#I want to get back to my sibling route AU

[inifinitypink]

okay but, what if I told you I want to go back and draw fnf stuff while keeping the tag mute?

[nerosdayinanime]

Shinazugawa head family! (whos still alive at least, minus Kyogo)

I dont have anything like. history/folklore/origin myth for them yet but present-time the Shinazugawa clan is generally known as barbaric and merciless in their endeavors and lifestyle. They train children from the moment they learn to walk and expected to give their life to help the clan, Kyogo as clan head (was) the latest link in the long line of war-mongers who thought that more land = better and used the clan as fodder to get more riches & reputation.

Said reputation was not improved by the clan's kekkei genkai, an ability to consume chakra and absorb it for their own use. the 'consumtion' is infamously mistaken as just plain cannibalism, because the most common method of getting another's chakra is from the source. Users who have the kekkei genkai have englarged fangs, slit pupils, and when the ability is activated, dark sclera. Those who carry the gene for it (even if they dont have it) have sharper canines and their pupils can stretch to slits.

the Kochos were in some deep shit with a lightning-natured clan & agreed to a marriage alliance in turn for protection, thus Shizu got stuck with him. It was almost good at first because Kyogo thought he could trust her with his back, but he decided she was too weak to do that and she turned into a glorified paper pusher.

Shizu was still a hard worker and did her damn best to make life even a little bit easier for those she saw, and when she had children she tried to shield them from the horrors the best she could. when she couldn't she'd at least be there to comfort them.

Teiko was the first child to die- she was being trained by Shizu as a medic since Kocho are well versed in iryo-jutsu, but Kyogo had her sent with a patrol group in one of the more contested areas and she was killed in the fight.

Koto was second- he was brought to a border battle and was subsequently killed in action.

Shuya was last- he was sent on a mission with Sanemi and a few other clansmen, it went south very fast and Sanemi couldn't save him.

---

When Sanemi got home after that to give a mission report, Kyogo completely waved it off as the usual casualties and was generally disrespectful and dismissive about it. Sanemi finally snapped. He started laughing & Kyogo told Shizu to get her kid under control, but she was still in shock processing that another of her children were killed. When he slapped her Sanemi went into a fit of rage and enhanced his muscles with chakra and sent his fist right through his chest.

After all that chaos was processed and settled out, Sanemi was then the new clan head. He his mother and a few trusted advisors set about fixing a lot of shit wrong with the clan and set about improving relations with the surrounding clans.

Kumeno were wary about the sudden change in authority but weren't adverse to Sanemi being head, Kocho were very glad that 1 they were still allied even tho Kyogo's dead 2 they still get protection & 3 that they're trying to change the deeply violent & toxic culture within the clan

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. 12k words

AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.

Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.

Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.

In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.

From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.

One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.

“Minho, this is important.”

“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”

His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.

“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”

At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.

You gulp.

“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.

Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.

Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.

Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.

According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.

Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.

At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.

“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.

Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.

Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.

Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.

Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.

A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.

“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.

If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.

Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.

And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.

They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.

Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.

Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.

A devil, dressed as an angel.

“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.

Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.

It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.

Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.

“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.

Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.

“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.

“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.

Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.

“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”

Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.

“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.

Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.

“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.

“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”

About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.

“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”

You shiver.

Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.

The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.

What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.

“Do you know what he does?”

Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.

“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.

“The King, what does he do all day long?”

One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.

Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.

“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.

“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.

“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“

“Tell who?”

You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.

A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.

Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.

You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.

Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.

You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.

And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.

Pleased.

King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.

Vile.

Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.

“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.

Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.

“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”

Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.

“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.

“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”

“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.

In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes. 

Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear. 

King L/N, written in that same, cursive font. 

Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.

Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.

“He won’t bite y’know.”

“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.

Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears. 

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears. 

You won’t bleed without biting back. 

Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer. 

The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.  

His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.

“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”

“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”

Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.

The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger. 

“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“

“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.

Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.

Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.

“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”

Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.

Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.

“Excuse m-“

“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”

Ah. Right.

Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.

Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate. 

The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.   

“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.

Salve. What salve?

Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.  

“You smell.”

Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.

Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.

“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”

You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.” 

To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.

Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.  

Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.

What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight. 

The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past. 

Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead. 

Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest. 

Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified. 

“We’ve arrived.”

Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.

And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.

“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side. 

The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.

“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar. 

“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.” 

Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.

“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”

Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness. 

“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.

“..He forgot something again.”

Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent. 

Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions. 

Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.

This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.

From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.

A short term fix.

“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”

Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.

“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.

“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”

Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—

‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’

Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin. 

..End already? The endless winter.. ending?

“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.

“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes. 

Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?

“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”

Seungmin grins.

“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident. 

“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”

Marriage. 

What.

“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”

Seungmin clears his throat.

“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”

Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?

You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation. 

“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”

But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts. 

“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”

Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.

“Your scent.”

Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”

Oh.

That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.

Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.

“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?” 

Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.

However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.

“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”

And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.

If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.

Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.

An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.

Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.

Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.

No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to. 

He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.

Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry. 

Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.

Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.

You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.

Run away. 

Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable? 

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison. 

Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.

Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls. 

Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan. 

Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.

Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.

If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.

Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.

Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors. 

Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight. 

You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.

Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly. 

Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.

Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across. 

Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.

And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there. 

But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.

For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.

Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.

Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.

Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway. 

Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.

Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous. 

Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.  

I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.

Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.

Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.

Enough thinking. You have to go. 

Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.

That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.

The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent. 

Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.

Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.

Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.

You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.

“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”

A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.

Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve. 

Gone.

“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”

He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear. 

Deer caught in headlights. 

A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.

He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.

This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please. 

As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.

A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face. 

In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.

King Bahng. 

He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.

So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face. 

Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.

Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience. 

Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.

“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement. 

Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom. 

Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something. 

“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter. 

“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you. 

Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon. 

Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.

“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”

Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal. 

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately. 

The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed. 

Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway? 

You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears. 

“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”

Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are. 

“I promise.”

Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron. 

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.” 

Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.

However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.

All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow. 

It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck. 

Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.

To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.

Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.

This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch. 

Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.

“Hey Minho?”

Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.

“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”

He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest. 

No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge. 

Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower. 

“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”

The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.

Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“

“When do you want to train.”

All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.

“Tomorrow?”

Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.

Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting. 

Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet. 

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle. 

Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.  

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”

Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.

Wait.

Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.

“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”

A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.

“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”

Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead. 

“Isn’t that unfai—“

“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”

He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances. 

“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”

Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.

Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus. 

Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable. 

Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.

Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils. 

Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.

“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”

There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.  

Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.

“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”

You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it. 

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.

Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.

Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.

You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.

Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.

“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”

Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.

Deception is your greatest weapon.

Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now. 

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle. 

The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.

In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.

“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”

Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.

“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”

Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.

“One more match?”

You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open. 

Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing. 

He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.

Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.  

“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“

“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.

Huh?

What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?

Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage. 

They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.

If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.

Lies.

Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.

No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible. 

No weakness, no mercy. 

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”

Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.

However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.

The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.

Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.

You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief. 

Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.

Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing. 

You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.

This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme. 

Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.

In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held. 

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty? 

Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.

There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.

No escape. 

Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.

“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer. 

“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”

He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.

Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.

Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold. 

Inside lies a gown.  

A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.

Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.

You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well. 

If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.

And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.

Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.

What awful circumstances.

“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.

Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.

Of course you had to choose now to try it on.

His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.

Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.

Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.

He clears his throat.

“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“

He sounds timid, like a child.

A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode. 

“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.

Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.

As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.

Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.

“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks. 

“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.” 

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”

Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.

A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”

Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.

