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galadrieljones · 3 days ago

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Possession (Rook x Emmrich)

❤️ Dragon Age | Emmrook | Solavellan | one-shot | Mature ❤️

word count: 7,460 Summary: In the Lighthouse, Rook and Emmrich hunt through some of Solas's old records from his time with the Inquisition. What they find brings them closer together, as they embark on a romantic scavenger hunt through memories of the past.

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Possession

JOLENE MERCAR, also known as Rook, was stalemated outside the door of a certain generous and compassionate necromancer. It was late at night. Though time seemed to pass strangely here in the Fade, whenever she was inside the Lighthouse, she could always sort of tell what part of the day it was. Like an enchantment, or an illusion. She knocked on the door.

Emmrich answered. He was very tall, and when he saw her in all of her tiny elven glory, he smiled. He was genuinely surprised to see her, but seemingly very pleased. "Rook," he said. "What a nice surprise."

"Hello, Emmrich," she said, feeling a little stupid. She had her hands behind her back, rocking back on her heels as she spoke. "I was just...popping by. I discovered something, here in the Lighthouse, a hidden room. It belonged to Solas. It's filled with a bunch of notebooks. Diaries and things. Records, lots of them dated back to when he was in the Inquisition. I was going to go through them on my own, see if we could learn anything, but I suddenly felt the urge for company. I thought you might find it all interesting, as an expert on the Fade. You know, like he is."

Emmrich considered. Rook had long, dark hair, which she sometimes wore in a loose braid over her shoulder, but that night, it just fell to the small of her back, like a curtain. Her eyes were light as candles, and he liked her. Something about her forward nature truly intrigued him, and though he did not entirely understand what she might see in him, she came by often, looking for wisdom. She was young, and he could tell that she felt...out of place in all this. In any case, she had never come to him so late at night before. This was new. The promise of what lie ahead, it was very tempting, despite his prevailing sense of discipline and stoicism. He said to her, "I believe I would find that interesting. Thank you, Rook, for thinking of me. Please, come in. Just let me grab some things, and let's be on our way."

As she stood there, demurely, taking stock of Emmrich's vast and detailed inventory, the books and the skulls and the bizarre crystals, she felt excited, happy for the first time since all this began. It was a pretty picture, this place, so strange and haunted, and yet the whimsy, it was like wrapping herself in a warm scarf. Rook was not a mage, and she had not grown up with such displays of magical possibility. Magic was utilitarian where she was from, or else it was devious. But Emmrich, in all of his sparkling oddity, could make even the littlest, most mundane things feel new and awake. Rook often tried to remind herself that, no matter how bad things get, it's the little things in life that truly set you free.

In the music room, Emmrich was delighted by the presence of a piano in the Lighthouse. He honed through a couple of chords, but it sounded like the gloomier depths of the Necropolis. "It's woefully out of tune," he said. "I can come back in the morning, perhaps, make it sing once more."

"You play the piano?" said Rook, feeling wistful. She had picked the lid up off a wooden box, which she had stacked earlier near the high window. Light seemed to flood in, even though it was after ten.

"My skills are a bit lapsed," said Emmrich. "But I trained for many years in my youth. Music is a language all its own. I've found that certain spirits communicate more readily through the wonders of melody."

"Perhaps that's why Solas plays?"

He smiled. "Perhaps."

Rook sat down on a dusty old hope chest. It seemed made of both wood and gold at the same time, and this weirdness with textiles was something that Solas seemed drawn to. Metals that looked like wood, woods that looked like metal. She watched the little particles floating around in the bars of light from the window as she gathered a stack of leather bound notebooks. There were many books and records and things that looked sort of official, like things you might need at some sort of tribunal, but these ones were filled, front to back with what seemed like poetry, math, journal entries, all in Solas's handwriting. It was elegant but rushed. "Some of these notebooks are just filled with what look like complicated arithmetic."

"May I?" said Emmrich. He pulled up the bench from the piano, sat beside Rook at the window. Rook handed him a notebook. He studied the markings, which were strange, but some oddly familiar. "As the maker of the Veil, it would make sense for Solas to be adept at theoretical and applied physics. Some of these formulas are familiar to me and my studies. Others are...well. They are like nothing I've ever seen before."

"He doodles a lot. See?" She showed him the pages of another notebook. This one was more of a sketchbook, she gathered. There were a great many drawings. Mostly faces and animals, sketched out in pencil, loose with an absentminded touch. "This one is cute. Look. A nug."

"That is very amusing."

"If we don't find anything good here, we can always go back to the office," she said. "It's through the door, but it's sort of gloomy. I just brought some of the boxes out here so that we could sit in the light."

"Yes, the light," said Emmrich, studying the windows. "I wonder if the enchantment lives inside, outside, or in the glass itself?"

"In any case, it's pretty," said Rook.

"I agree."

She showed him another sketch, this one more detailed than the others. "Look at this one. Do you recognize this place?"

It was a castle, or a fortress, misty, and planted deep in a glorious mountain scape. Emmrich studied it closely. He did recognize it, but he was having a difficult time placing it in his memory. "It says right here, Terasylan'Telas. Do you speak elven, Rook?"

"Nope," she said. "My knowledge ends at Andaran Atishan. Mostly."

"Hmm. You know, now that I think of it, I believe this might be Skyhold," he said.

"Skyhold?"

"The legendary fortress of the Inquisition. It's located somewhere in the Frostback Mountain range, which forms the natural border between the southern Kingdoms of Ferelden and Orlais."

"Ferelden and Orlais," said Rook. "Geez. That's far. Have you ever been?"

"Never," he said. "Until I met you, I never once left Nevarra. Now, here I am, living in an ancient elven sanctuary in the Fade. Such intrigue you bring to my life, Rook."

She blushed a little, or perhaps it was just a trick of the light. "He seems attached to this place," said Rook, turning the pages of the notebook, slowly. There were several more sketches of the castle, from multiple angles, the insides and outsides. "He seems to know it well."

"Who is this?" said Emmrich. He pointed to a figure, sketched out in the doorway to what appeared to be some sort of rotunda. The form was female, somewhat tall, created with great care, but it was unfinished.

"Who knows," said Rook. "A mystery woman? After this, it's just tons and tons of butterfly sketches. All kinds of them. Guess he's a fan of bugs."

"Let's delegate a little," he said. "Hand me one of those notebooks, if you please."

She obliged. He straightened up and opened the notebook in his lap. "You continue with the sketchbook, and I will investigate this here."

"What is that one?"

"It looks to be some sort of diary," said Emmrich. "Entries, with dates from twelve years back. I'll let you know if I find anything of interest."

"Same here."

