on your face as you looked between him and the flower.

“It likes you,” you beam. “But, not as much as I do.”

He laughs a real laugh of delight and amusement, squeezing you delicately tighter against him. 

“Obviously.”

You stood on your tip-toes to reach his tall figure, craning your face up and pressing your lips against his in a loving match. You parted your lips and allowed his warmth to wash all over you in comfort, all thoughts being numbed at the feeling. As your lips continued to move against his, you began to feel a tickling all over your hair and whatever skin was exposed to the air. You pulled away from him curiously, gasping softly when you saw that all the flowers had flown down towards the two of you landing and sitting on you both as if they were attracted like magnets.

Draco moved one of his clasped hands from your waist up to your cheek, grinning to himself as you leaned your head into his touch. 

“I’m glad this tree has us trapped in here,” he mutters. “I wouldn't want to be anywhere else with the one I love.”

“I love you more, Draco.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

The two of you awoke to the sound of cracking wood and swooshing leaves, a cold breeze following quickly as it encompassed you. You gradually opened your eyes, seeing that the tree was expanding and moving back to its original state and appearing back to normal. Carefully sitting up, you realized the flowers were gone, there was no sight of them anywhere. If it wasn’t for Draco being there with you, you would’ve thought you imagined the whole thing.

Speaking of the said boy, he groaned beneath you, balled fists going up to his closed eyes as he began to rub his sleep away. The early morning light had streamed through weakly through the clouds and through the leaves onto you. 

“I wonder if anyone looked for us,” you yawned carelessly, standing up and flattening down the wrinkles on your clothes. You outstretched your hands and back, deeply exhaling at the feeling of relief from the ground below you.

“Probably,” Draco answered sleepily, standing himself up and wiping himself off of all dirt and grime. “We should go back now before it locks s in again.”

You skipped over to the trunk of the tree, placing your hand on it once again and whispering to it a tender, “thank you.”

You could’ve sworn it whined something back, but you brushed it off at your drowsiness and continued towards the castle with Draco.

The two of you walked quietly hand in hand to your common room, stopping outside of it with a sigh as you read a clock on a far-away wall.

7:42 AM

“How long have we been out?” You question fearfully.

“No idea,” he yawns. “Must have been a very long time though.”

Draco freezes in his spot, feeling his body crawl with what felt like tiny spiders when he saw who was standing at the end of one of the nearby corridors, a scowl on his face when they made eye contact.

“Go inside and get yourself cleaned up and ready for the day, love,” he rushed out, placing a quick kiss on your forehead and parted lips as he nudged you towards the entrance. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You tiredly nodded, giving the required password to the common room before sneakily stepping inside and tip-toeing towards your room.

When the doors finally closed and you were gone, Draco turned down the corridor and started towards a furious Snape down the way. The raven-haired man stayed glued where he stood, patiently waiting for the young Death Eater to approach him so he could swiftly unleash hell on him.

“I have been searching for you all night,” Snape snapped lowly. “Where did the two of you run off to?”

“We got stuck somewhere, but I’m here now,” Draco answers, staring into the accusatory eyes in front of him. 

“You better hope you kissed her your final goodbye,” he snarls. “They’re coming tonight, and you must carry out your last duty - tonight.”

“Tonight?” Draco echoes emptily, feeling like whatever happiness he had left in his body from last night was slowly trickling down his body and out into the floor like a sad, melted popsicle.

“Yes, and after tonight you will no longer be a student here,” Snape reminds with a hushed tone. “Miss Y/L/N cannot follow you. I hope you understand that. it would be incredibly dangerous for you and her.”

“No,” Draco begins to shake his head in refusal, his heart dropping to his stomach as the realities began to set in. “I don’t want to leave her, I don’t know how.”

“I think it’s time you start figuring out how,” his Professor suggests inconsiderately. “Room of requirement at nightfall, you’re opening up the cabinet for them so they’re able to transport. Come alone and prepared to leave the school.”

Before Draco could try to argue, Snape brushed past him and disappeared down the corridor and past a corner, leaving behind a pain-stricken boy who was stupidly in love with someone he couldn’t find in him to let go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Something was off and unsettling, you noticed. You weren’t sure where it came from, but you felt it eat away at you even though nothing had happened to you. You came home feeling wonderful from an impromptu dreamy night with Draco, completely love-struck and ditzy and halfway through your shower was when it was all washed away and replaced with dread.

You wondered if this is somehow how Draco was feeling before deciding against your gut.

I’m not a mind reader, you thought repeatedly.

It was odd how you saw him nowhere around the school, even more, odd when you hadn’t seen him in your shared Potions class that left you partnering up with your friend who didn’t mind the on and off switching. She asked you eagerly about your disappearance, expecting juicy details but was immediately bored when you gave her a watered-down story of what had happened.

“Oh, we were just watching the stars and accidentally fell asleep outside,” you lied, trying to force excitement in your voice to make the story more believable.

“That’s it?” she deadpanned. “You guys are so boring. Also, what if something attacked you guys? The Forbidden Forest is right there.”

You rolled your eyes, secretly wishing the two of you really were a simple boring couple and not facing the most life-threatening and scariest adversities. 

“I’m sure one of us would’ve woken up if we heard something,” you shrug and she sighs, shaking her head.

There was still no sign of him after this class. And there was still no sign of him after the rest of the schooling day had ended.

You sat with your friends in the bumbling busy courtyard, listening to them quietly as they chatted happily. You were worried out of your mind, the pit in your stomach growing wider when you saw Draco’s familiar group of Slytherins gathered together in the distance, not a single platinum head in sight.

As the day continued into the evening and people were making their trip over to the Great Hall, you made up a quick excuse to your friends and broke off from them to scourge the school in its emptiness. It was quickly getting dark, you finally decided to follow your instincts and let yourself bound down the stoned staircase towards the even darker lit dungeons. It was empty and cold, a dooming atmosphere for no apparent reason.

As you were about to turn around, you heard the door to the Slytherin common room open and relief flooded you when you saw Draco emerge from the exit with a new black suit on, perfectly styled and gelled hair, and a somber expression on his face. He looked paler than usual, almost gray, the way he looked when you had found him that day in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom with a curse ravaging his body.

“Draco!” You called out to him excitedly, running towards him and wrapping your arms around him tightly when you reached him. He felt rigid underneath your touch, a distant look in his eyes as he looked down at you quickly. “Where have you been all day?”

“I’ve had to take care of some stuff,” he murmurs in response.

“Are you okay?” You ask carefully as you observed him. He was cold, emotionally, and physically. He resembled his house’s ghost, the Bloody Baron, cold and angry with hidden despair - just without all the blood. 

“I’m fine.”

You stepped away from him at his answer, peering up at him in confusion at his sudden aloofness. 

“I need to tell you something,” he ends up breathing out after a moment of awkward tension. His hand wraps around your forearm instead of his usual spot in your hand, nearly dragging you towards an empty classroom that was a few feet away from where you both stood.

He closed the door warily behind him once the two of you were inside, the dingy lamps in the room automatically lighting up when they sensed a presence so you wouldn’t be left in the dark.

“So, what do you need to tell me?” You begin to wring your hands in distress, not feeling hopeful under his miserable gaze.

“We need to end this, here, right now,” he spits out quickly, a troubled expression taking over his features as soon as the words left his lips.

There was a thick silence that fell over the room, a heavy tension that grew with every passing second was bursting at the seams of the walls. You couldn’t think straight, your heart feeling like it had fallen into your back and your stomach bubbling dangerously with bile you desperately wanted to release.

“What do you mean,” you ask stupidly. The tiniest piece of you was desperately hoping that he had meant something completely different than your relationship.

“You and me,” he pointed between the two of you brokenly. “I have to kill Dumbledore tonight, and then I have to leave.”

“I’ll go with you,” you promptly offer, nodding in agreement with yourself.

“You can’t,” he asserts sadly, walking up to you and placing both hands on either side of your biceps, gripping you tightly in place as if you were toppling over. “Y/N, this is the one time you can’t help me. If you come with me tonight, someone will hurt you.”

You stared up at him in dread, relentless tears streaming down your face as he stared back at you with the same look. He was breaking apart, his insides shriveling up in agony while he spoke and continued to hurt you.

“But when will I see you again?” you cry out hoarsely, letting your head fall against his chest as he moves to hug you tightly.

“I don’t know,” he whispers out. 

“Draco, please let me come with you,” you begin to plead into the jacket of his suit. “I’ll hide, transfigure me into a goblet, anything! Just please don’t leave again. You promised!”

“I can’t,” he shakes his head. You felt his hot tears land onto the top of your hair, adding more fuel to your anguish. “You have to stay here, in this room, until I’m gone.”

“Are you that dense?” you cry wildly, pushing yourself away from him as you gave him a look of pure anger. “You expect to let me wait here like a sitting duck while I could be out there helping you somehow.”

Draco watched you with remorse, his hand reaching into his suit pocket before drawing his wand out on you with a vigorous trembling hand. You gasped, quick to reach for your own with the same shakiness before it was thrown out of your grasp the second you pointed it at him.

“Expelliarmus,” he said quickly, voice matching his hand. He looked at you painfully again before sputtering out, “locomotor mortis.”

Your legs locked together from beneath you, sending you tumbling backward into an empty desk beside you. You caught yourself on the edges of the desk, staring agape at a shuddering Draco a few feet away.

“I’m sorry,” he cried hard, “I’m so sorry, but I have to keep you safe.”

“Draco, I swear,” you wailed out in despair, “if you leave me here, I will never forgive you.”

Draco halted, contemplating his next move for only a minute. His heart thudding fast against his chest, yearning to give into you as he weighed out his options. He swallowed thickly and turned on his heel towards the door. When his hand landed on the brass handle, he turned back one more time to look at you and felt his world completely and irreversibly shatter.

You were in hysterics, legs stuck together and your hands barely being able to hold yourself up on the desk. You had a despondency about you now, weeping strongly in heartbreak that was caused by him.

He speedily opened the door and threw himself out, shutting it tightly once again and placing his wand against the handle.

“Colloportus,” the lock chimed with a magnifying and powerful click.

He let his head quietly fall against the door, tormenting himself further when he heard your continued cries and now yelling out a pained, “you promised!”

Nothing was holding him together now as he ripped himself away from the door and began his walk to the room of requirement. There was no more hope, no more tranquility, no more comfort. He couldn’t run back to you at the end of the night and let you heal him with soft reassurances and tender kisses. He couldn’t feel your hug anymore or the way you’d lull him to sleep after a rough day with your hands in his hair. It was all gone, all of it. Including you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

You don’t know how long you cried or when you had fallen to the floor and accidentally fallen asleep in your hopelessness.

When you finally woke up, the room was especially dark now, the lights having been dimmed to nothing as the room had thought you were gone. All you could feel was grief and dejection, everything you knew and loved had been torn away from you; because it was.