What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?

Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud. 

And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all. 

You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.” 

Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.

“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact. 

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter. 

“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”

You scoff.  

“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“

“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail. 

“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.” 

He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.

When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.

“And why is that?”

Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.

He’s right, in some way. 

You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep. 

Yet, you aren’t. 

You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.

But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours. 

You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.

An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.

“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”

For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”

“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”

“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.

You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.

You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether. 

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”

Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.

“I want to see spring again.”

Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.

“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.

“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.

For now, you’re indifferent.

“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.

“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”

All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait? 

Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you. 

Oh Felix.

His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”

You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.

“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?” 

His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.

“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.

You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.

If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.

On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.

And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you. 

She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.

Your stomach wrenches.

By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended. 

The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.

You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.

Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.

As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.

“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard. 

Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.

“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.

Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips. 

“Then before I die, let me have this first.”

And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.

Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.

Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.

“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“

You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking. 

He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things. 

The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.

He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.

But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.

Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.

After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.

Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.  

Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on. 

However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.

“Could be better.” 

He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.

Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.

Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room. 

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that. 

Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you. 

He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.

“You kept the ring on?”

Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest. 

“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”

He grins, giggling childishly. 

“Is that the only reason?”

Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.

You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance. 

Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.

The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.

“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.

He perks up.

“Hm?”

You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.

“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”

“Care to tell me the other reason?” 

Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him. 

“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?” 

Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution. 

Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet. 

You clear your throat.

“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”

Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone. 

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night. 

Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.” 

He sucks in a breath.

“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”

It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space. 

“Chris, do you love me?”

You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him. 

Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever. 

This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him. 

“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”

How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power. 

Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.

“I hate you, so much.” 

Then another kiss.

His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back. 

“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.

“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard. 

Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.

“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”

You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.

What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink. 

You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.

“I’d be honored.”

FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[friendly-neighborhood-boricua]

[3] Career Fair

Summary: James holds a parents' career fair, to which Liam's mom is invited.

Notes: Marauders modern elementary school AU, kindergarten teacher!James Potter x nurse!reader, mom!reader x son!OC (Liam), inspired by this post by @ravishinglavishingluvr. Hah, remember last time where I said I was updating semi-regularly? Ok well I actually mean it now, I promise lmao. Not edited but I'll do that tomorrow. Also kinda short, sorry

A/N (1/8/2024): okok I came back here to change the names of some kids bc I forgot that this is a marauders au so I can use the names of like real kids from harry potter smhhhhh please don't get mad at me this is my first time writing an au

Previous Part: Seeing Each Other Around Town Next Part: Liam and James Make You A Birthday Gift Series Masterlist here

James ended up pushing the career fair back a couple weeks because there was a conflict in the schedule

(not because you emailed him back saying you wouldn’t be able to come the day he had originally planned it)

(and definitely not because he asked you to send him your shift schedule so he could make sure you could come, and you were working overtime for two weeks straight)

(James was pretty sure your work schedule violated some labor laws or something, but he was in no place to question you)

Liam is soooo excited for the couple days leading up to the career fair

Because his mom is cool af and he can’t wait to show everybody just how badass you are

(You had Liam pretty young, so you’re totally the parent who all the kids think is the coolest person alive and who all the kids’ older siblings have crushes on and who all the kids’ parents judge because of your age and assume you’re irresponsible, but we don’t have to talk about that)

James is also excited because he hasn’t had a real conversation with you in a couple weeks and he really just wants to talk to you

Poor Sirius and Remus have had to deal with him swooning and fawning and over you and also helping him frantically prepare for this career fair because “guys it HAS to be perfect”

But at long last, the day finally arrives

James scheduled the career fair in the afternoon so he could threaten children with canceling the event if they misbehave, so both he and his kids are bouncing off the walls in excitement all morning

He eats lunch in the library with Remus and Sirius, and they both spend the entire time hyping him up

(It’s mostly Sirius tho)

“You’ve got this, Prongs—be smooth—be nice—you’re a nice bloke, that’s not gonna be a problem for you—”

And eventually, it’s time

The parents that are participating in the fair arrive ten minutes before James has to get the kids from the cafeteria so he can explain to them what’s going to happen (because god knows the majority didn’t read the goddamn email he sent)

You’re a little late (profusely apologizing again, and it reminds James of the first time you met back at parent-teacher conferences) but you read the email the night before (and take another piece of James’ heart hostage while you’re at it) so it’s no worries

James’ summary instructions take a shorter amount of time than expected, so the ten or so parents all get to talking

And ofc James takes this opportunity to talk to you

You’d emailed back and forth about the fair but you hadn’t really talked in person since that night in the grocery store, and James was starting to feel like he’d die if he went another day without talking to you

So he’s plotting his route to you across the classroom when he notices you’ve secluded yourself a few steps away from the majority of the parents’ conversation

James is also horrified to discover you look slightly uncomfortable

Like you’re somewhere you don’t belong

And of course James can’t have that

So he sidles up next to you and asks how your day is going, if your boss gave you a hard time getting off work early, how the chocolate chip cookie dough from a month and a half ago was—anything he can think of, really

By the time James has to go get the kids from the cafeteria, you’re smiling and laughing, and James desperately wants to keep you like that all the time

He shakes himself out of his daydreamy state on the way to the cafeteria because this is your JOB, James, you can’t be distracted by your favorite student’s mom. His sweet, kind, whip-smart, dazzling … mom …

(In the back of his mind, James knows he’s screwed, he just has no idea what to do about it)

(CERTAINLY not act on it, because that would be a complete conflict of interest and totally unprofessional of him)

(But it’s just a crush)

(It’s fine)

(Right?)

ANYWAY

Liam’s on the lookout for you as soon as he steps through the door, and he beams the sweetest little chubby-cheeked smile when he finds you and points you out to his friends

You wink playfully at him, and he and his friends giggle excitedly as they sit in their seats

If James is being completely honest with himself, the career fair was a little disappointing

The majority of the parents’ presentations were kinda lame

And they didn’t make their jobs understandable or appealing for the kids

Dean's mom (she’s regional manager of a popular grocery store chain) complained to the class about her boss pretty much the whole time

Luna’s father, a rather eccentric professor at the local university, just spewed a bunch of nonsense technical jargon about the soul or the meaning of life or something that not even the adults in the room could understand

And Draco's dad (he owns the local insurance company and is just obscenely wealthy, which explains quite a bit of his son's attitude) straight up said he hated his job, so there’s that

But then there was your presentation

James is sure he’s in love by now because you made being a nurse sound so amazing

You talked about how you’re in charge of taking care of people when they’re sick or hurt, how it’s nice to be able to help people, how even when your job gets hard, you feel like you’ve made a positive impact at the end of the day

Once the parents left, James asked the kids who’s presentation they liked the most

And ofc every kid in that room agreed that yours was the best

And a solid 75% said they wanted to be a nurse lmao and he was just so proud

Proud of his kids and also you because your presentation was just so fucking good

As James is taking the kids out to the buses, Liam thanks him for inviting you to the career fair

Ofc James says it was no problem and that you’re really cool, so it was a pleasure to have you there

And Liam kinda gives James this … look … and is like “… yeah, my mom is cool …”

And James gets this horrible feeling that Liam somehow knows

Knows he’s completely smitten for Liam’s mom

Fallen head over heels

Practically in love at this point (though James has a nasty habit of throwing that word around willy-nilly)

(Liam kinda freaks James out a bit sometimes lmao)

Next Part: Liam and James Make You A Birthday Gift

[twost3ps]

*Au idea:Dreaded king Adam*

The council of heaven(or God) had to promise Adam to Lucifer(kind of like the Persephone story). The harem hates this idea but it’s no use.