They sat for a while, reading. At some point, Rook got antsy and scooched off the hope chest to sit on the floor. She flipped through the pages of the sketchbook, taken with the minute and lovely details of Solas's drawings. After the butterflies, the pages began to fill with the shapes of people, actual people with detailed, unique faces and expressions, which led Rook to believe that they were real. His friends, perhaps? There was a study of a young man with an enormous hat, a tall elven woman with short hair eating a cookie, a human shield maiden reading a book beneath a tree, and a great, Qunari warrior playing chess. At some point, she came across somebody familiar, but the hair had changed. She recognized him from Minrathous. It was Dorian Pavus, holding a skull near a candle. This awakened something strange inside her, like an eclipse. Late in the book, there was a sketch of Varric, situated from the side. He was holding a flagon, sitting in a tavern somewhere, and he looked pensive. Rook almost said something to Emmrich about it, but she kept it inside. She wasn't sure why. It just felt like opening a can of big, fat worms, which she wasn't ready to open yet.

But then. "Very interesting," said Emmrich. "Very interesting indeed."

"Did you find something?"

"I'm not entirely sure," said Emmrich. "There's a fair bit of elven in here, which I do not understand. But not all of it. This, here, it is written mostly in the common language. It appears to be a prose poem? A ballad of some sort."

"What's it about?"

"Well, as it is a ballad, which means it is about love."

"A love poem? By the Dread Wolf?"

"Come here, Rook. Have a look at this."

She got up from the hardwood floor and went and sat down next to Emmrich on the piano bench. He was big beside her, and she was temporarily taken by his scent. Like rosemary, subtle. His clothing was simple tonight, she thought, unadorned. Just a cream collared shirt, seemed made of cotton, very soft, well-tailored, and expensive. He opened the notebook between them, so that she could follow along. "Listen," he said. He pointed to the page in question and read aloud, solemnly and with great care. As he spoke, with such a soft gravitas, the world around her seemed to change:

Light gathers on the sea, where we sit on the pier. It approaches and folds beside you like an envelope. I do not know how it folds, but it seems to anyway. It disregards me entirely. On this day in Val Royeaux, as we watch the seamen mooring their ships, you whisper, "What is that, vhenan?" You speak of a white bird, which has landed on a barrel. "Some sort of egret," I say. I can tell that you already knew that. You just like to ask questions, and you think it's funny. The word "egret," you say, sounds funny in my mouth. The light finds you here. It finds your eyes here. It disregards me entirely, The light. I could not have made it any more beautiful myself. It has a mind of its own as it touches you. And you find me, ara avise'ain.

The room was silent, but for the tense ticking of a clock somewhere.

"What a wonderful, if not monumental relic," said Emmrich, his heart stayed. "I am taken aback by this. I should like to read it again and again. What do you think, Rook?"

Rook shook herself out of a deep but ethereal trance then. It felt like something was wrong with her. She realized right then that she had leaned in a little close, the whole time he'd been reading. Her cheek, it brushed against the soft fabric at his shoulder. He did not seem bothered. He seemed very comfortable there beside her.

"I think..." she said, trailing off. "I think...it's just...so erotic."

This seemed to intrigue him greatly. "Erotic?" he said. "Quite the interpretation, Rook. You speak of his use of light, perhaps?"

"Yeah," she said. "How it's always folding and...touching the water, touching her. The mention, too, of the word egret, and how it sounds in his mouth. It just calls to mind their...intimacy. Something was going on here."

"Very good," said Emmrich. "I do agree. It seems that perhaps the Dread Wolf may have taken a secret lover during his time with Inquisition."

"Perhaps the woman that he drew? The one in the doorway of the rotunda?"

"Perhaps."

"Ara avise'ain," she said. "Are there any other uses of this word?"

"Hmm," said Emmrich. He flipped forward a few pages. There was a great deal of elven here. It was sort of like fishing for diamonds through a deft and elegant swamp. But he caught on something, quickly, then studied. He gave her the notebook. "Here. Read this, Rook."

She stared at the poem. She tried to concentrate, but then, she felt him nudge her gently in the shoulder with his own.

She sort of jumped. "What's wrong?"

"Read it aloud, if you please," he said, softly. "I'd like to hear it in your voice. It is so much more meaningful that way."

"Oh," she said. "Sure. Here goes." She cleared her throat.

I knocked, wondering if you had forgotten. You had not. You were braiding your hair. You said, "I was worried." Vhenan, who worries. Sometimes I feel like a star, which has already died. You say to me, "Sleep here." You invite me inside. Where it is safe. A nest. Maybe here? You bring me in with both hands. I take off your dress. Why can't I go home, avise'ain? Where the candles flicker to death, withholding, and there are only teeth.

"Shit," said Rook.

"I echo the sentiment," said Emmrich.

"This is really...wow. I wasn't expecting this," she said. "Only teeth? Fuck."

"I am concerned about the metaphor," said Emmrich. "It does not bode well for the Dread Wolf."

"I wish I knew what that word meant," she said. " Avise'ain. I know what vhenan means. It's like, an elven term of endearment. It means my heart. Or something."

"I wonder if, perhaps, Bellara, or Davrin could help us with the elven."

"That's a good idea," she said. "But Bellara's asleep. She was up late last night, tweaking the eluvian. Told me she wanted to turn in early."

"Then Davrin it is," said Emmrich. They set off.

When they found Davrin, he was lying flat on his back, on the hardwood floor, staring up at the ceiling while Assan, confused, licked his palm.

"Davrin?"

"Hello, Rook."

"What the hell are you doing on the floor?"

He turned his head to see them. They stood just inside the entryway. There were stacks of old books on the table, the wooden carvings lined up. Davrin kept a very nice space. He was neat and discerning, but he was not a minimalist.

"Emmrich?" he said. It was like a light turning on. "Wait. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is just fine," reassured Emmrich. "But, we are wondering the same of you. Are you often taken with lying on the floor, Davrin?"

"Not at all," said Davrin. He got to his feet, slowly, like he was drunk. He wasn't drunk. He was just...exhausted? "Assan won't sleep. I thought, maybe if I lie here on the floor, he'd doze off next to me. But. No dice."

"Aw, poor Assan," said Rook, patting the sweet creature on his feathered head.

"Poor Assan?" said Davrin. "How about poor me?"

"Poor you," said Rook.

He smiled. Assan squawked. "What are you guys doing here? Isn't it kind of late?"

"A little," said Rook.

"We require your assistance with the elven language. How are you with translation, Davrin?"

"Pretty good," he said. "What's going on?"

"We found some of Solas's old records, in a secret room, next to the library," Emmrich continued. "They are from his time with the Inquisition. It's quite interesting. A good deal of it is written in elven, however, and neither Rook nor I speak the language."

"Solas is an ancient elf," said Davrin. "I never really learned that dialect. I know a little, but it's rare."

"Can you try?" said Rook.

Davrin sighed. He scratched at the back of his head and then plopped down into the armchair by the fire. "Have a seat," he said. "Let me see."

Emmrich handed Davrin the open notebook, the one with the poetry, and then he and Rook sat down on the floor, like children. Assan watched the whole interaction, rapt and wide awake as Davrin took to studying the elven.

"These poems here are written in the common tongue," said Emmrich. "But there is an elven word used multiple times. Avise'ain. It perplexes us."

"Can you tell us what it means?" said Rook.