When you subsequently felt some of your energy return, you rolled yourself around the floor, extending your arm to grab onto something sturdy so you could hoist yourself up and begin looking for your wand. Luckily, the lights lit up again when they sensed your figure begin to hop around the room, allowing you to search much more easily.

You hopped down each row of scattered desks, searching high and low for where your wand might have been thrown when you were disarmed. You mentally cursed Draco again for the thousandth time that night, the throbbing in your body growing stronger while you thought of how he had left.

You found yourself regretting the bluff you threw at him, feeling stupid now that he was gone with the idea that you might hate him. You regretted letting your rage and sadness get to you, yelling at him things you didn’t mean all because you were angry he was trying to do to protect you.

Stuck in your head and mindlessly hopping towards the front of the room where Draco had hit you with both spells, you didn’t see your wand under your shoe until it had rolled out from underneath you, sending you falling into a set of desks that were lined up behind you. 

The impact of the fall barely phased you, weakly shifting yourself upright and bending over and outstretching a hand towards your wand. When you finally felt it between your fingers, you dragged it towards you and into your grasp before hurriedly pointing it towards your legs and muttering the counter-curse to unbind yourself. Once you felt the feeling back in your legs, you jumped up and ran towards the door only to slam against it, unknowing to you that Draco had also spelled the door before he left.

“Arse,” you mutter, touching your wand against the lock and speaking out a clear, “alohomora.”

When you stepped out into the gloomy freezing corridor of the dungeons, you knew something was wrong. It was clear in the air that something awful had just happened, every feeling of sadness seeping deep into the stone of the castle.

You flew up the stairs, running as fast as you could towards the Quad where everyone was gathered like zombies. Your legs continued carrying you out, looking up at the sky to see a huge Dark Mark painted in the grayed clouds above. Your gut was screaming at you the reason why, but you didn’t want to believe it until you had seen the evidence of your thoughts lying on the ground not far from you.

It was Dumbledore, motionless, and gone.

Harry was sitting above him, Ginny hugging him tightly as he cried quietly. You felt your tears prick your eyes, feeling guilty that you had known all along what was going to happen, guilty that you couldn’t do anything to stop it, guilty that there was no one to challenge against the evil that doomed the wizarding world, guilty that you couldn’t help Draco against it.

You kept telling yourself he couldn’t have done it, he couldn’t have, but it was clear as day - the scene in front of you. You swallowed the lump in your throat, allowing yourself to cry with your school in grief, crying even more while the second loss you experienced tonight had begun to work itself back into your tears.

And when everyone had cleared out, and it was just Harry and a few others, including some Professors, you begrudgingly made yourself walk up to the group. It was hard, seeing Harry and his friends stare at you with a look you couldn’t quite place. A look between pity and something unidentifiable.

“I’m sorry,” you let out hoarsely to Harry as you finally neared them. “I know this must be hard for you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he answered awkwardly. “I saw it happen, you know.”

“Oh,” you frown, rubbing your sweaty palms against your jeans as you waited for him to curse you out, to yell at you for Draco’s wrongdoings and murderous feat. But he didn’t. He only stared at you sadly.

“If you wanted to know,” he began, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he spoke, “Malfoy didn’t do it, he couldn’t.”

There was a solace that ran deep within you at the revelation. A shaky exhale quietly falling from your lips while you tried to hide your relief. You silently thanked the stars for sparing Draco, knowing now that there was still hope he could be saved.

“So then who did it?” You ask timidly.

“Snape,” he shook his head glumly, “it was Snape.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

There was a loud snapping sound ringing throughout the Malfoy Manor as Draco apparated inside the living room with his mother, clutching tightly onto her as he stumbled over his feet, feeling sick to his stomach and distraught at everything he had to live through that night. 

He fell to his knees, backing himself up against a wall as he began clutching at his chest, gasping desperately for air as his panic attack had started to tear away at him. He was breathing erratically, tears falling from his eyes in rivers as he tried to remove the suit jacket that felt too tight against him.

Narcissa Malfoy looked down at her son, fear and sorrow suddenly undertaking her as she bent down to sit in front of him. She was momentarily glad she felt the need to meet the others near the outskirts of the school’s failing barrier, instantly grabbing Draco from the group when everyone was planning on staying longer for further destruction. One broken look on his face was all she needed to whirl the two of them out of there and back into their large empty house.

“Breathe, Draco,” she said softly, placing a warm hand on his wet cheek as he continued to sob. “Breathe.”

“I left her,” he choked out through his tears, “mother, I left her!”

“Who?” Narcissa asked, puzzled. “Who did you leave?”

But he didn’t answer her. He only cried harder and it didn’t stop even though his mother was holding him reassuringly in her embrace. She swiftly realized that there was more than he was letting on, and she knew that these weren’t only tears from what had happened with his failed task, she knew his tears mostly came from an ache deep within his heart, from an anguishing love.

“I left her there!” He cried loudly in her arms, clutching onto her tightly as he continued to struggle for his breath and sanity. She felt her own heart begin to break, wishing so deeply she could remove all hurt that stabbed at him.

“Draco, my love,” she tried again gently, “who did you leave?”

“Y/N,” he croaked out, “I left Y/N.”

PART 5

TAGLIST:

@viirgobbyy​ @bluesunflowersz​ @dreamyvcid​ @goddessofgames @natt-nih​ @cheesecakes-randomshitz​ @supersouthy​ @rebellionsarebuiltonhopee​ @peter-parka​ @thefandomplace​ @angelofslytherin​ @blueleonor​ @karentheugly​

(I’m sorry if I forgot anyone, I <3 all of you and everyone who read this)

[thankskenpenders]

Enerjak Reborn: Epilogue

It’s time to answer the question on everybody’s mind. How did Ken respond to Ian killing off Locke, one of his pet characters?

Well, the answer, as you should expect, is: poorly

Now, it’s important to remind everyone that Ken has not actually read the arc. He never read any of Ian’s run, to my knowledge. But his fans were sure to tell him all about it and ask him how he felt

Eventually, in 2010, two years after this issue dropped, we got a response from Ken talking about how he felt about Ian’s run. (Again, even though he wasn’t actually reading it himself.) Said response is worth reading in full if you’re interested in all this drama and Ken’s mindset. You literally get to see the guy brag about how he actively ignored what Bollers was doing when the two were sharing writing duties, as if this is a good thing that makes him a better writer. He also criticizes Ian for using the previous writers’ characters instead of introducing even more characters to the bloated Archie cast in his first few years on the series. But the relevant part to the discussion of Enerjak reborn is here:

“I especially don’t consider anything either does with any of the echidna characters – especially Locke – to be canon as neither created the characters nor established them in stories as the viable fan favorites they’ve become. No matter what Ian writes, he can never alter the fact that in MY universe, the events of Locke’s passing as depicted in SONIC #143 is canon. Anything he writes can easily be counter-written by a better story with an alternative solution.”

Let’s just brush past the very funny part where he calls Locke a “viable fan favorite”

So yeah. Penders was VERY unhappy with the way Ian wrote Locke, and the way Locke’s death in Enerjak Reborn meant that the timeline depicted in Mobius: 25 Years Later wasn’t the one true future of the series. He’s also gone on record saying that he thinks Ian didn’t get the relationship between Locke and Knuckles. When asked about Ian’s work, this has always been one of the major things that’s bothered him

On a broader level, his ramblings here are reflective of how he views comic franchises in general. A particularly illustrative quote from him is provided in the comments section below the article I linked:

“The only work I consider significant to any character is the work done by the original creators. Anything done afterwards by anyone else pretty much doesn’t count. For example, I consider the original issues of FANTASTIC FOUR by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby to be the only stories that matter in the entire run. Anything being done today is by writers and artists who are simply building off the work Stan and Jack originated. I apply this standard to just about every character I ever enjoyed over the years.”

This odd mindset explains a lot about Ken. It explains why he hates that Ian kept using his characters, and why he actively avoided building off of the work of his contemporary writers at Archie. I can see what he means on some level, of course. When another writer comes in and adds more novels to a series after the original author dies, I generally tend to ignore those. And I skipped a good chunk of Twin Peaks season 2 because it had less involvement from creators David Lynch and Mark Frost, making a lot of it feel like filler. But we’re talking about a licensed comic, one that had been a collaboration between multiple writers based on the work done for the games and cartoons from the very beginning. Ken was never the sole writer--he wasn’t even there for the first year--and he was writing stories centered around characters he hadn’t created like Sonic, Sally, and Knuckles. He doesn’t take credit for creating any of those characters, but the hypocrisy still seems to be lost on him

But of course, we’re not just talking about Ian’s handling of all of Archie Sonic here. We’re talking about Locke. And as Ken has said himself, Locke was based partially on his own father. And that’s really the kicker here

As I’ve said many times before, I try to avoid psychoanalyzing Penders and digging into his personal life. I don’t know the guy, and that’s his own business. But it’s hard not to when he literally says shit like THIS to fans

Locke is emotionally abusive towards his wife and son. Locke is also based on Ken’s dad. Ken refuses to see Locke as abusive, even though that’s exactly what he wrote, because that would mean acknowledging that his own father was abusive. So there’s always an excuse for why father knows best. It was a different era! They’re not humans! He could see the future! He might have hurt Knuckles, but it toughened him up, and he was always there for him in the end! The dad is never, ever at fault. The moms, on the other hands, are mere bystanders to the child rearing done by the dads. It’s just sad, really

I get why Ken would be bitter that Ian took this fictionalized version of his late dad, went “hey, this guy’s an asshole,” and then killed him off. I get why that would upset somebody. He wrote a very personal story there. But it’s not like Ian was pouring salt in a fresh wound--Ken lost his father all the way back in 1982. I know this because Ken literally dedicated the M25YL story about his version of Locke’s death to his dad. It had been nearly 30 years when he wrote this response to Ian’s work. That’s plenty of time to see a goddamn therapist instead of projecting all of your baggage onto Knuckles the Echidna and writing stories for kids about how you should never question your dad ever

The irony, though, is that Ian’s different take on Locke is arguably way more nuanced than Ken’s ever was. In his final moments, Ian’s Locke turns into this tragic figure who only realizes too late that the way of life the Brotherhood had raised him to believe was a mistake, that he had failed his son by passing those beliefs on to him. But he’s still held responsible for what he did. He’s a horrible dad, and the characters around him call him out for his failures, but you pity him for only now realizing what he had done

Ken, on the other hand, gestures at Locke doing horrible things, then tells you to forget about all that and stop questioning him. Knuckles pretends he has a totally normal Leave it to Beaver-ass father-son relationship as soon as they reunite in the Knuckles series. As an adult he thinks back on how great a job Locke did raising him, even though Locke literally took him from his mother, raised him to believe that his mother and the rest of his species were all dead, and then pretended he himself was dead for six years of his son’s childhood (among MANY other things)

M25YL gestures at those very same themes of not repeating your parents’ mistakes that Ian touched on in Locke’s final moments. Knuckles is raising Lara-Su very differently from how Locke raised him, and Locke admits that he wishes he had raised Knuckles differently on his deathbed. But his decision to suddenly admit wrongdoing in this flashback to his death feels unearned and arbitrary. Locke is never at fault. We cannot question Locke. Knuckles turned out fine, so don’t worry about it. Locke might regret the way Knuckles raised him, but Knuckles is not allowed to hold any ill will towards his father or question his methods whatsoever. We’re allowed to gesture at the idea that Knuckles doesn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the previous generations, but those vague mistakes aren’t allowed to be anyone’s fault. That’s just “how things were”

Ken would do a lot more than just complain about Ian’s handling of Locke on the internet, though. Because you see, the way Ian wrote Locke is commonly cited as one of the main reasons why Ken started copyrighting his work, right up there with Bioware basing the story of Sonic Chronicles partially off of the Knuckles comics without his blessing. And those copyrights, of course, were what started the legal battle that would kill off the original Archieverse

[saphirered]

The first and only time Lucien displayed any vulnerability was when Jester called him "dreamy," after which he alluded to an unpleasant upbringing. I was wondering if you could write something wherein the reader (human) shows interest in him? Being his typical, condescending self, he thinks it's because the reader was with Molly, only to find out the reader is genuinely interested in him, and maybe that thaws his heart a little?