Also just imagine their reaction to Adam coming into a meeting with a baby Charlie(she was made by magic by Lucifer to make Adam happy).

That to me can be either sad or funny because it can go one of two ways

An angsty route where the harem only gets to see Adam in the meetings and either romantically or not, miss each other’s company. Even if Adam does come to love Lucifer at some point or does willingly go down and feels content in hell ofc he’s going to miss the people he used to hang out with. Those meetings have a a great underlying vibe of longing that no amount to treasure can mediate

not my thing so there’s also the crack funny route where the harem would def be distraught before they're like :

"You know what imma sneak down there idgaf"

One of them was def crying for a bit before the decision is made (it's Mike and Jophiel)

Idk whether or not you're envisioning that Adam is together with them before the engagement or just likes them platonically tho but assuming he is romantic again I do find it funny if they sneak into lucifers castle with his help and they hang around until lucifer catches on (I mean Adam doesn't have be with them to just wanna hang out with his old buddies. It does get lonely in that castle lol. And what is hell to do againt what is basically a group of unstoppable forces)

They're all hanging out in the master bedroom till lucifer busts in shocked to see them all there

Lucifer: Wh- WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING HERE!?

Gabriel: Catching up with our boyfriend, duh. What do you want?

Lucifer: for you all to leave???

Uriel: mmnnnn.... naaaah..

Raphael: yeah we really miss our boyfriend so if you don't wanna be here could you just...? *he kinda just shoos lucifer*

Lucifer looks all pissed off: If you don't remember, IM the one who lives here and IM the one married to him.

Hes showing off his ring but there's a united scoff from the harem

Azrael: no offense but since when did you respect the sanctity of marriage?

This leads to this large fight, tho since lucys outnumbered, so he's not winning here. Thankfully, adam is there to calm them down. Adam argues that while yes hes married to lucifer, it wasnt fair to be pulled away from the people he cares about so no, hes still going to see his harem (whether romantic or not is up to you. He can just like being around them as friends while still loving lucifer or at least growing to love him)

So lucifer gets at least one archangel or virtue visiting every day. This oddly gets the siblings closer to lucifer again. They sometimes hang out with Lucifer as well or just him for old times sake

They could even have their own rooms there too. It would be kinda nice to see and bond with his family again. Maybe Lucifer opens the marriage idk tho

When they see Charlie for the first time, they're shocked and a bit jealous. Gabe def wanted kids with Adam lol. They're actually pretty good with her all things concerned, but they do dress her up and act like she's their own. Since she's made of magic and young, I do think they have some moderate influence on her appearance. Like she's still forming in a way. So when they first get their hands on her, they change the color of her cheek marks to their responding colors. It's like that scene in sleeping beauty with the faries and the dress, but imagine the rainbow instead and whats changing is charlies cheeks and hair color. Adam does get huffy about it tho and they all reluctantly turn her back to red cheeked and blonde

Ngl in the early stages they were trying to be another parent to her as a sort of get back at Lucifer for 'stealing' Adam, trying to get her favor whenever they visit or have meetings. But they chill out over time. Doesn't mean they don't get a bit smug is charlie seems to prefer going to them for some things.

The only really dreaded thing is, for the harem at that point, is not being always able to barge in

This was probably supposed to be more angst or something my bad lol

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 2 MATCH 64

Jaehee propaganda:

“only female love interest in MM, not included in the first round for SOME REASON, you literally go off and live your coffee shop au with her at the end of her route.”

“My lesbian wife. Open a bakery with her after convincing her that she doesn't have to give up her happiness to make money. She can pursue her passions. Also her backstory is so sad and I just wanna hug and kiss her and throw hands at her "family" for making her feel like she does. Also the Valentine's dlc, you get locked in the back of the bakery with her and... Yeah that's my wife. I love her dearly. Also can we just acknowledge that she's like the only path that involves almost none of the dramatic death defying nonsense. You're just gay and in love and it's beautiful”

Ashe propaganda:

“He is so sweet and chivalrous. He used to be a thief to provide for his family until he was caught, then the person who caught him adopted him so he didn't have to be the sole provider for his siblings.  Now he gets to go to school and wants to be a knight like in the storybooks. He also loves to cook and some of his supports with other characters in the kitchen are so cute. The ending with the main character says that they became inseparable and regardless of which route/house was chosen, a big part of their future together is helping support those who are less fortunate and rebuilding the world together.”

[if-rambling]

My mc for “Children of Cain”

Name: Enrique Augustus Guerrero

Nickname: Ricky

Pronouns: He/him

Major: music

Height: very tall

Orientation: Gay

Romancing: Wilhelm

Extracurriculars: Guitar, Voice lessons, Swimming, Computer Programming, Debate Society

Languages spoken: Latin, Dutch, French, Italian, Mandarin, Spanish

Fatal flaw: Personal loyalty

His highest personality stats are friendly, genuine, and laidback

For music the one he plays the most is guitar

Ricky went to the dinner but a part of him wanted to go to the party so bad

The person he’s spent the most time with so far is Maxwell but once Ricky meets Wilhelm then he’s ditching Maxwell as fast as possible

He’s supportive of his dad dating again. He just wants him to be happy

Bro is surprisingly chill about a lot of things. He didn’t get mad at Vance really he just wants him to make sure that something like that doesn’t happen again

He’s very willing to be friends with cédric but he sometimes can’t help teasing him or competing with him

He thinks dumitru is pretty cool from what he’s seen and wants to get to know him some more

Im so excited to see Wilhelm. I fell in love with him from all the snippets on the blog. Doesn’t help that I’m weak for friends to lovers and blondes. Also the nickname of “Elmo” for Wilhelm in the snippets make me so fucking weak it’s unfair

I could so clearly see Ricky accidentally sibling zone Wilhelm as children and when he realizes his feelings now that they’re older he’ll just go “fuck”

Ricky’s in game aesthetic is punk but I felt drawn to these outfit choices when making him in the picrews

Oh yeah I saw that love triangle au teaser and I’m saying sorry to cédric right now. you don’t have a chance my guy

I played some other games made by this author and it’s so easy to get hooked into the stories by the author. He is probably one of my favorite IF authors. I love going back and rereading character snippets on the blog because each one is so interesting and usually I’m the type to only stick to a route related to my main RO but the writing for this game has me going back and replaying other routes and checking different dialogue options. I’m super excited for future chapters and can’t wait to see more of the story

Edit because I realized like a week later I forgot to tag @childrenofcain-if 🫠. I do not know how I forgot

The picrews I used for Ricky

[scaranation]

I saw that requests were still open and I crawled back from the firey pits of hell to offer you Scaramouche brain rott along with a personal AU that hit me like a foking brick like two days ago.

So first off. Imagine if you will. That Mr. McGrump wasn't actually just one entity but actually a trio of twin brothers that wandered around Teyvat known as the "the trio of eccentrics". They despise each other (cuz of course they do) but decide to travel together cuz no matter how hard they try to NOT bump into each other, the world is just so big for a trio of dumbasses that are chaotic on their own right.

They cannot get along to save their lives. The amount of times Scaramouche and Wanderer have gotten smacked on the face with Kabukimono's smithing hammer are just too many to count. Not to mention that as feeble as he appears to be he has a scarily good aim much to his brother's previous dismay as they have been greeted with a flying hammer to the back of the head multiple times when they have run into each other "by chance" before.