"Holy shit," said Davrin, reading the poem about the pier, and the egret. He read it multiple times. Then he looked at Rook, his face screwed up like he'd seen a ghost. "Do you know who he wrote this for?"

"No, we don't," said Rook.

He made a low whistle. "This shit is deep."

"What does it mean?" said Rook, urging him back to the task at hand. " Avise'ain?"

"Right," said Davrin. "Well, this word isn't something I've seen before. But it's not ancient elven. It's contemporary. See this? The suffix, -ain , is a diminutive. It means little, or petite. Avise is a form of the word ise, which means fire. Avise means flame. Avise'ain means—"

"Little flame," said Rook. "Like, a pet name maybe?"

"That's exactly what it is," said Davrin. "And see this here? Here, he uses the possessive, ara, which means my. My little flame. Whoever this was, they were definitely...well, I think you know."

"I believe the correct term is intimate, Davrin. No need to be coy."

Davrin almost started laughing. "Touche. Does seem a little strange though, speculating about the sex life of an ancient elven god."

"Solas didn't present himself as a god to the Inquisition," said Rook. "He didn't even tell them he was an ancient elf. According to Varric, he just presented as an apostate. He said he was a fade mage, same as you, Emmrich."

"That inspires my curiosity, to be sure," he said.

Davrin flipped through the book some more, studying the handwriting. "All this other stuff is ancient," said Davrin. "Except for this one word, avise'ain, which is in common elven. Why?"

"Perhaps the woman to whom he assigned his pet name is not an ancient elf," said Emmrich. "If she doesn't speak the dialect, it would make little sense for him to use it."

"So she's a regular elf? Or...a new elf? Like me and Davrin?" said Rook.

"Yes, and it's also likely that she speaks the common dialect."

"So, she's Dalish," said Davrin.

"Are you sure you can't read any of this other stuff?" said Rook. "These poems and entries. You can't read the ancient elven? Even a little?"

Davrin squinted at the pages in deep concentration, which seemed to lure Assan closer to his side. He sidled up to Davrin's chair and placed his head in his lap. Davrin stroked the beast's neck absentmindedly, a darling display. "Hmm," he said.

"Hmm?" said Rook.

"I can't translate this word for word," he said. "That's for sure. I just don't know the vocabulary. But elven, it's more than just a language. It's like a feeling. If you're an elf, that is. Especially this old stuff. Shit, it's a little like music. Rook, even though you don't know how to speak it, I bet if you read this, and you focused really hard, like really hard, you would understand what I'm talking about."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"You can sense the story," he said. "Solas, in his words, is telling a story. I can see it in my mind's eye, like...ancestral memory."

"I don't know how I feel about sharing ancestral memories with Solas," said Rook.

"Well, I think we do. Whether we like it or not." He handed her the book. "Here. Just take a look."

She looked at Davrin, a little apprehensive. She had never been very elfy. Sort of like self-preservation in Tevinter. In fact, in her quotidian life, before all this, it was typical for her to simply forget what she was half the time. When it struck her, and she remembered, it was always in these horrible moments of existential unease. On the street corners. On the docks. She had considered leaving Minrathous thousands of times before her twenty-fifth birthday, for thousands of reasons. But she never had anywhere to go. Until now, of course.

Suddenly she felt Emmrich's hand, big and soft on her shoulder. He squeezed once, then lowered his mouth, close to her ear. He said, "You can do it, Rook. I believe in you. Just give it a whirl."

She felt very hot all of a sudden, in her cheeks, and it zinged straight back to her eartips. But still, it was comforting. He was such a comforting presence, calming all her stupid bullshit with one single, casual touch. She said, "Okay. I'll try."

She picked up the book. The words made little sense. As Davrin had said, even for elven, it was out of whack, bizarrely tuned, as if invented on the spot. But then, after a moment, she felt a kind of warm, snowy sensation in the back of her brain. It was like fuzz, and then it spread, and it came into focus. Like a crystal. It spun there, at the center of her brain. She looked up at Emmrich, and she said, "I felt something."

"Wonderful," said Emmrich. "What did you feel?"

"This is a story," she said, tapping her finger to the words. "It's about rooftops, am I right?" She looked to Davrin.

"Yes," he said. "Rooftops, mountains. Her hair, like, it's everywhere, right? Did you get that?"

"I did. Maybe that means it's windy?"

"Good call. Also, there's a tear in the sky. He compares it to an eye, watching them. Like they're never alone. But he wants her. Bad. He wants to be free, to be with her."

"Emmrich," said Rook, serious now.

"Yes? I must say. This is quite entertaining, you two."

"You've read the Inquisition folklore. Are you sure you never saw any references to a romance?"

"I have only read the canonical texts," he said, "which, beyond names and basic formalities, in no way addresses any interpersonal aspect of the people involved. So, no."

"You should go talk to Harding," said Davrin. "She was in the Inquisition. She might know."

"Oh my gosh," said Rook. "You're right."

"You're also in luck," said Emmrich, voice low, his hands clasped in front of him, very debonair. He nodded toward Assan, who had fallen asleep, his head heavy in Davrin's lap, very still, eyes closed, breathing even. "It seems our discussion of ancient elven poetry lulled your young griffon here right to sleep."

Davrin surveyed the situation, dropped his head back and blinked up at the ceiling. "Guess I should get comfortable."

"We'll see you in the morning," said Rook, very eager. Emmrich had got to his feet first, extended a hand to her. She took it, stood tall, and dusted herself off. "Thank you for your help, Davrin. That was...interesting."

"Any time," he said.

As they crossed the great courtyard in the middle of the night, they both looked up to the deep, dark Fade sky at the same exact time. There was a shooting star, or, that's what it looked like. It was big and molten, like a long column of light which then simply disappeared from existence. This dazzled Rook, but it also unnerved her. She had never really been outside before when the Lighthouse went dark. She'd had no idea that there were stars here.

"This place shall never cease to amaze me," said Emmrich, in wonderment. "Stars and night. The chattering sounds of inexplicable nature. We are floating on a cloud, it seems, and yet, there are butterflies and opossums. I can sense them in the underbrush. Solas made this place comfortable many years ago. He wanted his people to feel at home here."

"When we first arrived," said Rook, "the place was falling apart. I think Solas was living here, before the ritual, but it feels like there are parts of the castle he never went to, like he lived in two, maybe three of the rooms tops. Everywhere else, he just left it sealed away. Like a tomb."

"The bachelor pad of a god is sad indeed," said Emmrich. "Particularly if he is on the wrong side of love. Let us continue our scavenger hunt, Rook. I am enjoying this evening immensely. Thank you for asking me to accompany you on your search tonight."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling like an idiot. He held out his arm to her then, an unexpected gesture, but she took it anyway. Even though she was not afraid of the dark, she was hesitant, walking through the Fade like this. She was not used to such big, cold, and cosmic magic.

Emmrich sensed this, as he so often did. "Do not fear this place, dear Rook," he said. "Allow it to become familiar, and it will embrace you, as a home."