I hope this turned out to your liking. Love me a condescending tiefling who doesn't acknowledge views other than his own. Hope you enjoy! 😘

Lucien, previously mostly indifferent to you, has been keeping his distance after you read him like an open book in the card reading incident with Jester. Maybe having this bunch of gullible but curious adventurers tagging along was a terrible idea after all. Maybe best get rid of them now before it’s too late. But there you are being your stupid charming, beautiful self and something within him hesitates, even more so than with the others. You are an enigma he needs to figure out. Right now you’re an obstacle standing in the way of his goal because every second he’s paying more attention to you, he’s less on guard and that might just compromise his endgame.

Lucien is entertaining the thought to just talk his way into your bed, and get it over with. Maybe once he’s gotten his bias for you out of his system he can get back to work. Besides, you’ve shown some interest in him already, rooted in your connection with the fragment previous to his own return. Same face, same body, a few shared traits maybe, but not the same person. A fatal flaw on your end…

Perhaps Lucien can turn this into leverage, play into the parts you might latch onto believing that maybe the fragment might return to the surface if you call to him. Or play into your feelings for the fragment, play sympathetic and play upon a mutual interest. Because maybe if he plays along, you could be the game changer, the leverage, and give him answers and insights in this Mighty Nein. You might be the key to all the answers he’s seeking. And if achieving this goal results in the two of you sleeping together, two birds one stone. There’s no negative outcome for him here. Either you turn on your friends and join him or eventually stand against him and he’d already have gotten what he wants from you.

From the moment you met Lucien it was abundantly clear he’s not Molly. Yes there are some similarities and habits they share but beyond a surface level they’re very different. That doesn’t mean you weren’t curious to get to know this version of the tiefling. While he has many flaws, some that cannot be overlooked, there’s something about Lucien that commands attention. With how closed off this version is you played into the parts you did recognise, if only to make your encounters with him a bit more pleasant and less tense, be that for yourself or others around you.

Your encounters, especially when eventually traveling together grew more frequent and less tense to the point one could call them enjoyable. Of course the Nein caught onto this and saw it as hope their, your Mollymauk might still be in there. He might, maybe not in the way they hoped. Right now Lucien is here and he’s here to stay. Even from the start you didn’t want to make enemies with the man be that out of self preservation, your own curiosity or something else entirely. Making enemies with the Nonagon just seemed stupid and getting to know him, looking past all the theatrics he put up for the Nein, he’a actually a half decent person.

You’d been making progress, getting to know Lucien, spending more time with him. From the start you didn’t hide the fact that you may or may not have a thing for him. Seems like your taste hasn’t changed; charming enigmatic drama queens with great style, a dash of egoism and some hedonism thrown into the mix. It was all going well and you could see the walls slowly beginning to crumble giving you a peak behind the curtain; Lucien without the facade but then Jester came along with Molly’s cards. Curiosity peaked of course Lucien took her up on her offer of a reading.

You saw that twitch, saw the walls come down and you got a peak behind the curtain just like you had wanted. Only it lasted much shorter than you had hoped the walls rose and the curtain closed once more. You got some insights in his past based of his responses and with how close attention you were paying you know he was aware of what you were able to glean. You kind of pity him for the past he went through even the present he lives now. You recall Molly deflecting, changing the subject, doing anything to avoid confrontation if it didn’t suit him. After that card reading you got the same from Lucien this time in the form of a cold shoulder. Dammit Jester. Now you have to find a way to fix this.

The others are asleep in the dome save for Fjord currently keeping watch and you awake and bothered. A ways away at a comfortable distance is the camp of the Tombtakers. They too are asleep with the exception of Lucien who sits in front of the fire staring into the flames. Getting up with a soft puff you make eye contact with Fjord. A confused ‘where are you going?’ glance from the half-orc leads you to respond with a nod in the direction of Lucien which in turn leads to a non-verbal argument with the man, an argument that won’t stop you so when the last is said and done you just wave and step outside of the bubble, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders to block out the cold Eiselcross air.

You’re not deliberately quiet padding your way through the thick layer of snow and know full well you should be in sight of Lucien but he doesn’t in any way respond to you. His eyes stay trained on the fire in front of him so you walk up beside him. The cold very much bothers you and you’re beginning to regret your decision of walking out of the comforts of the dome just because you want to sort out this sudden cold behaviour towards you and get it over with. It may take a leap of faith to do so but if that’s what it takes, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

“Hey, I could really do with some of the perks of that infernal bloodline if you don’t mind.” You nudge his leg with your foot pulling the blanket around your shoulders just a little bit tighter. Shaken out of whatever trance Lucien had allowed himself to slip in he looks up at you.

“If you’re so cold you can go back to the comforts of that dome so handily provided by your wizard friend.” Ouch. That’s icy cold but you haven’t come this far by just accepting rude comments. You’re stubborn and you’re not backing down just yet.

“Don’t patronise me.” You sit down keeping a good foot or so between the two of you as you stare into the flames, the warmth not nearly enough to actually keep you comfortable, you’re shivering. Your presence alone puts Lucien on edge so here you’ll stay. Besides, if you get hypothermia, the clerics can fix you right?

About fifteen minutes pass and your quivering doesn’t end, your breath visible in the air, you are a constant nuisance to his previously peaceful evening of plotting. Why did you have to leave your bloody bubble and come bother him? Because right now you’re the only thing on his mind and all previous queries and grand plans have left his brain and there’s only you. Maybe you’ll just leave if he keeps this going? No you won’t. Lucien knows you longer than today and once you’ve set your mind to something you’re not letting go until you’re satisfied. Right now you’re anything but satisfied.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with because I need to get back to figuring out if you lot will remain useful or a thorn in my drawers. What do you want?” Lucien sneers studying you. His red eyes harsh, you get a clear view of the frustration and tension.

“We’re cutting the crap? Okay. All fine with me.” You clasp your hands together and lean your chin on them as you address the tiefling. “Why have you been avoiding me and giving me the cold shoulder ever since you showed an ounce of vulnerability?” Two can play this game and if you know anything from Molly it’s that if you get him frustrated and on edge he’s more likely to let things slip he’d usually keep in. By the looks of it Lucien isn’t much different in that aspect but he has a bit more self control.

“Perhaps I’m just done playing the part of a long gone fragment you’re desperate to hold onto, darling. It’s been fun but the game’s over.” Lucien’s this close to deadpanning that sentence. Close but not close enough. You laugh almost disappointed. Such a blatant lie, you expected better from this one.

“Laugh all you want. The game is over.”

“You’ve spent too much time with people agreeing with you all the time that you seem to have forgotten what it’s like to have your views misalign with that of another.”

“Now you’re the one patronising me.” He jabs back. Eyebrow raised you press your lips together. So looks like it’s not going to take much for you to get answers out of Lucien.

“I’m not the one spooked by some cards and the notion of showing a fraction of vulnerability in a moment the majority won’t even catch on to let alone understand.” Lucien turns to face you and glares.

“Are you done yet?” Oh you’re not nearly done but you also know Lucien can be fickle and you don’t want to push too far. You’ve got one more up your sleeve. Okay maybe a few more… Should you give him a choice on which one he’d like to address? You snort. Lucien grabs you by the shoulder and turns you to face him with disapproving expression trying to cover the frustration and how much you’re getting on his nerves right now; less because of your attitude and more because of his own issues.

“So your game ends before you weasel your way into my bed and attempt to use me for your own benefit, manipulate me until I spill all my friends and I’s secrets, and cast me aside once I’ve outlived my usefulness?” Nail. On. The Head. Lucien’s taken aback by that one. The shock’s clear and he does not like it at all you caught him off guard by exposing his plans just like that when you’d been playing along just as he had been trying to get you to.

“How’s that been working out for you? Or do you count attachment as a weakness now as well? Since vulnerability already is a major one in your opinion.” Lucien takes the verbal attacks and he’s none to happy about it. He’s just lost his advantage, or at least the advantage he thought he had. Maybe he got so caught up in this little game that the line between him playing and him actually being blurred and you just called him out on exactly that.

“Depends. How well is it working for you?”

“You trying to charm your way into my bed? Peachy. You trying to manipulate me by playing into the shared traits between my dead companion and you. You’re doing terrible. Maybe your own feelings got in the way? Is attraction also a weakness then?” Lucien’s fist clenches as you yet again air his dirty laundry. This habit has to stop, for his sake.

“Very well then, since me charming my way into your arms has been going so smoothly, let’s get this over with and go our separate ways that we for once and all can confirm your fragment is never coming back and I can get you out of my head.”

“If you think that’s going to solve all your problems then I fully consent but I highly doubt that will fix anything since your own interests in me won’t just go away by sleeping with me. That’s not how these things work.” No use in beating around the bush and while he’d rather not admit it Lucien considered the fact that just getting rid of the jitters won’t get rid of his feelings towards you. Damn you. This would have been so much easier if you would just prove him right even if he wasn’t.

“Then what do you suggest? We kiss and make up and go our separate ways?” Lucien huffs and you roll your eyes. Anything to deflect from being faced with his feelings and dismiss yours. Can he just accept you’re interested in him and not in the shadow of Mollymauk that’s left in him?

“You want a kiss? Fine. A kiss you’ll get.” You’re the one getting exasperated with his quick dismissal so you put your hand on the side of his neck. Give him a chance to pull away or stop you before you put your lips to his. The kiss deepens into a snog and you find yourself hoping Fjord hasn’t been keeping an eye on you or he’d be in for a show without any context. You’ll have a lot of explaining to do later….