People tend just get confused when one of them randomly spawns on a town and seemingly sprout two other clones like some kind of mitosis type shit until they realize it's just a trio of siblings.

I also low-key feel y/n would accidentally bump and help all of them separatedly by chance only for them to all either think of them fondly or straight up have a little crush on them. I can just see Kabuki rambling to wanderer how some sweet person saved him from a hoard of electro slimes only for him to remember how someone offered to invite him to some food in one of his travels similar to the one his brother mentioned. Only for Scara to interrupt demanding if they were talking about this one very specific person that offered him shelter that one time he was injured after some misión or something. Cue y/n casually walking by and all of them losing their collective shit cuz HOLY SHIT THAT'S THEM- WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNOW THEM TOO????? And thus the quest of winning over the kind stranger begins.

Idk if this was even mildly entertaining but this idea has been eating my brain for days and needed to spew it somewhere. Love your work! ✨✨✨

OMLL HOWW YOUR BRAINROTS ARE SO GOOD I CANT 😭😭 this took me a while to write but i had to get everything out to even do this idea some justice it’s got me giggling fr

༊*·˚ 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄

ft. Scaramouche, Kabukimono, Wanderer

Content: fluff, crack (but treated seriously)

a/n - innocent Kabukimono just lives rent free in my heart omlll like just imagine a less traumatised Scara <33

The trio of short haired, violet-eyed wanderers (also known as “the trio of eccentrics” by the local children) were a common sight in Teyvat. Prior to the revelation that they were, in fact, siblings, people had believed that they were either a teleporting ghost or some human aphid with miraculous cloning abilities. That was until someone saw two of the them in the same room, and connected the dots.

Scaramouche, the Wanderer, and Kabukimono were inseparable - not of their own will, of course. On their erratic, impulsive routes across Sumeru, they’d somehow cross paths more often than they wanted. In fact, they’d made an effort to avoid each other. The Wanderer had retreated all the way to the Hypostyle Desert, cackling at his own genius. Unfortunately, he also found Scaramouche and Kabukimono at the desert too - both dumbfounded at the ridiculous situation. Somehow, all three of them had simultaneously decided that hiding in the desert to not see each other was a great idea.

“What are you doing here?” the Wanderer had blurted.

“No, what are you doing here? I had this idea yesterday!” Kabukimono cried.

“Both of you, get out of my sight. I hatched this plan two weeks ago.” Scaramouche grumbled.

“Oh, how diabolical and calculating you are,” the Wanderer rolled his eyes, as though he wasn’t just praising himself for what he thought was the most intelligent idea to ever exist.

“Fine, I’ll leave first.” Kabukimono sighed. Perhaps it was because he was the youngest, but he was always ended up giving in to his brothers.

“Pushover,” the Wanderer smirked.

“Says the unemployed one,” Scaramouche scoffed.

“At least I have a vision.”

“Shut up.”

The many other times the trio convened by accident, two of them weren’t even conscious to fully process their irritation. The moment Kabukimono spotted Scaramouche or the Wanderer at his favourite resting place, he’d let loose his hammer - striking them on the back of the head with scary aim. He’d congratulate himself if he managed to score a concussion, too. It wasn’t as though the others didn’t defend themselves equally vigorously. If they couldn’t settle things with words, the brothers would just break out into fighting.

Things were especially bad when the Wanderer got ahold of Kabukimono’s hammer. Upon wrestling it out of the blacksmith’s grip, the Wanderer would flit into the air, gleefully holding the hammer out of reach until Scaramouche had enough and struck him down with a bolt of lightning.

“You look like a fly when you do that, you know?”

“You’re just jealous.”

Somehow, you were always at the centre of the trio’s unpredictable paths of destruction across Teyvat. You never really guessed at the connection between them, only dismissing it as a mere coincidence that you’d developed a fondness for three purple haired, short-tempered travellers.

As an adventurer, you’d first met Kabukimono on one of your errands.

“Stay away!”

You heard the clanging of something heavy on your inspection in Guyun, turning around to locate the source of the voice.

You followed the commotion around past the domain you’d just exited from, finding a crevice tucked away into a small beach-like area. Clumps of electro crystals clung to the stone walls of the cove, the lapping of the waves only perpetuating the intense elemental reactions. At the centre of it all was a strangely dressed man, being attacked by a hoard of electro slimes. He flailed around with a blacksmith’s hammer, presumably caught in his own attempt to mine valuable ores for a project.

His clothes looked to be of Inazuman attire, too - what was an Inazuman doing, looking for electro crystals all the way out in Liyue?

“Do you need help?” You crouched down, a little hesitant over whether or not it was obligatory for you to jump into the electro-charged mess.

“It… certainly looks like it, doesn’t it?” The man flashed you a defeated smile. Luckily, as a pyro vision holder, it wasn’t too difficult for you to deal with the slimes. With a brief flash of your vision, you also mined the ores for the stranger as well.

“Ah! So they require elemental triggers to be mined. No wonder it was taking me so long. Thank you, by the way - I’m Kabukimono.” The stranger extended a hand. You took it, but he didn’t shake it. The two of you stood there awkwardly for a moment, before he released your hand.

“Ah, sorry… That’s what I see people at the workshop do when they meet someone new. Is it strange?”

“No, of course not! You usually shake the hand after holding it, though.” You quipped helpfully.

“Oh.” A flush spread across his cheeks. He thanked you vehemently once again, insisting on offering you some spare iron in exchange for your help.

“Travel safe!” You called after Kabukimono, as he hurried off. He was a little strange, but his awkwardness was rather endearing. You smiled and shook your head, before resuming work and thinking nothing more of the entire ordeal.

Unlike Kabukimono, the second of the trio you met was a lot more irritable. You met the Wanderer at some food stalls in Sumeru city, almost mistaking him for the acquaintance you’d met in Guyun - only to be quickly corrected by his vastly different attitude.

“Watch it.” The stranger that looked suspiciously like Kabukimono (but with a remarkably more hostile, pointed gaze) shoved past you.

“These lavender melons. How much do they cost?” Not-Kabukimono asked the vendor, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Uh, 200 mora-”

“What? Who sells trash like this so expensively? Forget it, I didn’t want them anyway.” The Wanderer scoffed, turning to leave before you quickly grabbed him.

“If you’re hungry, you can eat at my place. I have some leftovers,” you offered. He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.

“Why are you helping me? Is this a poisoning attempt?”

“No… You just remind me of an acquaintance of mine, so I thought I’d look out for you.”

“Pfft, I don’t need your baseless concern.”

At that moment, the man’s stomach grumbled. The two of you made eye contact, before reaching a silent agreement.

“My house is that way,” you pointed, as the stranger begrudgingly followed you.

Even if he didn’t say so, the stranger most definitely enjoyed your cooking. After introducing himself as the Wanderer, he was quick to open up - always stopping by to visit (claiming that you were a convenient dining place for his travels).

Whenever he stopped by, you’d laugh and cook him a warm meal - it almost felt like home to him, or at least what he thought a home was. He never really had one, nor did he care for the notion, but this arrangement was quite pleasant for him. If the Wanderer was in a good mood, he’d even share some of his travelling stories with you. He’d boast about the enemies he defeated in the wilderness, complain about the stupidity of mortals, before giving you the rare piece of acknowledgement (“you know, your cooking is edible,” or “it’s definitely not poisoned,” etc.).