They started toward Harding's. They could see the light from her lantern, a long, golden bar at the bottom of the door. "Is that what you do?" said Rook.

"Yes, it is," he said. "Like a scent on the breeze. I will not forget it for all my years."

When they got to Harding's door, it was like she had seen them coming. She stayed up late.

"Rook?" she said. "Is that you?"

"It is," she said. "It's me, and Emmrich. Are you decent?"

"Sure am," said Lace. She opened the door, seeming delighted. She was wearing red pajamas with her hair in a braid and holding a cup of tea. "What brings you two around so late at night?"

Emmrich smiled, his face going a little crinkly. "We won't take up much of your time, Lace. We just have a few questions for you, concerning your time in the Inquisition. May we come in?"

"Definitely," she said, holding the door wide open and standing back to give them room. As she shut the door behind them, Rook noticed the remnants of some sort of art project. There were what appeared to be curtains, draped over a table, and several spools of colorful thread. Harding seemed to be practicing her embroidery.

"I love the curtains," said Rook.

"Oh, thank you. I'm just trying to make this place feel a little more like home. You know?"

Emmrich glanced at Rook, very knowing.

"So," said Lace. "You guys wanna talk about the Inquisition? What did you wanna know?"

"We have been scouring some of Solas's old records," said Emmrich. "Rook found a secret room inside, near the library. It's full of old notebooks and things. Much of it dated back to Solas's time with the Inquisition."

"Interesting," said Harding. "Find anything good?"

"Yes," said Rook, a little anxious. "We found love poems."

"Love poems?" said Harding, sort of giggling. "Really? Wow. I mean, I knew Solas was an artist, but a writer, too? Wow."

"Wow, indeed," said Emmrich. "We came here tonight to ask whether you know anything about a woman that Solas might have been seeing at the time. Someone in the Inquisition, perhaps? She was likely a Dalish elf."

There was a long pause then, in which Lace stared at them both as if she thought they might be on drugs. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, we aren't," said Rook. "The stuff he wrote. It was really...passionate. Do you know anything about it?"

"Uh, yeah. I do," said Lace.

"Really?" said Emmrich. "Who was it? The woman, we mean?"

"Inquisitor Lavellan."

It was like a boulder, falling off a cliff.

"The Inquisitor?" said Rook.

"Oh, my dear," said Emmrich. "This is a surprise."

Lace shrugged, like it was just any other factoid. "I'm surprised you guys don't know. I guess I just assumed that everybody did. It was all over the tabloids, at least down south. People can't get enough of that shit. Sene's love life has been under scrutiny for years. It really pisses her off, but I mean, what can you do? Idle minds, am I right?"

Rook opened the notebook, which she'd had tucked under her arm. She showed Lace the poems. She said, "He loved her. A lot. We're pretty sure that everything in here, at least in this notebook, is all about her. It's full of poems and stories. What happened between them?"

"Solas and Sene were crazy in love," said Lace, sipping her tea, reminiscing. "Like I said, it was no secret. They were great together. Inseparable. They used to have picnics on the battlements at Skyhold, talk for hours on the rooftops at Haven. He would braid her hair before they went out into the field. It was just...romantic. I used to talk to them all the time, when we would deploy to different regions, trying to bring people and their factions into the Inquisition. She would sit and watch him paint his frescoes, and he made her these butterflies out of his magic, like little presents. Hundreds of them, green and glowy, all the time. Everywhere. They would just fly around the rotunda, and the garden, like part of the decor. It was so dreamy and romantic."

"Green, glowy butterflies?" said Rook. "There's a bunch of them here, flitting about in the bushes. I've seen tons of them, flying around the Crossroads, too."

"Yup," said Lace. "Those are them. I'm not surprised that she's left her mark here. The way Solas looked at her, it was so...intense. I thought he was gonna ask her to marry him. It was really serious. And, like I said, everybody knew. They were just...Sene and Solas. Solas and Sene. The tabloids used to refer to Sene as the Tall Red Elf and Solas as the Tall Elven Warrior at her Side. Anyway, be careful, Rook. This is...kind of a long story, and Sene is a close friend of mine. She practically lived at my house for like a year once, down in the Hinterlands. I'll tell you stuff, but like, keep it clean. I'm not getting into the weeds here, okay?"

Rook fell silent. She did not really know much about Inquisitor Lavellan, or the Inquisition at all. It was not a common topic of discussion in Tevinter. And yet, even still, she was a bit of a celebrity, mainly with the Chantry, as the Herald of Andraste. They talked about her all the time in the holy newsletters and things like that. Debates over whether her claims to prophesy were legitimate, or whether she even believed them herself, seeing as she was an elf. Rook knew that she was Dalish, but she hadn't really put it together, until now.

"We promise to be civilized in our questioning," said Emmrich, taking over. "We will of course respect your loyalties to Inquisitor Lavellan. But please forgive me, as I must ask. You make it sound like he was over the moon for her, and yet, you said he left? Why?"

"At the time," she said, "Sene didn't know. None of us did. Nobody knew that he was the Dread Wolf. We just thought he was some really powerful apostate. After we killed Corypheus, he just...left. She was devastated, but at some point, she moved on. Or, she tried to. She was in another pretty serious relationship when Solas finally showed himself again two years later, during the Exalted Council in Halamshiral. He explained everything, that he was the Dread Wolf, that he wanted to bring down the Veil, that he still loved her, but that he had to go, and he would not take her with him. That was important. Anyway, based on what Sene told me, I think he originally intended to just use the Inquisition, like a pawn, to help him further his plans. But it didn't go so hot. He accidentally fell in love. He made friends, too. Kind of a huge, fantastic failure...I guess."

"So it was after the Exalted Council," said Rook. "That's when they last saw each other?

"In person, yeah," said Lace.

"What do you mean in person?" said Emmrich.

"Solas is a dreamer," said Lace, taken with the thought. "Rook knows. He can walk in peoples' dreams. As far as I know, he's visited her, quite a lot, over the past ten years. Where they stood at any given time, it was sort of on and off, but it was consistent, to some degree."

"Does he still love her?" said Emmrich, seeming desperately curious. Too tall, he was nearly hunched in half, trying to lean into their conversation.

"Probably," said Lace, her voice soft all of a sudden. She became wistful. She looked away, toward the window. "They were special. They meant everything to one another. It was the kind of love that you aspire to, you know? And I mean, she still loves him. That, I know for sure. Sene went through a couple different men, trying to move on. But despite both of them being great guys, neither of them stuck, not like he did."

"Which men?"

Lace sighed, setting down her mug on the table next to the curtains. "This is where I call it a night. I'm not getting into all that. You're gonna have to read about it in the tabloids like everyone else."

Emmrich seemed to be thinking about this in a practical manner. "We can probably find them in the Magisterial Library of Minrathous. I'm sure they keep records of every tabloid and newspaper in Thedas, going back at least 100 years."

"Or, you know," said Lace. "I guess you could just ask Inquisitor Lavellan, herself. I'm sure you'll meet her. Soon."