Enough’s enough and you break the kiss paying close attention to Lucien who’s processing whatever’s running through his head. You just hope he’ll be able to put his own stubbornness aside, get over himself and admit to his feelings and yours because last you checked denial is much more of a problem than vulnerability ever will be.

“You need to start accepting people don’t automatically work the way you think they work. You don’t have to like the fact I actually like you nor do you have to like me in return but you cannot dismiss my feelings and opinions just because they don’t suit you.” You pat his cheek and while he’d consider it a belittling gesture, it’s fair game at this point. Maybe the game’s still being played after all and he was never in control of the game to begin with. That’s a bit of a damper in the grand scheme of it all.

It leaves Lucien to think. Since he’s already way over his head and too far into this that there’s no way back, maybe he’ll take his chances. No major changes. The goals remain the same but for now maybe he can enjoy a little company every so often if you’ll allow it… Maybe he can drop the cold exterior, get rid of the ‘divine purpose’ attitude and just let himself be for however long it lasts. At the end of they day he has little to lose and much more to gain.

“Fine. I recognise your interests in me as more than for what silvers of that fragment remain.” Lucien does not like admitting defeat and the expression on his face brings you so much satisfaction. Yes you might have feelings for the man but that doesn’t mean you can’t find joy in these kinds of interactions even if they are rooted in frustrations.

“And…” You push for him to continue. You can see him grit his teeth but he continues at your behest.

“And, accept them along my own. No matter how much I hate to admit it, I apologise for excusing my own behaviour and motives as means solely to manipulate you.” Lucien glares at you seeing your own satisfaction.

“Good boy.” You pat his cheek.

“Now since you’ve gotten all of this out of me you better share that blanket of yours because you’re not the only one freezing out here.”

“So the cold does bother him after all.” You grin and scoot over to wrap the blanket around the both of you. A bit of the rigidness remains, not ready to drop the cold and distant attitude just yet, if ever entirely, you know the ice is melting, even if just a little. More than you expected. More than you could have asked for. Now how the hell are you going to explain this to the others….

[graffitibible]

You're on watch while the sun slips ever lower, cresting the horizon and igniting it in a watercolor spray of brilliant orange and gold. It's difficult to look at. You're wearing your shades to blunt the severity of the sun's dying rays but your eyes still pulse with pain through your closed lids.

The crunch of approaching footsteps is the only warning you get before your sibling crouches beside you. Like the sun, they too are difficult to look at. Their silhouette, limned in bronze, is turned partially away from you so that you survey them in profile.

"Kobra," says Poison, the word heavy, and then they stop.

Say nothing. If they want to make the untold horrors of your past more real by speaking them into being, you're not about to make it easy for them.

"Do I gotta worry about...about whatever the fuck was goin' on back there?" Credit where it's due: they're abnormally careful about it.

Pause. Look back to the setting sun, because somehow being bilaterally knifed with photons is orders of magnitude less painful than holding your sibling's gaze just now.

"Why were you even in there?" Don't answer their question. Answer it with another question first. Expect Poison to bristle, but they don't.

"Room weren't empty when I found it," says Poison tiredly. "It was him, and some poor bastard he'd just ghosted. Dunno who. Christ, this killjoy - some sunshine in a tiger mask. They'd been torn the fuck apart, Kobra."

Something about this has gotten under their skin. Perhaps the strangeness of it. Scarecrows are a lot of things, but on the whole they tend to work in the way they've been taught. They're dedicated and efficient and for Korse to have devoted that level of effort to an unnecessarily brutal execution of one killjoy in particular, it...says something. He's not fighting the way scarecrows usually fight. It might have been a personal kill but more you're not sure if it's ego or paranoia that leads you to believe that it could be something else. Him trying to send a message to your crew or perhaps to you specifically. Already he's operating outside the parameters of how scarecrows operate and the thought quietly unravels a bright nodule of terror in your chest.

"So do I?" says Poison, breaching your train of thought. Look askance back at them. They've allowed fraction of weariness to bleed into their posture, perhaps without realizing it. Relaxing, ever fractionally, around their little brother. "Do I gotta worry about this, Kobra?"

Debate the merits of how you want to answer. Because Korse did not set himself on your rearviews until you took the Girl from Better Living's doorstep so, in theory, the easiest and quickest way to shake him would be to pass her off to another crew. To do what Dr. Death originally thought might work, and drop her at Gravel Gertie's orphanage. You've been to Gertie's and you know the defenses of that place and Korse would blow through it easily, rip it up like tangled weeds and set the whole mess on fire. His dracs would slaughter every living soul inside for the simple crime of being there.

You know already that you would not be able to live with the needless and wholly avoidable massacre of defenseless children on your conscience, even if there is a part of you, a part you cannot entirely ignore, that wants to tell Poison yes. Yes. There is something to worry about. There is something digging its way into the grave of your past and it will stop at nothing to get its teeth in you. And they'll understand, won't they, that this means that you won't be able to live with Korse in your shadow and the most efficient way to get rid of him would be to make the Girl someone else's problem. To make Korse someone else's monster.

A part of you wants, badly, to say it. It's the same part of you that, however small, however slight, lives with flicker of something almost like envy germinating in the beds of its teeth because Party Poison loves so loudly and so freely and you have always been their little brother but now they have someone more helpless and more deserving that requires their care. A part of you wants to say yes because you've never had to share their attention like this before, because the Girl is special and important and there is something in not wanting to know where Poison's sense of duty toward her ends and where their role as your big sibling begins.

You're afraid you know the answer to that, if you were to ask. You're afraid that if you were to challenge the resonance of those intersecting points, Poison would answer promptly and without hesitation.

But you're not Korse, are you. You're no scarecrow. You're not so cruel as to force that kind of choice upon someone.

"No," you tell Poison. "You don't gotta worry about any of it."

Poison relaxes. Visibly. Their shoulders slump a little and they breathe out and the fact that they let their relief permeate the space between you speaks to how badly the question had been weighing on them. How badly they, too, must not have wanted to have to make a decision between which they would carry to their grave: the Girl or their little brother.

Swallow back a twinge of guilt.

"You're gonna be okay, Kobra." It's the closest they get to asking you if you will be. Their hand settles briefly on your shoulder, transmits a dose of furious contact adrenaline by the pure weight of it. Their grip tightens, impossibly strong and assured - and then it's gone, leaving a warm ghost of pressure behind. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You answer immediately, because to hesitate would be to suggest that they're projecting something wishful onto you. And Poison...they're like you, like all killjoys. They don't do wishes. "Yeah. I'm gonna be okay."

Manage a smile, though it feels like it's cracked through, crooked and sore.

Poison ruffles your hair with one hand, grins at you. Twitch a vague echo of that smile back at them, hold it in place until they turn away and head back to the Trans Am.

Hold yourself together, even now that you're alone.

It's your last, best weapon: this shield against that which you refuse to acknowledge.

[pathofcomet]

look at what you taught me

fandom: bridgerton series

pairing: colin/penelope

summary: Colin and Penelope have never been awkward with one another. Except for this one time.  (AO3) (book spoiler ahead)

In the beginning, when he travels, Colin can think of nothing else but the present moment: a ship under his feet, the lull of a carriage, the wide expanse of the world all around him. Whatever destination is coming next, if he is certain enough – if not, he’ll just make it up as he goes. The furious scribbling of his quill against paper, as he races to put down in words all his eyes take not but a second to admire. It feels like everything he never knew he wanted to do so desperately. It feels right.

Then, it becomes more difficult to return home, the more he travels. But soon enough, the travel starts to wear him down. He begins to look forward to when he’ll return home: despite his own mother’s incessant remarks, despite the brotherly arguments, despite having to see another sister married off. Even the most loving mamas trying to marry off their daughters to him seem somewhat adorable, if he is gone long enough. But the need to travel comes back, like an itch that won’t go away unless he scratches it away. He makes promises to his sisters – so that he can stay as much as possible, but he goes insane with anything more than a couple of months. He likes to believe that by now his family simply made peace with his many eccentricities, and simply paid the cook more when he was around.

He treasures the pockets of familiarity he gets when in London as much as the breathes of fresh air he gets when he’s away. He imagines he drives his mother wild, with all his coming and going across the continent. He knows what Lady Whistledown writes about him as well, and he’d strangle the woman himself, for alerting everyone of his return so punctually. Ambitious mamas are hard to fend off when you’re a young man, and it only gets worse the older he becomes, because the expectation of marriage dawns ever closer.

***

“You must agree, Colin,” his mother says, and at the mention of his name, he straightens in his chair, because it’s a terrible thing to be singled out in a conversation by Violet. “Penelope is quite an agreeable young lady.”

Colin agrees, both because he truly believes so, and because while his mother doesn’t need his confirmation, she’s kinder when she has it. Benedict, from the other side of the room, leans closer in his chair, so he can hear better whatever commentary their dear mother is about to impart with them.

“I dare say she’d make quite a suitable bride for you, really.”

All hell breaks loose. Benedict drops his foot to the floor with a loud thud, while Colin drops his sandwich, eliciting a swear for which he’s reprimanded by three of his sisters. And then.

“Mother!” Eloise shrieks, quite offended – which Colin finds surprising, considering that the two of them are best friends. “That is entirely too daring!”

Colin agrees, but he is too busy desperately trying to cough away the piece of sandwich stuck in his throat. Eloise, though still quite shocked, pushes her cup of tea in his hands, just to get him to make less noise. He downs it in one go, grateful to not have died of this particular cause. His heart, quite in override still, might provoke a heart attack soon enough if his mother does not change the subject.

“I believe you misremember your ABCs, dear mother,” he jests, because he does not want to take the idea seriously. “There’s one son for whom you haven’t found a bride quite yet.”

Benedict shifts in his seat, suddenly finding his newspaper way more interesting. But this time around, Violet doesn’t rise to the so delicious bait of teasing her second, not when her brain is so set on match-making her third.

“I don’t see why not. Isn’t she a friend to all of us?”

She stops, waits for a nod from each one of her children currently engaged in eaves-dropping on the topic.

“She’s polite, witty,” she continues listing reason after reason, all to which Colin is entirely familiar and now that he thinks about, has noticed himself, several times over, in Penelope. “And quite darling.”

He imagines darling is what girls who aren’t called beautiful get stuck with by kind mothers. He never actually stopped to even consider Penelope in any of these ways: she’s always been there, ever since he was in short pants – and that’s almost already half their lives. A fixed presence by the side of his younger sister, and a favourite of his mother, despite all the awkward wallflower tendencies in Penelope. But he doesn’t recall ever trying to pick apart her character, find her individual traits, even consider her as a… woman.

Colin is suddenly shamed by his wilful, manly indifference. Violet arches her eyebrow at him, clearly still expecting an answer.

“Mother,” he adds with a sigh. “I can promise you most certainly that I am not marrying any time soon.”

“One never knows,” she murmurs, though she allows him his momentary peace, and returns to her embroidery.