You quickly grew to anticipate his sporadic visits, getting an understanding of what kind of food he preferred. You weren’t sad when he didn’t arrive, and the two of you thrived off a mutual relationship. The Wanderer was surely different from your other companion, but that didn’t make him any less welcome.

Lastly, you’d met Scaramouche on an ominous rainy day. Or, rather, he’d been deposited on your doorstep.

“I don’t remember ordering a parcel…” You peered out into your doorway, squinting through the lashing rain - before realising that this ‘parcel’ was very much human-shaped.

With a surprised gasp, you dragged the figure inside as carefully as you could, wincing at the blood mixed with rainwater that swirled across his smooth skin. Peeling back the heavy layers of his outer coat, you took off the man’s hat to gape again in shock.

“Kabukimono?” You spluttered.

“Who are you calling Kabukimono?” The stranger snapped, sitting up slowly.

“Wanderer?” You tried again, guessing based on the man’s furious expression.

“Hah, you dare to…”

Before the stranger (that was neither Kabukimono nor the Wanderer) could finish his sentence, he passed out again in a haze of dizzying unconsciousness.

The man’s deep indigo eyes fluttered open a while later to the sight of you tending his wounds. He immediately flinched away, looking at you incredulously.

“Who are you? Why am I here?”

“You quite literally passed out on my porch, then again in my house. Don’t you remember?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“You dare gaslight a Fatui Harbinger? Try as hard as you want, but I won’t be giving you financial compensation for this.”

“You’re… a Harbinger…?” You frowned. He sure acted and looked a lot like the Wanderer - perhaps he’d hit his head a little too hard.

“Yes, Scaramouche. I’m better known as the Balladeer, of course.”

“I’ve never heard of you.”

“Well, then that just means we’re doing a great job of maintaining confidentiality.” Scaramouche huffed, allowing you to continue wrapping bandages around the deep gashes on his body. You chuckled at his demeanour.

“I’m not expecting anything in return for this.” You offered, leaning back to scrutinise your medical work. Years of adventuring had given you experience in this sort of thing, but your expertise was still lacking.

“Then why? Don’t tell me, you believe in kindness?”

“Anyone would do this if they found a stranger half-dead at their door in the pouring rain.” You rolled your eyes.

“I was not half-dead, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Scaramouche huffed, and you almost gawked at how similar he was to the Wanderer.

“Um, do you happen to know anyone named… Uh…” You hesitated under your new acquaintance’s fierce gaze.

“Named what? Do I look like an Akasha terminal to you?”

“Never mind.” You quickly shut your mouth. Perhaps it was just a coincidence.

It took a few months before the trio finally figured out they had a mutual connection. They’d all visited you countless times, and yet were lucky enough not to encounter each other - that was, until they finally began talking about their latest travel experiences upon having a chance meeting in Sumeru.

“Hm, perhaps this is what mortals call… comradeship…” Kabukimono mused to his brothers one day.

“Feeling a little amicable, Kabukimono?” Scaramouche sneered. He eyed the glimmering purple blade Kabukimono flipped over in his hands.

“There was this adventurer who saved me from some electro slimes once. It was because of them that I could fashion this dagger… Humans really are compassionate.” Kabukimono mused. He happily smiled to himself at the reminder of you.

“You’re so naive, brother. After all, mortals are only driven by fair exchange. Nobody would help without expecting it return - ah, there is one exception. There was this person I met who offered me food. I’ve been having free meals with them for months, and they don’t even know how I’m taking advantage of them! How immature they are, selflessly acting like that. It almost makes me concerned for their well-being,” the Wanderer chuckled.

“I don’t think you’re taking advantage of them if you’re… just accepting the free meals they give you. It almost seems they have you wrapped around their finger.” Scaramouche snickered.

“You wouldn’t understand the idea of a mutually beneficial relationship. In fact, have you even talked to a living being other than your colleagues in the last week?”

“Yes, you, and a certain traveller who took me in after I was injured in a mission-”

“You got injured? How pathetic.”

“It was a calculated risk. Anyway, they gave me shelter and treated all my wounds without asking for mora once. And they even let me stay over long after I’d healed, too. Mortals are so foolish, to be blindly trusting. I could’ve snapped their throat in a second.”

The three brothers agreed on the extremely rare and (questionably naive) selflessness of humans.

Then, a beat of silence passed before a revelation dawned on them.

“Isn’t it weird that we’ve all met a strange, helpful adventurer?” Kabukimono murmured.

“Exactly what I was thinking. Surely not all humans are like this.” Scaramouche nodded.

“Maybe foolishness is more common than we thought…?” The Wanderer suggested, but an uneasy feeling was dawning on him as he began to connect the dots.

“Say, does the traveller you two met live near the Grand Bazaar?” Scaramouche prodded.

“Yes.” Kabukimono and the Wanderer responded simultaneously.

“And they have an adventurer’s bandana? With a Mondstadtian clock in the front room of their house?”

“Yes- YOU TWO KNOW THEM AS WELL?” Kabukimono spluttered.

The Wanderer only heaved a large sigh. He was so close to showing off that he had a new friend, only to realise that the new friend was also acquainted with both his brothers.

“How bothersome, it seems you’re already close with them.” Scaramouche raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I am! I met them first, after all.” Kabukimono insisted.

“Both of you, be quiet. I’m going to their place now.” The Wanderer pushed back his chair.

“Hey! I was planning to visit them too!”

The scraping of chairs resounded as the remaining two brothers hurriedly rushed to get to your house.

Any other person would probably pass out from fear at seeing all three of the notorious trio appear at their door. You, however, only shot them a bemused look and ushered them in.

Once the three realised they had competition, Scaramouche, the Wanderer, and Kabukimono would be unrelenting in competing for your attention.

It was quite comical at times - you’d barely have to say anything and one of them would appear, diligently doing tasks for you and looking back at you eagerly for praise. It seemed almost strange to consider that these three had been marvelling at your profound naiveness only a few days ago, and were now basically at your beck and call.

Scaramouche would definitely be the most demanding. Whether it was a hand on your elbow or a risky grip on your wrist, he made sure you were close to him and sought your undivided attention. He’d recklessly snap out searing insults at anyone else, before getting ahold of himself and stating that he was merely defending a poor, foolish soul from being taken advantage of by some calculating purple-haired villain. Not him though, he’d never do anything like that.

The Wanderer (like his name) was more relaxed - he could go without your eyes on him at all times, and he’d drift in and out as he pleased. However, he did see himself as being entitled to your energy whenever he did happen to stop by. Occasionally, he’d even offer to take you on a scenic flight across Teyvat. After you’d tried it once, you were quick to refuse his latter offers - zooming across rooftops at breakneck speed was not your forte. The Wanderer huffed at your reluctance and accused you of denying his altruistic favour, but made an effort to do things you liked regardless.

Kabukimono was fiercely shy. He’d always bring you trinkets - small mechanisms or self-defends tools he’d fashioned from spare parts during his work as a blacksmith. He’d press them into your hands self-consciously, unable to bite back a smile when you praised his handiwork. He wouldn’t hesitate to stand up against his much fiercer brothers if it was for you, holding you in a tight embrace whenever you’d let him.

And so, as it happened, it seemed as though “the eccentric trio” simply couldn’t escape each other. As if by some ill-humoured joke, they all ended up liking the same person. The only issue was, being that person, you now had to deal with all three of them at once.