"I will?" said Rook.

Lace shrugged again. She was doing that a lot. Like it was all just old hat to her. "Sene is close to Morrigan," she said. "And she also has Lady Nightingale, the best Spymaster in all of Thedas. I guarantee that she knows all about this by now, everything that's happened. And she'll also know, too, that you're the one leading the charge here, Rook. She'll know that Solas is trapped in the Fade, and that you're the only one who can talk to him. So, of course, she's gonna wanna meet you. Probably soon. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if, when you go to meet Morrigan at the Cobbled Swan in a couple days, she'll be there, too. Then again, who knows? She's got her hands full. Given everything my ma said in her last letter, the south is...under siege. There's a bad fight there, and lots of Blight. All hands on deck." Harding looked down into her tea, pensive, and then she looked at the floor. "I'm okay," she said, to no one.

"Is your mother safe?" said Emmrich, placing his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, like she was terribly relieved that he asked.

"I think so," she said. "She went to Skyhold, with a lot of other people. I'm pretty sure that's where Sene is. Or, she goes back and forth a lot, with her Commander. Cullen. It's become like, a sanctuary. Like what this place used to be."

"Harding," said Rook. "I'm sorry. I didn't...I should have asked you about this earlier."

"It's okay, Rook," she said, smiling once more. "I get it. We have our hands full up here, too."

Emmrich straightened up then, and something about his massive height seemed to change the atmosphere. He seemed to know it, too. He clasped his hands behind his back and said, "Well, we should take our leave. Thank you, Lace. This has been most educational."

"Now that you know," she said to Rook, "what will you do? Are you gonna mention it, next time you see Solas?"

Rook thought about it. She could not picture it. Whenever she thought about him, about Solas, her mind twisted into a riddle, and she could no longer tell what was real. She had only ever seen him from far away, up on a huge pedestal, or in the Fade, where everything was grim, and he was removed from her grasp, as cold and hard as steel. He was a total stranger, and yet, she relied on him. In this moment, she felt hugely young, raw, spilled open, her guts all over the floor. She did not want to hurt the Dread Wolf. He was like a music box, rusted shut, and there was just something so strange about it. So pretty, this idea that he held inside of him this intense history. Love, sex, all the things that made him a man and not a god. "I don't know," she said to Harding. "I need to think on it."

"Well, goodnight," said Lace. "See you in the morning. Lucanis is making breakfast so, don't miss it."

Outside, Rook and Emmrich stood at the center of the midnight courtyard and stared up at the enormous idol of Fen'Harel. Oddly now, standing here in front of this enormous statue, her thoughts turned away from Solas and instead settled with the man by her side. It was so strange, she thought. From the very first day she met him, he disarmed her. He took her guard completely down, and he told her to light brassieres and they fought demons, and they were talking to spirits. She said hello to a little wisp, and it had made her heart beat strangely. He told her he had never been out of Nevarra, and he seemed starved for adventure, and yet, it had been him who'd swept her off her feet, took her on a grand field trip through the Necropolis, this well of magic, everywhere, all the time, living and breathing with a mind of its own. He had opened her eyes that day.

He was older, but she didn't much care. He did not treat her like a child. Sometimes, he did treat her like a student. But he did that to everyone, and in any case, it was never condescending. It's just who he was. The professor. He was not steel, nor was he even terribly guarded. He did not give in to her easily though, that was for sure. He moved slowly, deliberately, all those times she would go to talk to him, ask him questions about what he thought about all of this, about the Veil. He kept his distance until it really mattered, as if every choice he made would determine who they were, together, and in this, she knew that she could trust him.

"What do you think of all this, Rook?" he said then, smiling at her. "Have your opinions of Solas changed in any way?"

"A little," she said. "I need to sleep on it. I just...I realize that I don't know him at all. He barely even seems like a person sometimes, let alone a man who could...well, you know."

Emmrich held out his hand then, and from his palm, he snapped a little wisp, white and pure. It buzzed around her nose and landed in her hair like a bug, and she laughed. "Do you like it?" he said, very debonair.

"Yes," she said.

"You know, Inquisitor Lavellan is not a mage either," he said, growing pensive, his brow furrowed. "She was at the Conclave, sent as a representative for her clan, which, as I recall, is fairly important in the Free Marches. They own a great deal of land there. Even still, she was one lowly elf among an entire Chantry. She was certainly judged, and certainly alone. There are records, which state that, after the explosion at the temple, which resulted in the death of Divine Justinia, the Seekers of Truth wanted to arrest her for apostasy, for treason, for murder. You name it. She was ostracized far before she was ever beloved. And she was young when the Inquisition began, only twenty, if I recall from the literature, and the Chantry experts distrusted her immensely, even after she was named Inquisitor. Many were especially critical of her as the prophetic Herald of Andraste . But others believed, and among them, I imagine, Solas. He followed her. He loved her. Just like with this place, he desired to warm her heart, to make her feel comfortable, at home in an icy, mean, judgmental landscape. Perhaps because he understood what that meant? To be so ostracized, so fantastically alone. Part of that was the butterflies, I imagine, and that is why they linger still. That little wisp I just conjured up, you said you like it. Does it bring you warmth, Rook? Joy?"

Rook held it in her hand now, like a little poof of cool, calm energy. It seemed to vibrate with admiration, glowing up at her, like it was alive. "It does," she said. She set it free then, and it disappeared. "Thank you, Emmrich."

"Whatever the Dread Wolf is or isn't," he went on, "I think it is clear by now that he is, ultimately, just a man. He has desires, needs, and she fulfilled them, as he fulfilled hers. These were needs that had either not been fulfilled before, or not in some time. She thawed his heart, and he kept her safe, and they found a home in one another. Even if it was short-lived, it is more than most will possess in their lifetimes."

Rook felt impulsive then. She could hear the words that he was saying, and she knew that he was right, but she was lost in the feeling and the sound. She wanted to express herself. She wasn't shiny or particularly eloquent like he was. Definitely not a poet. She didn't have beautiful things to say or magical creatures she could conjure into the air. But she did have action. She had always been good at just...doing things. No fear. She slid her hand into his then. He looked down right away, at their fingers mingled together, like he was startled, and then he looked at her, laid bare.

She said, "Is it okay? I don't know what to say. I just...I want to show you how I feel."

He was very soft then, his eyes dark and filled with a hidden sadness, which tempted her. What was it? Where did it live? What did it see? He picked up her hand, and he closed his eyes and brought her knuckles to his lips. It disarmed her and made her weak, and she sort of shivered. Their eyes met. He said, quietly, "Language can be superfluous in times like these, dear Rook. But, please, know that I feel it, too."

So, she kissed him, in front of the Dread Wolf statue at midnight, in the Fade. She had to stand on her tallest tiptoes to do it. At first, just like with the handhold, he was taken aback, but he quickly molded to her, his other hand on her jaw, as he touched her ear with tenderness. It was not devouring. It was pure. Tallest mage, so full of compassion. He seemed to unlock for her that night, a click and release.