***

Only that his mother doesn’t stop with her comments, and they seem to grow in number each time she meets Penelope, which unfortunate for him, is often enough. The next morning, as she returns from shopping, she comments on how nice she looked in a dress of her own picking, and not her mother’s own distasteful choices. Each time any married sibling sends a letter, or comes visit, her efforts in getting Colin to marry are reinforced. She jabs at him with comments: morning, afternoon and evening.

And suddenly, Colin can find that there’s nothing else much that he can think about, but Penelope, and how exactly this insane idea came to live in his mother’s mind. So he starts paying attention.

He supposes parties would be generally more enjoyable if he didn’t have to attend them with his family, as much as he loves them. He can physically feel Violet’s eyes drawing across the room, and then settling, decisively, on his back, a list of eligible ladies for marriage already compiled in her mind, alongside one for dancing partners. Colin can already guess what her mother is about to tell him.

And he is right. She pokes at his elbow with her fan, nodding to the edge of the ballroom, where Penelope Featheringston stands, card empty and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. Well, at least they do have that in common.

“Colin, darling,” and really, that’s all that Mrs. Bridgerton has to say to any of her children for them to do her bidding.

He makes his way across the room, trying his best to avoid getting roped into introductions by mothers or old friends alike. The faster he’s getting this over with, the faster he can return to the appetizers, and to a reconnaissance of the room of his own.

“Pen,” he says, and she startles, turning around to him with the widest of eyes, and the shyest of smiles. Huh, maybe she does look quite darling.

“Colin!” she exclaims, smoothing down a hand over her dress, and while it’s a gesture driven by nerves, it looks quite adorable.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance?”

He extends out his arm, which she takes – an answer without needing one. And it’s quite a shame, to all the other men in the room, because Penelope is a wonderful dancer, and a most attentive conversationalist during them. She asks him of his most recent travels, destination known through the letters he sent to Eloise, most likely. He’s received his fair share of foot stepping and the occasional elbow in his side, but never with Penelope.

She animates with each step, blushing at his hand around her back, smiling at a spin. He never considered how soft her body feels under his fingers, underneath the thin material of her dress, but now he is acutely aware of her warmth seeping through. He asks of the books she’s been reading, which he knows are plenty.

And at the end of the dance, he finds that maybe dancing with Penelope Featherington is not such a tedious task, after all. And at the end of the night, he’s quite certain she’s been his best partner.

***

Art exhibitions are not really Colin’s thing, really. His interest lays in a world painted in words, not in colours. But considering the fact that one of Benedict’s pieces is to be exposed to the world for the first time, of course his entire family must be present. He is proud of his brother, for having found a path in life, having chased it so full of determination.

Colin’s good at chasing as well. He’s just been proven, more and more lately, that he chases only things that cannot last, which displeases him greatly. It doesn’t mean he is not entirely supportive of his older brother. What other reason he’d have to be present here, at all?

“Penelope!” Eloise shouts, gathering the attention of her friend.

Penelope spins around, red curls jumping with the movement, and she blushes. Colin is pretty sure she’s done this every single time he’s seen her, though maybe he now begins to understand why. She nods her head in their direction, all Bridgertons replying in kind. Eloise lets go of his arm, rushing instead by her best friend’s side, hands entangled in a most obvious display of friendship and affection.

Colin knows Penelope’s family – and so he knows there’s no such camaraderie between her and her sisters, as it can be so easily observed between himself and his own siblings. He’s glad these two have each other then: a friend is one’s most fearful champion.

He walks by his mother’s side, going through the gallery, the two girls just a few feet ahead. Eloise is the taller one, yet both their heads are bent together as they discuss, such an air of ease and comfort about them. His sister says something, and suddenly Penelope turns a bit more to the side, laughing: a sparkle of mischief in her eyes and the loveliest pull at her mouth. Now, Colin finds himself quite taken with her mouth, staring because he finds it impossible not to. The soft pink of her lips, as she’s worried at them trying to come up with a comment about this and that painting. The white of her teeth, as she smiles. Her tongue, wetting her lips, from time to time, as the rooms grow hotter, with all the people passing around.

He’s lucky that the art pieces all around are distracting enough that Penelope herself doesn’t notice. His mother does, though.

“Quite darling, no?”

And she looks at the exact same person that he is, and most certainly not at the painting of a fruit basket in front of them.

“Mother,” he warns, a slight squeeze around her arm.

“Oh,” she sighs. “You can’t blame me for caring enough to try.”

Maybe not. But he can blame her for opening his eyes to something that he, like everyone else – he begins to realize - didn’t really know was right there.

***

So Colin Bridgerton, like a true hero of his days, leaves for Wales. And like the caring gentleman that he also is, he uses one of his friends as his excuse. It helps – it’s quite a useful distraction, for a while, walking over the hills, staring out at the sea, spending evenings eating hearty meals with someone that knows him well enough, but not too much. And he writes in his journal, of his quiet passing days.

By contrast, the nights are not so quiet. While he tries so hard to forget the society back in London, at night there are no distractions: and even so, while asleep, he cannot really control his unconscious mind.

So Colin dreams: at first, the most innocent of shadows, people that he can vaguely make out. Then the visions get clearer, and longer, and more tormenting. It starts with Penelope’s smile, and that mouth of hers, which in a dream he can admit to wanting to desperately kiss. Which, in a dream, he has leave to do. He knows, upon waking, that whatever taste lingers on his tongue from his haze, it certainly has nothing on the reality, and hates himself all the more for it. Then her body, close to his, the press of her bosom hard against his chest, the roundness of her bottom in his palms. The next morning, he is in need of a change of bedsheets, like he is nothing but a horny teenager.

He is sure his mother must have cursed him. The dreams continue, sweet haunting that only makes the guilt rise in his throat. She’s his sister’s best friend, for heaven’s sake, and here he is, conjuring her up in his dreams with no respite! It’s like his body has decided to take an entirely different path from his mind.

Colin is miserable on a travel, for the first time in way too long.

***

Maybe that’s his excuse. He lacks sleep, and for him, the most pressing issue is, obviously, still the one of his marriage. Violet Bridgerton is popular for many things between her children, but her cutting words and sharp mind are not necessarily one of those, especially if used against one of them. Colin has found himself at the receiving end of exactly that for weeks and months now, so he is apprehensive when he is summoned back to London.

But if his mother has need of him, then he must make haste. Of course, the real reason is simply the news of Daphne’s new pregnancy, which is incredibly happy. Colin loves to be an uncle way better than he likes being a younger brother.

Especially since right now, Anthony and Benedict have taken the liberty to pick up with the teasing where their mother stopped.

“You left in the middle of the season,” Benedict remarks, and Anthony clasps his back in a way that only eldest brothers can do, when they require an immediate answer.

“Oh, very well,” and Colin actually scowls. “I needed to get away. Mother has been incessant with this bloody marriage thing.”

And because they’re his brothers, of course they joke and jest more, at his own expense. Everyone in their house knows that his mother has her eyes set on Penelope, and everyone in their house is already tired of her insinuations, Colin most of all. That doesn’t mean that Anthony, or Benedict are going to pass up the opportunity to rile him up on the subject. It’s been a while, after all, since they’ve had reason to laugh at him in particular.

It’s the damn lack of sleep, and all of these comments, which are entirely unwarranted and so overwhelming, despite his protests, that make him throw all decorum out the window.

“I am not going to marry soon, and I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington!”

“Oh!”

The softest sound, really – feminine and delicate and belonging to the single person that he didn’t want to see right this moment. With much slowness, burning red with shame, Colin turns around to look at Penelope Featherington. And he knows: by the expression on her face, the haggard breathing with the desperate rise and fall of her chest, and her eyes, that he just broke her heart.

What he says right there on the spot, he cannot truly recall. A fumbling of stupid, empty nothings, apology too small, too unfulfilling, because Penelope draws herself up and protects the little bit of her dignity left.

And she leaves, so fast that he doesn’t have the time to do what he wants: follow her to clear up things.

Benedict punches him in the arm, quite terribly hard. It still doesn’t feel as bad as the gut-wrenching guilt building up inside himself, or the self-loathe that he so much deserves. Because just as he was beginning to make up his mind regarding how dear, truly, she has grown to be for him, he has done the worst thing a person who cares about another can do: hurt her.

***

He shows up at the doorsteps of her house the following day, surprised to find Penelope alone in the drawing room.

“As you might suspect, Mr. Bridgerton,” she says, when he inquires after her mother and sisters. “Many men before you have made the same declaration, though maybe in more private settings. I am afraid any hope of marriage left in this household falls upon my sisters.”

It is the fact that she doesn’t use his name that stings the worst, and makes him understand exactly how much harm he’s done with his extremely horrifying comment.

“Penelope, I am so entirely sorry for the way I behaved yesterday. You must believe me when I say I did not mean to offend you in any way.”

“Must I?”

He stops, opens his mouth: no words come out. She looks the picture perfect of peace, and maybe this is what should worry him the most. It is his first time seeing her as more than a blushing young woman, and suddenly maybe he realizes why she is Eloise’s best friend: she’s made of tougher stuff than what he’s been led to believe so far.

“What I said, the way I’ve said it. I’ve hurt you… It’s entirely intolerable and I apologize for the situation you’ve been put in because of me being an ass.”

Situation that she handled entirely fine, given the fact that he so singled her out in a market of numerous others undesirable young ladies. She sighs at his curse, something that sounds like Colin, that has the tiniest of fondness in the tone. Something in his chest tightens with fondness of its own, for this woman in front of him, who has been nothing but a most beloved friend, to his entire family – and to him, as well.

“I…” she stops, taking in a deep breath, her hands shaking. “I already told you, no feelings were hurt. You’ve made no remark that wasn’t already obvious to everybody in the ton,” she says, and she waves in the air the latest number of Lady Whistledown.

Of course, even when he misses it, his sisters and his dear mama are quick to fill him up on the happenings of the season. In today’s fresh paper, Whistledown has written down that were the two of them ever to get married, she’d have to give up writing altogether – such an unfitting match never having been seen before.

“You can’t possibly believe those writings,” he says, suddenly offended at the paper, though he’s not quite certain on whose behalf anymore.

“I didn’t, until –”

Until he has reinforced them all the more, with his declaration. Colin suddenly feels himself flush from head to toes, at being so openly chastised. His brother Benedict has already told him, that he has cruelly overstepped most demands of polite society when he lost his temper in that way, in such a public place.

“I really do apologize, Penelope.”

He hadn’t realize how much he enjoys saying her name until now, when he so desperately wants her, needs her to say his own. A sign that things between them can be mended, move from the terrible awkwardness between them.

“Pity doesn’t feel that nice to those who already know how pitiful they are, Colin.” His gaze snaps up at her, and finds her already smiling at him – quite charming, even if so utterly self-depreciating. “Though you are forgiven.”