As if one wasn’t enough, you now had triple the trouble.

༊*·˚

[siblingshuffle]

Sibling Shuffle: Rescue

thanks again for all your patience!

I decided to shade the characters but not the backgrounds

So!

A while back (as in, before my first Proto!Roll fan art), I came across this. And I decided to do like 1/2 of the plot, and what I came up with was this:

Lore: After Rhythm found Rock and took him back home to get advice from her family, they, well, got advice from Dr. LaLinde & Tempo that basically boiled down to "have you tried apologizing and correcting your mistake?"

At which point Rock admitted that he’d participated in a kidnapping scheme. He was right in the middle of saying that he didn’t know why Wily wanted the girl when Dr. Cossack made his announcement, basically immediately answering that question.

So, Rock decided that the best route would be to "un-kidnap" Kalinka Cossack and bring her back to her father. However, Tempo wanted to keep an eye on him (I mean from her perspective, her week-old little sister brought home a criminal who, while there, proceeded to confess to a crime that just kept getting worse).

While the inspiration source only had Tempo helping, I decided to let Rhythm be there, too.

Notes:

I’m not an engineer. I mean I’m pretty sure opening digital number locks the way Tempo did is generally something that won’t work, but idk for sure.

If it’s unclear, Rock is covering the girls, Tempo is there to keep an eye on Rock & help him save Kalinka, and Rhythm is mostly just going along for the ride (but as the only one with wings, she’s also there to make sure that Rock & Tempo don’t fall down any pits or anything lol)

Rock’s Buster looks slightly different in this AU

I had to remake the "brush" for Rock’s freckles. They don’t look quite the same, but I hope they look pretty okay.

Behold: the second most awkward conversation Rock had in his life lol

———————

Next Up: Rivalry(…?)

(Probably. This is my current plan, but it is subject to change depending on my IRL circumstances. Thank you for your continued patience and support!)

[vinelark]

do you have any good reverse robins fic to rec?

oh hell yeah!

Reverse Robins: Joker Junior series by miyaji_08 i rec’d the second fic in this series over here for the timkon of it all, but the series—two parts, both complete—is also one of my absolute favorite reverse robins stories. it goes the joker junior!tim route, so heads up for A Lot of tim-centric trauma, but gives tim (and everyone else) so much healing, too. it also gets creative with the robin of it all, as in, the call sign for batman’s partner is different from the jump because dick wasn’t around to originate “robin” for it, which i always think is a fun extra detail. the batfam characters are great and the young justice crew is also great, so read for top-tier hurt and comfort and great characters and satisfying plot and tim and damian competing to see who is the most Tired big brother of the bunch.

blood of the covenant by envysparkler robins are angsty in any order, but man does this hit the angst sweet spot, which in turn makes the soft parts feel even softer. i genuinely can’t decide what my favorite dynamic is in this AU, between damian & tim (damian wracked with guilt, tim hurting and still wanting an older brother even if he’d never admit it) and tim & jason (no spoilers but chapter 4 especially lights my brain up like a supernova) and tim & dick (i think about the part where dick grayson [tiny, cheerful] uses tim [undead, annoyed] as a jungle gym like once a week).

Wing Beats in Reverse by firefright a longfic where jason gets kidnapped by the mysterious red hood, who turns out to be jason’s not-so-dead predecessor. the jason pov here is great, and i was so compelled by how this AU explored his place in the bat family, and how it managed the emotional fallout from the kidnapping. tim is also so interesting in this—it does something i love in a reverse robins concept, which is make tim’s motivations (and lazarus pit effects) less about anger/hurt/revenge and more about ice cold logic, about being the villain so the bats don’t have to/whether they want him to or not. plus some league of assassins trauma as a cherry on top. also, kon gets to show up for a bit. (as a fair warning—and spoilers ahead—the fic has a somewhat hopeful ending for tim, but doesn’t reach full reconciliation in the scope of the plot.)

i woke up so worried that the angels let go by circees a short but potent batkids age reversal au that’s also a grisha au, starring duke as the coveted sun summoner that damian is trying to deliver to safety without mentally adopting a new brother (damian fails on the second part). even with my limited memory of grisha lore i could tell a lot of thought was put into this au, and i have a feeling it would be even better if you are able to catch all the details. i also love that even in a fantasy world where some of the bat family have magical abilities, duke is still extra special—a great analogy to being a metahuman among the bats.

The 90s Are Back! by RedWritingHood saving the two silly ones for last to lighten the mood! in this one, red hood!tim gets de-aged to sixteen and meets all his new siblings. it’s like .01% angst and 99.99% shenanigans, and pretty much all the dialogue is super quotable but Dick holds out his hands like he's calming a bunch of wild animals. "Okay, I know everyone's real upsetti spaghetti right now, but I think we all just need to calm down." might take the cake.

Clowns Don’t Kill People by mademoisellePlume very short, very silly reverse robins brother shenanigans, in which tiny dick grayson isn’t scared of recovering joker junior!tim because dick, having been raised in the circus, doesn’t associate clowns with evil yet. the fic is fun (and a great palate cleanser if you need a break from the angst above), and the author’s note at the end made me fully laugh out loud.

[sea-owl]

I LOVE THE OTOME AU SO MUCH I swear, the sound of excitement that came out of me when I saw the new post 🙈🤭 Already love seeing Colin fall for Penelope, they’re my faves

Aw thank you!

For this au I was thinking that things really kick off for the Bridgertons during the first night the spouses play the game. Everything starts out as normal. The Bridgertons get the screen in front of them that the game is loading and oh it's multiplayer! They haven't had that in a while, and eight players? Even more of a rare occurrence for them.

As the eight friends go through their character quizzes and building their avatars for the game the Bridgertons take time to study them. Something felt different about this group and they didn't know why.

Then the prologue before routes are chosen starts up, and each Bridgerton gets into place. As the group of friends continue to play the Bridgertons find themselves genuinely laughing and having fun after who knows how long. The real reactions that the Bridgertons can see through their screens are joys to watch, as are watching them choose which dialogue options.

Anthony can't help the smile on his face when Kate once again chooses the option that supposed to take away his love points.

"Kate you know you're supposed to romance the characters?" One of her friends will ask her.

"Yeah but this one," Kate would point at Anthony on the tv, "is aggravating and I will take him down a peg!"

Benedict knows he should be conversing with all the avatars in the prologue, but he finds he can't tear himself away from Sophie. He even went off script a little bit, which earned him a glare from Anthony, but seeing the real Sophie pause with a small blush made it worth it.

Colin was so thankful that Penelope got childhood friend with his family because now he doesn't have to make up an excuse to hang around her more than the others like his siblings would. It helps that real Penelope doesn't seem to be moving her avatar away either.

Daphne is having so much fun with Simon. Most players find Daphne to be the boring one of the sisters so her route isn't played as often and she finds herself being a support more often than not.

Eloise likes listening to Phillip when he tries to pick the academic options and then she gets to hear the real him go off on how that wasn't the real science. It's nice to have a player with a brain.

Francesca also doesn't get her route played much. Second chance loves aren't usually a route players want but the options that Michael picks when he's playing, that flirty style like he's unafraid has her blushing. Especially with how sincere he seems about it to.

Hyacinth and Gregory both found themselves laughing watching the team up between Gareth and Lucy. Oh were they fun! Nothing like the other players from before!

By the time the group of friends finished the prologue it was late and they agreed to pick the game back up in the morning. But first they lock in their routes.