Rook did not have much to hide. She didn't understand people who did. But she could try. That night, Emmrich walked her back to her room, and they shared one more kiss before parting until morning. She sat down on the couch in the blue, aqueous light of her quarters, vibrating and giddy, and watched the fish do their little immortal dancing. She thought about Inquisitor Lavellan, twenty years old, a Dalish elf in the Chantry, and how lonely that must have felt for her. How scary, how out of place she was and the deep, impending desire to return to the home that she knew, somehow, she would never really see again. Not as it once was, as a child. But then, there was a man who came along and made it feel okay to just be alive, no matter how you did it, or how new you were to the world. A man who seemed to know everything, who could stand so tall, and yet, who nursed inside of him a heart so true that it could not be contained. And so they were consumed by possession, discovery, desire.

*This story, though it stands alone, is also a part of my Solavellan fic Riptide.

#emmrook #emmrich x rook #emmrich volkarin #dragon age rook #solavellan #solas #sene lavellan #emmrook fanfic #datv #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age inquisition #dragon age

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monkishes · 1 day ago

Text

Friendly Fire | 02

genre: jungkookxreader, jiminxreader, college!au, best friend!au

summary: You and Jungkook had been friends for quite some time, and it seemed like everyone around you could sense the spark between you. They noticed the playful banter and affectionate gazes he directed your way. However, you were completely oblivious to it all, thinking that your relationship with Jungkook was purely platonic. Little did you know, things were about to get complicated. Enter Jimin, who developed a crush on you. This unexpected turn of events stirred up some jealousy in Jungkook. What will happen next?

word count: 6518

warnings: lots of jealousy, jk is oblivious to his feelings but very flirtatious, can’t keep his hands to himself, exams😖, oc has a fear of failing, strict parents

authors notes: okay this took me foreverrrrr and i really need to start writing the other fics but im just so excited for this one.. hope y’all enjoyyyyyy. this was unedited and kind of rushed so ignore any errors, i hate skl so much its taking up most of my time sorry guys

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Jungkook drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he watched you disappear into your apartment. He let out a long sigh, shifting in his seat. Something about the whole night had left him feeling off. It wasn't that he liked you—he didn't. You were just Y/N, his friend. But still, the thought of you getting all flustered around Jimin, of Jimin flirting with you, had irritated him more than he'd expected.

He turned the key in the ignition, the quiet hum of the engine filling the car as he pulled away from your building and headed toward his place. His mind kept drifting back to the way Jimin had teased him, how he'd made it seem like Jungkook had some claim over you. That wasn't it. He didn't care if you dated someone, it wasn't his business. But someone like Jimin? One of his closest friends? That was a different story.

Jungkook wasn't protective over you in the romantic sense, but there was a boundary there, unspoken but important. He didn't want his friends getting involved with you. It wasn't jealousy—it was more like... discomfort. He would never get involved with any of your friends. He knew Jimin could be flirty, and the last thing Jungkook wanted was for things to get messy between you and his circle.

As he drove through the quiet streets, the city lights flickering past, he tried to shake off the feeling. You'd probably think he was being ridiculous if you knew how much he'd overthought the whole thing. But you were his friend—he just wanted to make sure you weren't getting mixed up in something that would hurt you later.

By the time he pulled up in front of his apartment, the tension in his chest had eased slightly. He parked, leaned back in his seat for a moment, and stared out at the dimly lit street. His phone buzzed in the center console, and he picked it up, glancing at the screen.

Jimin.

Jungkook rolled his eyes but smirked a little, knowing exactly what the call was going to be about. He hit answer and put the phone on speaker as he stepped out of the car.

"Hey, man," Jimin's voice came through, casual but with that familiar teasing edge. "Did you drop off our girl safely?"

Jungkook kicked the door shut and walked toward his building, shaking his head. "She's not our girl. And yeah, I did."

There was a pause, then a laugh from Jimin's side. "Come on, don't tell me you're still pissed about earlier. I was just messing around."

Jungkook sighed as he unlocked his apartment door and stepped inside, flicking on the lights. "I'm not pissed. Just—" He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want you messing with her."

"Messing with her?" Jimin repeated, sounding amused. "Dude, I wasn't even serious. Y/N's cool, but I know you're protective of her."

"I'm not protective," Jungkook said quickly, dropping his keys onto the kitchen counter. "It's just... she's my friend. I don't want her getting involved with any of you guys and then having things go south."

Jimin chuckled, clearly not taking it as seriously as Jungkook. "Man, you're making it sound like I'm planning to date her or something. I was just having a little fun."

Jungkook frowned, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, well, I don't want her to get the wrong idea. She doesn't know you like I do. You flirt with everyone, and she might take it seriously."

There was a beat of silence before Jimin responded, his tone a bit more thoughtful now. "So what, you're saying she's off-limits?"

Jungkook let out a frustrated breath, trying to find the right words. "I'm not saying she's off-limits, I'm just saying... she's not like other girls you flirt with. She's—she's Y/N, okay? She's not into that kind of stuff."

"You sound like you're her big brother or something," Jimin teased, though his tone was more serious now. "Look, I get it. You're looking out for her. But, Jungkook, if you don't have feelings for her, why do you care so much if she ends up liking one of us?"

Jungkook froze for a second, caught off guard by the question. He hadn't really thought about it that way before. It wasn't like he had feelings for you, but the idea of you dating one of his friends—especially Jimin—just didn't sit right with him.

"I don't care if she dates someone," Jungkook said finally, his voice a bit tighter than he intended. "I just don't want her to get hurt."

Jimin was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Okay, okay, I get it. I'll back off. I didn't realize you were this serious about it."

Jungkook relaxed a little, relieved that Jimin was taking him seriously now. "Thanks, man. I just don't want things to get weird."

"Fair enough," Jimin agreed. "But you might want to figure out why you care so much, 'cause from where I'm sitting, it's looking a little sus."

Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes even though Jimin couldn't see him. "There's nothing sus about it. I just don't want things to get complicated."

"Whatever you say, bro," Jimin replied, clearly not convinced but willing to let it go for now. "Anyway, I'll catch you later. Try not to overthink it too much, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jungkook muttered, ending the call and tossing his phone onto the couch.

As he sat down, the conversation played over in his mind. He wasn't overthinking it—he was just being a good friend. Looking out for you. That's all it was.

Jungkook stretched out on his bed, tossing his phone back and forth between his hands, his mind finally starting to quiet down.

His phone buzzed, and he saw your name pop up on the screen. Smiling, he answered, putting it on speaker as he lay back on his pillows.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice casual.

"Hey, Jeon," you replied, sounding a little tired but upbeat. "You home?"

"Yeah, just got back a bit ago. You?"

"Yup, finally in bed," you said with a sigh. "You think Professor Kim is really gonna hit us with that pop quiz tomorrow? I saw him smiling way too much in class today. Suspicious."

Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head. "He's definitely planning something. That guy enjoys watching us struggle."