He bows at her in thanks, lower than he’s gone in months, if not years, just to show how entirely grateful he is. Of course, Colin is yet too young, rich, handsome and charismatic to know the meaning of her words, and too stupid of a man to try and understand where she is coming from.

But he will, in due time.

For now, maybe his favourite sight to see during his travels becomes the shores of England, when returning home. Because home has just started to mean just a tiny bit more.

[bookofmirth]

I haven't read ACOSF yet, and tbh I'm rather rusty with the characters but it was really interesting to read your opinion on Elain! I feel there's a lot of complexity to her. And how she presents herself as well because as you said we literally have no chapters from hers or Lucien's POV and I think that's the important point to note because right now we're all just guessing and assuming her to be like Feyre, but she's not. People deal/show their traumas in different way and l think people expect Elain to deal with it as Feyre did. But, Feyres trauma and Elains are very different!

I don't really know what I'm saying. But I read your answer and it made me go 'oh... Huh!' in a good way, it sparked my curiosity! So thank you! But I think Elain perhaps is the most complex person with their trauma. I know people say 'oh Nesta is so different' but (I specialised in drama therapy so I love psycho analysis) and what Nesta did is self destructive to prevent relationships to avoid hurt or more emotions that she doesn't want to acknowledge (in my opinion!)

Elain just shuts down. She doesn't drink, she doesn't screw, she just remains in her garden which in itself says a lot! That's a very grounding way to handle trauma and not a lot of people are aware of that side!

So yeah I don't know what I'm saying but I think it's a really interesting discussion!

I have so many thoughts about Elain! This took me a few days to get to because i knew I had a crapton of thoughts. So this is basically me using this ask to explain the way I see Elain post-acosf!

There are three important scenes in acosf off the top of my head: when Elain talks with Nesta and they fight, and then with Nesta and Feyre and she gets mad and leaves, and then Feyre and Rhys talk about her in their chapter. We’re getting a lot more information about her, and for me, it wasn’t so much about who she is, but why we don’t know who she is.

So far, what we’ve had is Feyre’s and Nesta’s POV. Even when Feyre and Lucien tried to help her in acowar, they were unable. So we’ve never had anything about Elain from someone who didn’t grow up with her and experience the same trauma (such as becoming destitute, their mother’s death, their father being beaten, the Cauldron, etc.)

The sisters do handle it very, very differently. And I think that at this point the fandom consensus is that Elain runs away from her problems, but I actually disagree, and partly because of what you mentioned - that she isn’t using those self-harming, destructive coping mechanisms. Nesta was avoiding her problems, hardcore. It’s absolutely possible that Elain avoids things, but I don’t think that she just runs from all of her problems because:

Elain grieves her father. Openly. She tries to accept the fact that it wasn’t her fault and that she couldn’t do anything about it. (See: her going to his grave in acofas, her first talk with Nesta in acosf.) Elain does not run from her grief, she doesn’t pretend it doesn’t exist, and she doesn’t hide it from others. As one of the most defining events we’ve seen her go through in the series, that’s a pretty big deal.

Elain does not cling to unhealthy coping mechanisms. There could be ways that she does this that we are unaware of. She does seem like the type who would be really, really good at making people think she’s okay, all while she’s silently imploding. But we don’t know that yet?

Elain does not isolate herself. 

However, Elain definitely needs to deal with some stuff! She definitely needs to deal with Lucien, and she needs to have an actual talk with Nesta because I don’t remember a single satisfying resolution between those two in acosf. Not like Nesta had with Feyre. 

I have this idea that is purely based on Elain’s line in acosf:

“I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow, all you think of is what my trauma did to you.” (pg. 233)

And then Feyre tells Nesta that yes, Elain was right. 

This is so so so sossosososos important. I cannot emphasize it enough. Elain is used to putting on a fake, smiling face because she doesn’t want the weight of her sisters’ concern. She has been pretending to cope for so long - and tbf, she seems to have been doing better than Nesta - that people not only forget that she has suffered, but she doesn’t feel like she can even express that suffering.

Emotional labor often means negating one’s own feelings in order to acknowledge or tend to someone else’s. And that is Elain’s major role, in the series. Feyre has been caring for everyone’s physical wellbeing (hunting), while Elain’s role has been to care for everyone’s emotional wellbeing. But, like with most emotional labor, it has gone unnoticed.

I’ve made posts about emotional labor in the past (four years ago!!!!) but I’m gonna spare you the link because a lot of it was about a ship that’s no longer a ship, so here is the relevant content:

What I am talking about is the regulation of emotion - any time that you give comfort, are especially attentive to someone’s needs, stop thinking about how you feel in order to focus on how someone else feels, try to cheer someone up, make sure that they are taking care of themselves, try to allay their insecurities, etc. Basically, helping them with any sort of emotional distress.

You know those posts you’ve seen, about women protecting men’s egos constantly? Or about making time for self-care? Or about recognizing toxic relationships? That tell you “if X is being demanded of you in a relationship, get out”? Those are ALL about emotional labor, broadly speaking. They are warning you not to do more than you can handle, more than you need to do, because it can be harmful to you.

If you have ever been expected to make a person or people feel better any time you are around each other (including when they are angry, upset, anxious, ill, frustrated, insecure, etc.), you have performed emotional labor. Pretty much everyone has done this at some point, unless you are a completely insensitive jerk.

Notice, though, that I said expected to and any time you are around them – this is where the problem comes in for YOU. This is not about just being there for a friend.

Making loved ones feel better is fantastic. Seeing people be polite and kind to one another makes my heart shine. That is not a problem in and of itself. That can be seen as emotional labor, but there are no requirements on you in those circumstances. This is something you are doing of your own free will.

The problem, again, is when this is expected, constantly, over time. Now, in my experience, the expectation is not necessarily coming from the other person. One of the problems with this type of labor is that not only do others expect women to perform these tasks, but women expect it of themselves.

It’s super easy to see this – who is expected to take care of a child when they fall? Who is expected to baby-sit? Who did you want when you were sick as a child, mom or dad? Who is expected to be sensitive and pay attention to others’ emotions?

For more info on this idea specifically, read Of Woman Born by Adrienne Rich. As a woman, I realized how much work I had been performing and how much it was harming me and I just… got real upset. She comes at this mostly from what a woman’s role is expected to be within the family, and might actually be a bit outdated in that respect because I feel like family structures and dynamics are shifting (that is a totally un-academic evaluation of the situation, don’t quote me on that), but still, it’s really informative.

While I was doing some research for this post I came across a peer-reviewed article about nursing and basically, high amounts of emotional labor led to anxiety and burn-out in those performing it. It literally will cost your mental health – not to mention your time, energy, attention, and it often requires you to ignore your own needs (this last part came from me, not the article). On the other hand, high levels of emotional intelligence (being able to recognize your own and others’ emotional states) meant less emotional labor (and therefore less anxiety & burn-out). One of the most important things to realize is that while you are taking care of someone else’s emotional needs, your own are frequently unmet. That is why it’s important to recognize this in yourself, not just in these characters.

So where does Elain fit in? Elain is the #1 emotional labor provider of the family, and she is about to freaking SNAP. I know, because once I realized how my trauma was hidden in order to spare someone else its consequences, I fucking SNAPPEd. I’ll also spare you the personal details, but Elain hasn’t been “okay���. She hasn’t been “boring”, or “nice”, or “chosen” Feyre over Nesta. She has literally been unable to express herself because (and I am NOT blaming Nesta or Feyre or her father one bit) her family’s emotional state has been so fragile, there hasn’t been room for Elain to feel or express her emotions in years. 

In the feysand short, Rhys says:

I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all.

And that completely tracks. Everyone has gotten used to Elain being not just “nice”, but being the emotionally predictable one. The one they know they can go to for a smile. The one they can count on for never, ever making them realize that she has been through Some Shit Too. And being that person is exhausting.

When Feyre thinks about Elain not using Lucien’s gloves, 1) she still has them, otherwise she couldn’t think about Elain not using them, and 2) I like to see the gloves as something that she will come to use, once she realizes that she can feel and express those emotions without it causing a breakdown in the family. Right now, she just wants to feel. And she can’t do that emotionally, so she’s doing it physically. Once she heals and finds a better balance, she won’t need to resort to physical pain. (Which, lowkey has me thinking some other thoughts, but.... maybe later.) But anyway, once Elain does go through her very own special journey, I fully expect her to welcome those gloves. She won’t need physical pain to feel anymore.

Not to mention my completely unacademic and non-professional opinion that people will judge a nice women harshly for being rude once, but accept a woman with a history of rudeness for just “being that way”. It’s another way that Elain may feel trapped in her “nice girl” persona. I think she started out that way - kindness and light and generosity is 100% in Elain’s character in the first place. It’s not as if she went into the Court of Nightmares and suddenly Cassian thought, “wait, she fits right in to this shithole of depravity”. No, he still thought the literal opposite. It’s just that once people get used to you doing all their emotional labor, they will continue to take advantage of it, even if they don’t realize its cost.

[crystaljins]

River lead me home | 09 FINAL

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis:  Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: Ahhh. We’re finally here. At the ending. 

I feel like so much happened since I started writing this fic. I’ve been through so many ups and downs, and so have my characters. And you guys are probably the same; I wonder what adventures you guys went on as I posted this? I hope they were fun ones. 

Anyway, thank you for sticking around for this long journey home. I hope you enjoy the final chapter, and I hope you enjoyed following these guys on their adventure. 

Till next time, my loves.

Tags: @blue1928​ @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

It’s a long journey home. The three of you stay with the mice long enough to see the first of the recovered victims poke their little noses out of their burrows. The mayor, a harried, round little mouse with hay coloured fur and absurdly long whiskers, cannot express his gratitude deeply enough, other than to procure the three of you a comfortable stay in a nearby inn. 

The journey back is only slightly less fraught with danger. The Saishtas think the two of you are dead, and not long after you part ways with the mice, new begins to circulate in the local areas that the might, evil Saishta queen has died and that her kingdom has fallen into disarray. You come across one or two of the insidious lizardpeoples after that but none of them approach or acknowledge you. Why bother, when they failed to save their queen?

After hearing that news, it’s more of a relaxed journey. You all head on from town to town, purchasing supplies and another bed roll for Jungkook. Jin is strangely eager to spend what little currency you have on the most comfortable bedroll he can find, and when Jungkook suggests he just continues to share in the interest of saving funds, Jin nearly has an aneurysm. 

Jin’s behaviour is probably the strangest part of the journey. He’s not cold or standoffish like he normally is when having a crisis, but he’s definitely gentler. More reserved but also warmer. It’s not unwelcome. In fact, you can’t help but wonder. If the war had never come, would this be the life you had with Jin? Endless adventures amongst the thrilling dangers of your home realm? 

You bring the thought up to Jin and Jungkook one night, while the three of you huddle together over a fire, snacking on some of the dried meats you’d purchased from the last town. 