The Bridgertons were ecstatic about the choices. They were even more when the friends fell asleep with the TV on. These players feel different, they make the Bridgertons excited to be a part of the game again. Could this lead to love?

They were going to find out.

When the group of friends woke up they were surprised to find themselves separated and in completely different style of bedrooms. As they went looking for one another, they realized they were in the world of the game they were playing the night before.

Uh oh.

[yanderepuck]

Ikevamp au where everything is the same except the suitor falls in love with you, but you hate them.

Imagine. An otome game, but you constantly turn down the guy.

Napoleons route: what makes you think I want to be your body guard?

You: what makes you think I want to be near a panty sniffer?

Napoleons route later: wait... I think I'm in love with her

You: why won't he leave me alone.

Wait why is this actually hilarious

Mozart's route: no one likes you and no one wants you here.

You: what makes you think I want to spend my time with a man who meowed at people?

Mozart's route later: so I actually really like your company

You: I've never enjoyed being around you for a moment after you called me a nuisance.

How would you expect me to fall in love with either of these two after they both tell me they want nothing to do with me. Please explain

Leonardo's route: I'm going to drag you around the city and have you help me with things

You: please just let me be depressed in the mansion

Leonardo's route later: I've really been enjoying our time together

You: please just let me be depressed in the mansion.

Just let her do her thing. She wants to go back home with no strings attached. Make sure she doesn't try to kill herself but please don't drag her along against her will.

Arthur's route: you're a pretty little thing

You: touch me and I will scream and bite you myself. Never speak to me. Don't even perceive me.

Arthur's route later: so it all started when I was a wee lad

You: didn't I tell you to stop acknowledging me? I'm not interested in your trauma. I didn't even know who wrote Sherlock until I got here

Let be real. Most of us didn't actually know. We knew Sherlock didn't write Sherlock but we didn't know it was some crazy fairy man.

Vincent's route: you're really sweet and I think we should be friends

You: yes. Friends is nice. You seem very nice

Vincent's route later: so..I..um...I want to be more than friends.

You: learn how to have a negative emotion and stop acting like being sad is a bad thing.

The boy is honestly toxic. He's going to invalidate your negative emotions I feel it.

Theo's route: hondje! You saw my scar and so now you're going to work for me!

You: shouldn't I be the one trying to blackmail you??

Theo's route later: you're actually a really good worker and have a good eye for art. I like you hondje

You: so you like capitalism? Am I even getting paid? I didn't travel through a door just to run around the city and sell art work

I'll never understand how it makes sense that Theo thinks he can make her do things bc he assumes she noticed some random ass scar. WHAT'S WRONG WITH EVERYTHING LEARNING YOU GOT SHOT. YOU DIDN'T COME FROM THE FUTURE. THEY CAN TECHNICALLY LOOK UP HOW YOU DIED.

Why did I have a hard time coming up with one for Isaac. Ik that boy is problematic but why am I having issues

Isaac's route: HOW DONT YOU KNOW ABOUT *insert very complicated scientific theory*

You: I went to public school my dude. Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell

Isaac's route later: she's very kind and patient. Is this what love feels like??

You: IF HE COULD SHUT UP ABOUT HIS WORK FOR 5 SECONDS THAT WOULD BE GREAT

I know once I post this I'll think of a better one for Isaac. But oh well. Boy needs to let you talk about your day.

Dazai's route: you're so cute. I'm going to adopt you as my little sister

You: you're a little weird... But I guess this is okay

Dazai's route later: so I really like you, but I need to push you away and act like I don't care because it's what's best

You: I have been here for two weeks and you've tried to kill yourself 4 times. How did you think I could mentally handle that let alone want to date you, PLUS YOU KEEP CALLING ME YOUR LITTLE SISTER

He sibling zones you up until the very end. What kind of Alabama kink do you got going on, Dazai

Jean's route: I'm not sorry that I bit you. Don't talk to me, I don't want friends. No one understands me anyway.

You: if Comte doesn't beat your ass for biting me then I'll do it myself.

Jean's route later: I think I'm learning what love is. She's helped me with so much and I want to repay her

You: he bit me and never apologized or got in trouble. Why the hell would I ever be interested in him. He's treating life like a SURVIVAL GAME

I have many complaints about Jean. But my main one is the biting and him never getting in trouble for it bc he's the favorite child.

Will's route: you found and read my note book and now I have to keep an eye on you so you don't tell anyone that I'm using this information against them to possibly get them killed!

You: sooo...you aren't writing all of this because you have bad social skills and are just trying to better understand everyone because they are all from a vastly different time period than you? Thanks for telling me your plan.

Will's route later: so I've realized the error of my ways and I'm not going to do the deed any more and I hope you can forgive me

You: LET ME OUT OF THIS DAMN VILLA

Will became a little too obsessed. Oops

Comte's route: it is my fault that you are here, so I will protect you and take care of all your needs while you are here. You'll be the daughter I never had

You: thanks! I'll work around the mansion to pass the time and get to know everyone better

Comte's route later: I know I have pushed you away multiple times but I really love you and I want to spend centuries with you

You: I have seen how bad of a parent you are and I've picked up your dirty clothes off the floor I don't think this is going to work

Comte just keeps daughter zoning you and then is like "so I love you" IS THIS WHERE DAZAI GETS IT FROM.

Sebastian's route: every time you do something wrong I'm going to flick your forehead

You: do that one more time and I swear to God I'm slapping that grin off your face

Sebastian's route later: being with you is making me miss home and consider going back to our time. I would love to go back with you and spend our lives together back in Japan

You: there's so many reasons why this wouldn't work out and staying at the top: YOU TOOK SOME RANDOM PILLS SOME PRIEST GAVE YOU. Not to mention you didn't tell ANYONE you were dying

If you're gonna fall in love with me at least tell me you're going to die in a few months.

Also not going to do the trio in this moment. Oops sorry

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[jellicle-chants]

Guess what I just found in my drafts that I meant to publish like... a year ago 🥴🙃🥲 Anyway, have some details about my CATS Speakeasy AU! I'm really hoping to get back around to this in more detail sometime soonish, so better to study up now...

Munk is the adopted son of Old Deut, who raised many such foundlings and in general created a safe place for anyone who didn't have one. In the narrative of the AU, he's trying to solve one of Macavity's plots (probably some kind of kidnapping situation). He also takes care of Jemima, who was left on his doorstep in an echo of his own origin. Plato tags along as his apprentice, although he's not often helpful with his two younger brothers, Tumblebrutus and Pouncival, getting in his way.

The titular speakeasy, The Smitten Kitten, is co-run by Deme and Bomba, as a way to get back on their feet after escaping from Macavity (along with Alonzo, who plays piano). Tugger is also here, doing miscellaneous jobs and generally being an obnoxious flirt. Romances are undefined as of now but definitely happen.

Bustopher Jones is a British expat who moved to the US with his housekeeper (and requited crush) Jennyanydots, in a misguided attempt to straighten out his godchildren/wards, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. It does not go well, especially when Munk needs to call on the twins' troublemaking abilities to infiltrate Macavity's lair.

Some other things I've worked out, but haven't managed to integrate into the main plot yet:

Jellylorum and Asparagus (Gus Jr) run a struggling off-Broadway theatre started by their father. In between shows, they rent out the stage to Cassandra and Misto, who alternate their acts, and a spare dressing room to Coricopat and Tantomile. The twins, Cass, and Misto all met in the circus, but split off because of mistreatment and nonpayment. Victoria joined Misto's act after failing to find work as a ballet dancer elsewhere, and the two now brand themselves as siblings. The group don't mean to take advantage of the siblings, but attendance is inconsistent, to say the least. Of course, Jelly and Gus Jr would never kick them out — they know their father would loathe to see the building closed even temporarily.