You groaned dramatically. "Ugh, I'm so not prepared for that. I barely understood anything from last week's lecture."

"Did you even take notes?" Jungkook teased, knowing full well you tended to zone out in class.

"I did! Sort of...," you trailed off, and he could practically see you rolling your eyes. "I'll just copy yours tomorrow. You've got me, right?"

Jungkook laughed softly, the familiar ease of your conversations calming him down. "Yeah, yeah. I've got you. You always say that and then somehow ace the test anyway."

"Not without your help," you mumbled, and Jungkook could hear you settling deeper into your blankets, your voice getting softer.

"Anyways, you're coming to watch me play tomorrow right?" he perks up, trying to lighten the mood.

"There's no way I'd miss it."

He laughs, suddenly feeling giddy at the prospect of you coming to watch him. "Good, if you didn't come I would be sooo mad at you."

You giggle softly at that idea, Jungkook never gets mad, at least not at you. "Yeah, okay Kook." you teased, but your voice was trailing off, your exhaustion suddenly taking over.

Jungkook notices this, a soft smile playing on his face. "Alright, go to sleep. You're gonna need energy for that test tomorrow."

"Ugh, don't remind me," you mumbled, already half asleep. "Night, Jungkook."

"Night," he replied, waiting until he heard the soft click of the call ending before tossing his phone onto the bed beside him.

The next day, you and Jungkook found yourselves sitting in your usual spots near the back of the classroom, waiting for Professor Kim to start class. The room was buzzing with chatter, students exchanging notes and nervously talking about the possibility of a quiz. You were slouched over your notebook, flipping through pages, trying to cram in last-minute review, while Jungkook sat beside you, far too relaxed for your liking.

"You think we're actually getting that quiz?" you whispered, glancing over at him.

Jungkook smirked, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Oh, it's not just a quiz," he said, his voice low so only you could hear. "It's a full-on test. I saw him carrying in a stack of papers when I came in."

You groaned, dropping your head dramatically onto your notebook. "I'm so screwed."

Jungkook chuckled, nudging your arm with his elbow. "You should've studied with me."

"Don't even," you muttered, lifting your head just as Professor Kim walked in, shuffling the dreaded stack of test papers in his hands. Your stomach dropped.

"Good morning, class," Professor Kim announced with a suspiciously cheerful tone. "I hope you're all ready for today's test."

You glanced at Jungkook, who gave you a smug look, as if to say I told you so. You shot him a glare in return.

As Professor Kim passed out the tests, Jungkook leaned over slightly. "Just stay calm, Y/N. You'll be fine."

"I'll be calm when this is over," you whispered back, staring at the paper in front of you like it was a death sentence.

The room soon fell silent, except for the occasional shuffling of papers and the soft scratching of pens. You took a deep breath, flipping through the pages of the test, immediately feeling the pressure mount. The first few questions were doable, but by the time you hit the midpoint, it was like the words on the page were written in a foreign language.

You glanced over at Jungkook. He was scribbling away confidently, barely pausing as he moved through the questions with ease. Of course, he looked completely unbothered, like this was just another walk in the park. You could even see the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed, and he must have felt your gaze because he glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. When he saw the look of panic on your face, his smirk widened, and he gave a subtle shake of his head, clearly amused by your struggle.

You mouthed, "Help me!" exaggerating your expression for effect.

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head again. He leaned slightly closer and whispered under his breath, "Just focus."

You rolled your eyes, going back to your test. But focusing was the last thing you could do. Every time you got stuck on a question, you'd glance over at Jungkook again, and every time, he was still breezing through the test, like he was taking a casual quiz and not a full-blown assessment. It was infuriating.

After a few minutes of watching you squirm, Jungkook finally tilted his paper just slightly, making sure only you could see the edge of it. It wasn't enough to give away the answers, but it was enough to show you the format, which was a tiny bit helpful.

You caught on immediately, shooting him a grateful look. He just winked at you, clearly enjoying the situation way too much.

The rest of the test dragged on painfully, and by the time you reached the last page, your brain felt like mush. Meanwhile, Jungkook had already finished and was lounging back in his chair, stretching lazily as if the test had been no big deal. He shot you another amused glance, raising an eyebrow as if to say, See? Easy.

You were dying to toss something at him.

Finally, Professor Kim called time, and you let out a long breath as you handed in your test. Jungkook was waiting for you at the door, his hands shoved into his pockets, an infuriating grin on his face.

"So," he said casually as you walked out of the classroom together, "how was it?"

You shot him a look. "You're enjoying this way too much."

He chuckled, nudging your shoulder lightly. "Hey, you're the one who didn't study."

"I was going to, but you didn't exactly offer to help," you shot back, still frustrated by how easy it had been for him.

"I told you to stay calm," he said with a playful grin, clearly unfazed by your annoyance.

You groaned again, but even you couldn't stay mad at him for long. It was classic Jungkook—breezing through everything with a smile on his face while you struggled just to keep up. And despite yourself, you couldn't help but laugh a little as the two of you walked down the hallway together.

"Next time, you're helping me study," you declared, glancing up at him.

"Deal," he said, his grin widening. "But only if you promise to take better notes."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I'm starting to think you enjoy watching me suffer."

"Maybe just a little," he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

As you and Jungkook made your way down the hall, the usual buzz of campus life surrounded you. Students were rushing between classes, chatting in groups, or buried in their phones, but you were still thinking about the test you'd just barely survived.

Jungkook, of course, was in a good mood, walking beside you with that annoyingly smug look on his face. Just as you were about to tease him about how much he was enjoying your misery, a familiar voice called out.

"Yo, Jungkook! Y/N!" Taehyung appeared, striding toward the two of you, his usual carefree grin plastered on his face. Jimin was right behind him, looking effortlessly cool as always.

"Hey," Jungkook greeted them, stopping in his tracks as they reached you. "What's up?"

Taehyung grinned, leaning against the lockers. "Just heading to class, but I saw you two and figured we'd say hi."

Jimin's eyes landed on you, his gaze lingering for a second longer than usual. He smiled warmly. "Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice smooth. "Heard you had a test, how'd it go?

You sighed dramatically, already feeling the weight of your grade pulling you down. "Oh, it was awful. I know I failed."

Jimin chuckled, stepping a little closer. "Really? I can't imagine you struggling with anything. You probably did better than you think."

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. Jimin was always friendly, but today there was a slight edge to it, something more than the usual casual banter. His eyes flicked to Jungkook briefly before landing back on you.

"I doubt it," you laughed, feeling a little flustered by the compliment. "But thanks for the confidence boost."

Jimin smirked, his eyes still locked on you. "Anytime."

Just then, Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the shoulder. "We're heading to the art building. Where are you guys off to?"

"I'm going to bio," you said, glancing at your phone to check the time. "It's across campus, though."

"I can walk you—" Jungkook starts, your gaze shifting towards him, but he immediately gets interrupted by Jimin's voice.

Jimin perked up, a slight glint of interest in his eyes. "Really? I'm heading that way too. I can walk with you, if you want."