Jin looks surprised at the thought. 

“I’ve always thought it would be you and Taehyung going on the big adventures.” He points out. “The two of you were never able to hold still, even for a moment.” His smile is warm and fond as he recalls your childhood. 

“You’d have been dragged along.” Jungkook counters through a particularly chewy mouthful. “You’d probably be married to (Y/N) and forced to follow her around keep her out of trouble.”

Oddly, you expect Jin to flush, or protest, or attempt to strangle Jungkook. You certainly feel a bit flushed at the thought. But Jin is unfazed- he merely offers a secretive smile and tilts his head curiously at you. You couldn’t decipher the look if you tried, but it has your throat feeling tight. 

You change the conversation topic after that, but it’s not the only way that Jin has changed. A few days later, the three of you are attempting to cross a little slippery creek when you lose your footing. 

You stumble over a few rocks and land on your hands and knees. Even in the deepest part of the creek it only comes up to your mid-thighs when you are on all fours. 

Jin skids to a stop beside you, crouching before you in the water. He doesn’t seem to care about the way his clothes become soaked. 

“Are you hurt?” He demands. You take stock of your injuries- a scraped knee, a bruised shin, the palms of your hands rubbed raw. Nothing that won’t be gone in an hour or two. 

“I’m fine.” You reassure him. 

He nods awkwardly for a moment and then offers “I could kiss it better?”

It takes you a few blinks to comprehend his words, and even then, it makes you re-evaluate the severity of your injuries. 

“What?” You demand, shocked. He shrugs and looks away. 

“Like when we were kids. I could kiss it better. You used to always refuse to stop crying until I kissed you. We could try that again.” He offers nonchalantly. You must have hit your head. It’s the only explanation. You can only stare, your mouth dropped into an “o”. 

“I guess that’s a no.” Jin finally says, oddly sulky in the way he says it. “Just thought I’d offer.”

You wish you could say that it’s the strangest of his behaviour, but it’s not. The rest of the journey goes like that- if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jin was flirting. Albeit, in a weirdly awkward, tentative way. Even Jungkook notices it. 

“Do you think he’s finally gone mad? Maybe the extreme social media detox has made all his brain cells shrivel up and die.” Jungkook whispers conspiratorially one night while the two of you wonder a small village that is throwing a little festival. Colourful lanterns line the streets and the various creatures that inhabit the village are dressed in bright colours. Jin had decided to stay back at the inn but the two of you had wanted to explore. 

“It’s the only logical explanation.” You concede, as much as it physically pains you to agree with Jungkook in anything. 

“All I have to say is, if this is how he flirts I have no idea how he gets so many dates.” Jungkook laments, and your eyes widen. 

“Stop.” You laugh. “He’s not flirting. It’s Jin. He thinks of me like an unwanted houseplant.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” Jungkook asks suddenly. His gaze is probing, and the mood is oddly serious for what you thought was a joking conversation. 

“What?” You ask, caught off-guard. 

“What if he’s actually flirting? Hypothetically. What would you do?” He questions. 

You go silent, as you contemplate your answer. Honestly, you’re not stupid enough to entertain the thought of Jin liking you back. But something about Jungkook’s earnestness has you genuinely considering it. 

“I don’t know.” You finally admit. You sigh, suddenly feeling tired. 

“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks, tentative and almost gentle. He tilts his head curiously. “Do you like him?”

The question startles you. It feels like it’s been so long since you came to term with your feelings that you forgot not everyone else was aware of your revelation. Honestly, even to yourself it had filtered to the back of your mind. An unchanging fact, rarely acknowledged. The sky is blue. Jungkook is annoying. You are in love with Kim Seokjin. 

“I do.” You finally admit. You’re reaching the end of the street where most of the festivities are taking place- the crowd is thinning and more distance separates each lantern. 

“Then, if he were flirting... wouldn’t the answer be that you’d date him?” Jungkook asks. He’s pulling a face like he’s working out a rather complex maths problem. “Why don’t you know what you’d do?” 

The two of you settle at the end of the street. Roughly hewn chairs are scattered randomly across the little square. In the corner, a large, greyish being snoozes, and a small group of little humanoid trees laugh over something and chatter in a foreign language. 

“I feel like there’s too much to sort out first. Like... to date him I’d have to be better. I’d have to have a job. And I’d have to have apologised to my mother. I’d need to stop spongeing off the people around me. And maybe live out of home. Be a proper, human adult.” You list. “The me that I am now... I couldn’t date Jin. I’m not... I’m not...”

“Good enough?” Jungkook finishes the words gently. There’s a sad look in his eyes, and it surprises you. 

You nod. 

“Yeah.” You admit, and your voice is oddly choked. It’s weird- you had thought you were at peace with your feelings. You were meant to be happy with whatever scraps of affection Jin threw your way. But you’re not- there’s a deep, miserable ache in your chest that won’t go away. 

Jungkook uses his sleeves to dab at the tears you didn’t even know were slipping down your cheeks. 

“For what it’s worth,” Jungkook offers. “Jin doesn’t actually care about that stuff. The only reason he makes a big deal out of it is because he thinks you’ll be happy if all that stuff works out.” He tells you. “And hey. Someone once told me that the best things are the scariest to start- maybe this is one of those times?”

After that, you call it a night, and Jungkook doesn’t bring the topic up again. But you can’t forget his words. The closer to the portal the three of you draw, the more the ache in your chest grows; the closer you get to going back to normal life. What happens to you and Jin when you step back into the human realm? 

What if Jungkook’s words are true? Would you... would you have to return to normal? Could you have more? Is it stupid that a part of your stupid, traitorous heart longed for it to be true with each new step towards home?

There’s a surefire way to find out; if you ask him. But you can’t. The words die in your throat every time you even consider it. You remember how he freaked out when Jungkook suggested it earlier on the trip. He likely already knows your feelings despite your denial, and it is only your constant denial otherwise that allows the two of you to exist in this strange limbo. If you stopped denying them, he’d have to address those feelings and then what? It would be back to square one- the avoidance and awkwardness as you cling to the shambles of your friendship.

You can’t go back to that- you’ve fought so hard to fix what is between you, to salvage things. Would it be worth risking it, just in the hopes that you and Jin could be more?

The night before you reach the portal, all the nerves and worries you have build up to the point that you find yourself gazing up listlessly at the canopy overhead. The branches interlace and you can perk glimpses of the stars beyond. This is the last glimpse you will get of these stars. You have already decided you won’t come back here. It’s time to stop looking back and only look forward. 

Yet, despite your resolve, despite everything, sleep evades you. Tomorrow, real life awaits. An existential sort of dread has gripped you.

With a sigh, you sit up. To your right, Jungkook has curled into a tight ball as he peacefully rests. But to your surprise, Jin’s bedroll is empty. You’re surprised you didn’t hear him move. 

It doesn’t take long to locate him. Only a short distance away, where the vegetation is a bit lighter and a clear patch of sky shimmers overhead, Jin lounges peacefully. He gazes thoughtfully up at the sky overhead as the starlight gilds his face in breathtaking silver. 

Wordlessly, you step towards him. A twig snaps beneath your feet and Jin whirls around in surprise. When he spots you, he smiles and gentle pats the open space beside him. 

Awkwardly, you settle beside him, hugging your knees to your chest. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He questions, his eyes closed serenely. The soft sound of wind and distant sounds of wildlife filters through the night air. 

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice heavy with a sigh. He blinks open one eye to peer curiously at you. It’s the most relaxed and open you’ve seen him in a long time. “What about you? You couldn’t sleep either?” 

Jin shrugs. 

“I could have.” He informs you. “But I thought I’d enjoy my last night in this realm instead.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. Jin has made it clear throughout the trip that this journey has been anything but enjoyable. 

“Enjoy?” You say, only slightly incredulous. He nods and opens both eyes to stare up the sky. 

“I’m as shocked as you.” He concedes. “This place has only ever meant bad things to me. It’s why I could never understand your fixation with it.” 

You grimace.

“I kind of get it now, though.” He admits, before you can complain to him. “It’s a pretty beautiful place.” 

“What changed your mind?” You ask, your curiosity piqued. Jin shrugs. 

“You did.” He answers simply. 

“M-me?” You’re not sure why you stutter; perhaps it is the strange look to his eyes as he turns fully to face you. He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his cheek against them, watching you lazily. 

“Yup.” He says, as if it’s the easiest confession in the world. “When I used to think about this place, all I could think about was the night we fled. My dad didn’t even time to wash the blood off his hands. He grabbed me by the wrist and held on so tight I had bruises. I didn’t want to remember that. I didn’t want to remember the place that had caused us so much pain. And you... you were such a shell. I felt like one of my best friends had died in this realm and I was so angry at what it had taken from me.” His gaze is distant with recollection. “And then I was mad at you, because you couldn’t forget no matter what I did.” He gazes at you. “But now it’s finally given me something.”

You’re startled, by his heartfelt words. You’ve always known Jin hated this realm, hated the way the beings of this realm had driven you all out. But you didn’t know you had such a huge role in his opinion of it. “You.” He finishes. “So I guess I can’t really hate this place after all.”

You’re struck speechless in that moment, and your heart swells with an overwhelming feeling. You already know you love the man before you, but in that moment, you’re shocked at just how much. A feeling bubbles up at the base of your chest- your heart feels fit to burst. 

“What do you mean?” You ask- is this feeling hope? What does Jin mean, when he says the realm gave him you?

Jin merely shrugs. 

“I’ll let you speculate.” He tells you, shooting you a coy smile, an oddly cheeky look that he’s given to his friends before but never to you. But then his expression shifts into something more serious. “I think there are more pressing things to discuss first, though. Like why you’re sitting here with me instead of sleeping?”

The warm feeling from earlier instantly evaporates as you recall the reason for your melancholy. 

“I guess I’m just nervous.” You confess. “About going home. I’ve... I’ve really enjoyed this trip. And I’m excited to go home. But I’m just so...” you struggle to find the word. “So...”

“Nervous?” Jin suggests. He shuffles so he’s just a bit closer. His shoulder brushes yours- if you extended your neck, you could rest your head against his broad shoulders. A strange electricity buzzes through your body at the thought- it reminds you of your fight over the fungus a few days ago. The air had felt strangely charged then as well. 

“Yeah.” You admit, swallowing past a dry throat. “There’s a lot to do, back home.”

“Back home?” Jin echoes, and then his smile turns warm. His mouth carefully forms the word “home” and his eyes wrinkle into two joyous crescent moon shapes. “I guess there is.” He acknowledges. “But you’ve already made the first step. You’re calling the human realm home.”

That startles you. Obviously, it is your home. But you hadn’t realised how instinctive that had become until this moment; at some point the human realm had stopped being that uncomfortable alien place, and had become the place you’re meant to go back to. Home. Jin watches you process the words carefully before he speaks again. 