Skimbleshanks is a trolley driver. (I know this entry is comically short compared to the last one, but I imagine he'd just pop up occasionally throughout the story. Sometimes simpler is better.)

I really want to fit Algernonny (my OC) in here somewhere, but I haven't settled on anything yet. Maybe he drives a bookmobile??

Olivetti (my other OC) is a bit easier to place, since he'd be a reporter, but I'm not sure what effect he'd have on the story at large.

Some relationships (familial, platonic, and romantic) I want to emphasize:

None of Munk/Tugger/Mac are related, nor are any of them directly related to Old Deut. In my eyes, Macavity has always worked better as an entity lurking in the shadows than someone who is well-known and emotionally tied to the other characters.

Re: the Smitten Kitten bunch, I haven't untangled who I want them and Munk to end up with (or maybe they just all end up together?). There will definitely be some one-sided Platugger flirting because I can. (Algie/Alonzo is also a done deal, but that doesn't mean Alonzo doesn't get to participate here too.)

I haven't decided whether I go the Victeazer or Tantoteazer route yet. I'm leaning towards Mistojerrie though as a new thing for me.

Asparagus and Skimbleshanks will end up being a thing, because I can't get enough of them two <3

I haven't decided if I want Jenny to be Plato (etc.)'s mom. It would be easier to tie that household into the main goings-on that way, but also (if you couldn't tell) I'm trying to improvise on a lot of these characters and come up with new relations -- at least for the ones for whom I don't already have a ship I'm attached to.\

[mewguca]

Me when I self-insert so hard i accidentally take a one-off drawing and make it a whole au

haha i am back on my nonsense...

i guess the idea is basically. twin moons haha. diana is more like. the game version of moon but probably slightly different in some way idk i gotta work on them both...Luna is kinda just. slef insert beam go brrr but also kinda different i guess uh. different kinda strengths and weaknesses?

Diana is more "proper" and better versed in her iterator duties and the knowledge of the world around her. She's more outgoing and assertive and can even sometimes be a little bit sarcastic. She takes on a big sisterly role for the other iterators, checking in on them a lot. She is well-informed on politics and history and other topics that concern her duties, and she monitors the condition of the Regions around her. She tends to be more logical and rational, but that is not to say she is cold by any means. She is sort of the model of a "perfect" iterator, and she is praised as such. This gives her expectations to live up to, though, and she sometimes struggles under the pressure to live up to them.

Luna is less focused on her duties and more...spacey I guess? She's much more shy and reserved and is a bit more pessimistic and unconfident...but she enjoys creating things like drawing and singing and talking to the residents of their can(s) about their creations. She is less concerned about things like politics and history and more interested in looking at cute little creatures in the surrounding ecosystem, haha. She also has a bit of a mischievous side she lets show sometimes. She likes to make people laugh and maybe tease them a bit.

They're both very caring though, of course. They both share that aspect of Moon! They especially care about each other and enjoy spending time together...they also like to dote on their little brother FP. They are both highly regarded, if in somewhat different ways and for different reasons. Diana is revered for her academic and practical contributions, such as keeping the systems running smoothly. Luna is revered for her contributions to the culture and the arts in the cities atop her can. They serve important roles and are seen as inseparable.

Of course yknow theyre not perfect so they can be kinda envious of each other sometimes etc etc hehe...

I suppose my idea for their structures is connecting structures? They have a connecting chamber in the middle, and the combination of structures in general can be either connected or separated. Diana is technically the senior twin so she has the overall authority at the end of the day. They also still share some water with FP because they are still neighbors.

I am unsure what their chat acronyms should be...maybe copy the theme of moon's ingame one and do Big Sis Diana and Little Sis Luna? Though...then thatd be confusing talking to their little brother maybe haha. But having them use LTTMI and LTTMII does not seem...the most practical.

When it comes to ...yknow...I am unsure which direction I want to go in. Should I have them collapse together since it's less scary if they have each other?

or should I be evil and make one of them force their water onto the other so they can get help for the other twin...But then....they'd definitely be separated...and if one side collapses more than the other, I'm not sure how you'd get them back together. Much to think about!

I think it'd be cute to see them interact with monk and surv, though! the little scug siblings! just like them! and separated just like them if we go that route smiles diabolically

I do want them to be happy in the end of course! but yknow we can have a little suffering as a treat

I have much to flesh out...waahhhh the brainrot never ends I suppose

[dirtytransmasc]

hi, i love your blog so much <3

i was wondering if maybe you have any hc s for an AU where Jake and Neytiri didn't take the route they did in canon, and actually raised Spider as one of their own?

neytiri is definitely the hands on parent, she scooped the little thing up and said 'this is mine'. she was even possessive of the child with jake.

jake is a dad stereotype like he is the Military/Fishing Dad™. he's also the 'boys will be boys' type of dad, and that's his response to just about anything spider does. comes home cover in mud? boys will be boys. falls off a tree, gets up with 0 reaction, climbs back up the tree? boys will be boys. manhandles a vipewolf like a toddler manhandles a pet cat? boys will be boys. neytiri wants to scream.

spider would wear his hair much more natural (fluffy hair spider makes my heart soar) and neytiri loves to take care of it.

spider was a leash kid, he didn't get his name from no where, and he often climbed up places he shouldn't be, had a nack for falling asleep in ways on he could fit into, etc. so spider needs to be kept at an arms length or at least in active supervision.

neytiri is very adamant about keeping spider with the family at night, so she works with (scares) the scientists into developing a exopack that is easier and more comfortable for spider to use at night so he can sleep safely with his family at night.

jake takes spider on the ikran first. much to neytiri's dislike, but when he proves that a competent flyer can fly with the baby with ease, it becomes one of spider and neytiri's favorite past times.

jake made spider's first bows and he cried the entire time, like the biggest baby ever.

jake has a hard time watching spider and kiri bond, they remind him so much of himself and grace, and he tears up everytime.

neytiri is surprised just how connected to eywa spider gets, especially without tsaheylu, spider likes to sit at the spirit tree or with his grandmother. he likes to just connect and feel with The Great Mother. she fosters this bond, pushing spider to connect however he can; she will soon find out that eywa will always find a way to hold her children.

raising spider allowed neytiri to heal a deep seated trauma, to find a way to see humans for both their beauty and their destruction. raising spider allowed her to truly smile again.

neytiri calls him 'little sun' I can't find the na'vi word for sun or any adjacent word so use your imagination, so maybe something like fkew'hi'i'atan (mighty little light), cause of his hair and jake calls him "vrr'awpo" (wild one).

its spider fragility but need to do what his siblings do that make neytiri force jake to not make the boy's scouts. she won't let spider anywhere near the field, she can't lose him, she was very hesitant to let neteyam out despite passing his Iknimaya, but jake insisted, which meant lo'ak had to follow. but when spider starting showing determination to follow his brothers, she shut that down faster then jake could blink; her babies would not be put in danger.

spider is a mama's boy, and neytiri loves it, she loves her little bundle of light.

so sorry this took so long, adhd paralysis is a bitch and I'm still digging through all my old asks that piled up. also thank you so much, I'm so glad you like my blog.