“You don’t have to be nervous.” He tells you softly. The tone to his voice is oddly vulnerable and delicate. Something delicate hovers between you like the flutter of a pixie’s wing. “You said you wanted to work things out together, right? So, you don’t have to be nervous because I’ll be there with you.”

He looks away and his expression is surprisingly shy. “I know you said I don’t have to be the guy with it all worked out, but I still want to try. It makes me happy. Being there for you. So even if you’re nervous... we’ll work it out together, right?”

It is that exact moment that you figure it out. Earlier, you had been uneasy at Jungkook’s line of questioning. You didn’t feel worthy of Jin’s love and affection, and that made you afraid. Because you couldn’t bear to lose him. You still can’t bear to lose him. But gazing into the warm eyes before you, you know you won’t ever lose him. The two of you have braved death together- you’ll make it through anything. 

You feel lighter then, and you offer Jin a smile. 

“Thank you.” You whisper. Jin smiles back. 

“Any time.” He whispers back to you in answer. 

Sleep comes easily after that, and so too does the end of your journey. All too soon you stand before the portal back home. 

The trip feels like it’s taken a thousand years and no time at all at the same time. By your calculation, the entire journey has taken almost a month, with all the detours and misadventures. That means almost six hours have passed in the human realm. Jin has almost definitely missed his dinner plans, and your mother is probably starting to wonder why you aren’t home yet. 

“What will you do, when you go back?” Jin asks. Jungkook has already stepped through and you’re surprised that Jin is making conversation now, of all times. 

“Apologise to my mother.” You say easily. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save my snapchat streaks and apologise to Joon.” Jin shares. He’s nervously twisting his fingers together. The energy he gives off is like an uneasy teenager about to do a huge public speech. It’s a big contrast from the person her was last night. Like he’s bracing himself for something. 

You thought you’d be bracing yourself too. On the other side is hard work and futile dreams and a bleary, dull city. 

But on the other side is your mother, your friends, your family. Your evil cat waits for you on the other side; the life your father dreamed of for you is on the other side. You had thought that so much in your life is wrong, and now that the portal is here, you realise that it’s not. It’s just life. Things go wrong and things go right. Like the path of a river, cutting through the vast, unknown wilderness. You had been thinking of it this whole time like you’d flip a switch and things would be easy. But that’s not what it’s going to be like on the other side of this portal, and it’s not really what you want things to be like. It’s an adventure of a different kind. 

And it’s an adventure that you want to share... with Jin. 

You remember what Jungkook had said- the best things in life are the scariest to start. And you’re scared now. No, you’re terrified. But if you’re this scared, then you know that this moment is going to be huge. Life-changing. You can’t keep the words in a moment longer. You don’t want to. You’ve spent too long running and fearing and hesitating and overthinking. But you’re confident, that the two of you will survive this even if he doesn’t feel the same way, and you’re ready to take that risk.

The river loves those who take the plunge.

“Jin,” you call, and you thought that if you ever did this that you’d be lost for words. But you’re not. Because you’re finally ready. Last night had solidified that for you. The words come easily. “You remember how you said that I look at you a certain way?”

You turn and face him, and he looks bewildered. 

“Like you’re my hero.” You recall. And then you steel yourself and meet his gaze. It’s the same eyes you’ve known all your life. The same eyes you want to look into for the remainder of your life. “It’s because you are my hero. No, actually, it’s more than that.” You assert, and he just stares, completely dumbstruck. “I look at you like that because I love you. Because I admire you and think you’re strong and brave and kind, and even if you’re not the guy who has it all together, I still feel the same way. And I lied when I said I just wanted you to be my friend. I thought it was enough, but it’s not- I want to be your partner. I want to be your best friend. I want to be your girlfriend.” You say. And then you summon all the exciting fluttering feels in your chest and let it pour into your smile. “I love you, Kim Seokjin.” 

Before you stands something you never thought you’d see. Kim Seokjin, the mastermind behind the Jant, is completely speechless. And then slowly, very slowly, he opens his mouth to give a response. 

“Are you dead?” Jungkook demands as the upper half of his body appears once more through the portal. “It’s been like 30 seconds in that realm which is approximately ten years in this realm if my maths is correct!”

You spring back from Jin. You’re startled at how far you have to step back- had you really been standing that close? 

“R-right.” You stutter. You feel like you’ve been caught cheating on a diet or something equally scandalous. “We’re coming.”

Jin just looks annoyed. 

“No we’re not. Give us a minute.” He snaps at Jungkook, placing a palm against Jungkook’s head and shoving him back through the portal none-too-gently. He then turns urgently back to you. “What did you just say?” He demands. His intensity has you cowering slightly- your bravado from earlier leaves you. 

“I said “we’re coming”?” You recall, attempting to divert the topic, but Jin steps closer. 

“No you didn’t. You said you love me. And that you want to be my girlfriend.” He accuses. 

“If you knew, why did you ask me?” You grumble. And then your expression softens. “But yes. I did say that. And it’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I know you could have any girl you want and I won’t be mad if you want someone else.” You reassure him quickly. He just stares, offering you no indication of whether he’d processed your words. It’s uncomfortable, but you suppose your words were going to be uncomfortable. You’re changing the very nature of your relationship by voicing them aloud. “But if you were willing... maybe you could give me a chance?” You trail away. 

Still, Jin just continues to look at you blankly. He looks like he’s a robot that just encountered a programming error. Hesitantly, you reach out to tap his shoulder, just to make sure he hasn’t died or suddenly been transformed into stone. 

A hand shoots up. It grabs your wrist, halting its movements. Jin’s eyes bug out of his head. 

“YOU’RE TELLING ME NOW?” He all but screeches. You flinch- you hadn’t anticipated a jant in response to your confession. “YOU HAD THE WHOLE TRIP TO SAY YOUR FEELINGS AND YOU SAY IT NOW? YOU COULDN’T HAVE WAITED ONE DAY?”

His nostrils flare as he releases your wrist so that he can point accusingly at you. 

“You had all your chances! You could have said it on the way to the forest spirit! Or when the Saishtas were chasing us! Or when we landed in the ravine! You’ve had literally the whole trip and you wait until right before I’m going to confess?” He spits out in that rapid-fire way that you’ve never seen another person be able to replicate. 

And then you process his words. 

“Wait-“ you say, hoping to abort the jant so that you have enough time to comprehend what he’s saying. 

It’s no use. 

“Seriously! I had a whole plan, (Y/N)! We were going to go to dinner and I was going to buy you flowers and I was going to ease you into it! But no! You just had to beat me to it, and for what? For what? So that you can make a half-assed confession right before we step into an alley next to a brothel?” He laments. 

“It’s not half-assed-“ you protest, because you’d poured your heart out to Jin. 

He steps in menacingly. 

“Take it back.” He demands. Your eyes widen. 

“What?” You cry, defensively. To your credit, you only cower a little which is an impressive feat for someone on the receiving end of a jant. 

“Your confession! Take it back!” He orders. 

“No!” You argue back. “I’m not going to do that.”

“You are!” Jin counters. “You’re going to take it back and we’re going to do it properly, over dinner, and you’re going to have washed hair and I’m going to-“

You don’t let him finish whatever stupid thoughts were filtering through his brain. If he wants a proper, romantic confession, then he’s going to get one! You hear a sharp intake of breath from him as your lips press to his. They’re slightly chapped after such a long period of rough travel, but the sensation is still pleasant. Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel like you’re about to burst. 

It takes Jin a moment to respond. But when he does, it’s with an intensity that is almost frightening. You’re startled by the way he pulls you close. It’s like the electricity from last night, but multiplied a hundred-fold. If you thought your heart was ready to burst before, it is nothing compared to the way molten lava fills your chest when his hands come up to gently cradle your face and deepen the kiss.

When you finally recall that oxygen is something you need, Jin pulls away and searches your gaze. His hands slide down to your waist, resting delicately along the flare of your hips. His face is bright red but his eyes are determined. 

Something about the way he is looking at you has you feeling shy. 

“That was weird, huh?” You stammer, trying to cover the way you feel so completely overwhelmed. “Sorry.” Your heart is dancing in your chest. It’s all too much for one person to feel and you’re just not really sure what to do with the sensation. Did he feel it too? This weird tension, like you’re a balloon about to pop?

Jin doesn’t break eye contact and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips. 

“Hard to say.” He finally says, breaking his long spell of silence. He then grabs at either side of your face, puckering his lips obnoxiously. “I think we need to try again to be sure.”

You barely have time to protest before he’s attempting to pull you in for a second kiss, although you slap a hand over his mouth to halt his advance. 

“Wait!” You accuse. “You can’t just kiss me and not respond to what I said!” 

“I already told you.” He snaps. “Your confession doesn’t count until we do it properly. Now if you excuse me-“ He grabs you by the elbows and tugs you back towards him, attempting to kiss you once more, but you stop him with a hand pressed to his chest. His expression turns pleading. “Just one more time.” He requests.

You swallow, and gaze into his eyes. It’s not an unfamiliar look, you realise. He’s looked at you like this before, but you now realise what the emotion was behind that look. 

“I love you.” You tell him. “I told you like this because yes. I couldn’t wait one more day. I don’t want to wait another day without you knowing. I love you.” You say one more time, just for good measure. 

His expression crumbles and he sighs in resignation, before pulling you tightly against him. His embrace is warm, and secure. It’s no different from all the other times he’s hugged you in your life, and yet nothing is the same.

“Fine.” He says, into the crook of your neck. “But I’m not saying it back until we have a proper date.” 

He pulls out of the hug and the love in his gaze is overwhelming. It’s not a confession, per se, but his intent is as clear as day. 

He loves you. You know he does.

“Deal.” You say back, and his response is his eyes crinkling up as he offers you that special smile, the one that he only shows when he’s really, truly happy. “But you’re paying.”

“How about we save any important conversations for the side of the portal where we’re not in constant mortal danger?” Jungkook demands, his head once more poking through the portal. There’s an awkward silence as he glances between the two of you, and then he groans. “Seriously? You had the entire journey to sort this out and you waited until now? You couldn’t even just leave it until after dinner?”

“Sorry!” You apologise quickly, going to follow Jungkook’s lead through the portal. But a hand wrapped around your wrist stops you- you hadn’t even noticed Jin had grabbed you. 

You turn to gaze questioningly at him, and he shrugs, shifting his hands until he can interlace his fingers with yours. 

“Wait. Let’s go together.” He requests, then pauses. “Can we?”

Something about this moment feels monumental. Huge. You’ve braved enemy encampments, crossed mountains. You’ve gone free-falling into giant ravines and overcome furious forest spirits. 

And yet this moment feels like the start to your biggest adventure yet. From this point on, real life starts. You smile at Jin and he returns it. 

“Yeah.” You say. “Let’s go together.”

Jin’s reply is covered by Jungkook’s annoyed call through the portal:

“What did I just say? Hurry up!”

                                                             ~Fin~