You smiled, appreciating the offer. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Before you could say anything else, Jungkook, who had been watching the whole exchange, nodded. "Alright, then. You guys go ahead," he said, his tone relaxed. "I'll catch you later, Y/N."

His easygoing attitude surprised you, but you figured he was just in a good mood after breezing through the test. He turned to Taehyung, and the two of them started walking in the opposite direction.

"Bye, Jungkook!" you called, waving after him. He shot you a quick wave without looking back, too busy joking around with Taehyung.

Jimin gave you a nod, gesturing for you to lead the way. "Shall we?"

You began walking at a comfortable pace, a comfortable silence settling down amongst the both of you. Or at least, you didn't mind the silence.

You could feel him glancing towards your face every so often, and when you turned to look, he just smiled innocently, turning his gaze straight ahead.

The silence started to grow awkward, until Jimin cleared his throat, as if preparing to bring up something he'd been thinking about for a while. "So.." he began, "Do you like Jungkook?"

Laughing at the absurdity of that idea, you meet his eyes once more, "What?" you said, your voice still laced with laughter. "No way, Jungkook's just a friend. Why would you ask that?"

Jimin smiled but didn't meet your eyes this time, running a hand through his hair, making him seem both casual but also nervous. "I don't know," he shrugged, he voice growing quieter. "It seems like he has a little crush on you. The way he looks at you, how he's always around you.."

You blinked, the idea catching you completely off guard. "No, me and him are just friends. He's like that with everyone." you replied, shaking your head firmly.

Jimin gave you a knowing smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Is he, though?" his tone was playful, but you suddenly grew irritated. You were sick of people assuming that someone had a crush on the other, or you were dating, when it was clearly not the case.

"He's like a brother to me, Jimin."

He chuckled, his gaze finally locking onto yours, his smile widening as he tilted his head. "A brother, huh?" he questions, never taking his eyes off you.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you pick up the pace, leaving Jimin a little further behind.

He immediately picks up his pace too, catching back up to you. "Hey, relax, I'll drop it." his hand rests on your shoulder as his playful tone from earlier drops, his voice now laced with sincerity. "I was just joking, Y/N. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I know. I'm not offended." you mumble, trying to appear as unbothered as you can, your hands reaching to fumble with the straps of your bag.

"Okay," his hand drops from your shoulder, resting at his side once again. "Besides, even if Jungkook has a crush, it's not like you don't have other options." He finishes, quite obviously referring to himself.

You laughed again, the annoyance fading away ever so slightly. "I'll keep that in mind, Jimin. But for now I'm happy with being just friends."

He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Fair enough. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

Bio dragged on at a painfully slow pace. The steady tick of the clock became your only focus, each second pulling your attention away from the jumble of textbooks and papers spread across your desk. The classroom was unusually quiet today, so every sound created was amplified; the tapping and clicking of pens, the rustling of sheets of papers, the occasional murmur of whispered conversations.

Your leg bounced restlessly beneath the table, anxiety suddenly overcoming you. Not only were you struggling in chemistry, you were struggling in biology too. Your eyes wandered to the people in the class, who got on with their tasks with ease. Even with a textbook open in front of you, you were confused.

You sighed inwardly, frustration settling in. There's no one else to blame but yourself, of course. After all the times you zoned out in class, and never payed attention, how could you even expect to understand the basics? The realisation hit you like a wave, a reminder that when you go home, you'd have no choice but to study.

Eventually, the hour passed after a long time of blankly staring at the ticking clock. You immediately grabbed a hold of your belongings, stuffing them into your bag and throwing it over your shoulder before exiting the room. You let out a sigh, a yawn escaping your body. Right now, all you wanted to do was take a nap. Luckily for you, it was the end of the day, you could finally leave.

You suddenly felt nauseous, a sickening feeling bubbling within your stomach as you remembered how much you struggled in not one but two classes. The image of your parents disappointment haunted you as you stormed into your locker, yanking it open and tossing your books inside with more force than necessary. You slammed it shut, your frustration rising.

As you did so, Jungkook appeared out of nowhere to the right of your locker, his eyes fixated on you with scrunched up brows.

You sighed again, glancing once towards his face and again towards the exit. Your legs dragged you towards the huge doors, but Jungkook was quick to follow behind you.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he walks up in front of you, gesturing towards his clothing. You noticed his attire from the morning was discarded, and instead replaced with the jersey he wore during his basketball games.

"Fuck, Kook, I completely forgot." you groaned, gripping your temples in frustration.

"Damn, Y/N. I reminded you everyday for the past week." His tone was serious, but you could catch the hint of a joke laced within his voice as he playfully shook his head.

It didn't take him long to notice your unusual state. Jungkook leaned forward, softly grabbing onto your shoulder with one hand while the other reached up to your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb across. "Whats wrong? You okay?" he asks, concern laced across his features.

"Nothing, I'm just tired." you admitted, although it wasn't the whole truth, it was still something.

His eyes look over your face, studying you. His hands now firmly rested on your shoulders. "You're a bad liar, Y/N. What happened? And tell me the truth."

"It's dumb."

"It's about that test, isn't it?"

You blinked in surprise. How did he know? You nodded.

"I'm sure you didn't do that bad," he reassured, squeezing your shoulders gently. "You're smart, Y/N. Cheer up." he playfully patted your cheeks, causing you to stifle a laugh, a smile forming on your face.

"Do you wanna go home?" he asked, his voice softening, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Well yes, but I wanna watch you play more." you say as his hands tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You noticed his expression brighten just a little at your words.

He grinned, moving to the side and ruffling your hair, messing it up again before then slinging an arm over your shoulder. "Come on then, we don't have much time," he says. "I'll win for you, don't worry."

You round the corner and make your way onto the court, where people are already seated and the teams are coming out of their rooms.

"JK, we're on, hurry up!" a voice calls, presumably another one of his members, he lets go of you and tells you to take a seat before running off into the court, but you don't miss how he looks towards you whenever he can, sending a smile your way, as if to make sure you were okay.

The game was intense from the start. The gym echoed with the sounds of sneakers squeaking against polished floors, the thud of the basketball hitting the court, and the excited cheers from the crowd. You sat in the bleachers, your bag shoved under your seat, feeling oddly at ease despite the earlier stress.

You found yourself sitting next to a girl who had been at the game last week, her face vaguely familiar. She wore a jersey that wasn't quite Jungkook's team colors, but she cheered loudly every time the ball changed hands.

"Hey, didn't I see you here last time?" she asked, leaning over slightly to talk. Her voice was warm, friendly, like someone who just knew how to make conversations less awkward.

"Yeah, probably," you said with a small smile, glancing at her. "I try to come to most of Jungkook's games."

"Ah, you're here for JK?" Her eyebrows raised, and there was a playful lilt to her voice. "Friend, girlfriend, or just a fan?"

"Friend," you clarified, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed the simplicity of that label.

She laughed, a soft chuckle that wasn't mocking but understanding. "Got it. I'm Soojin, by the way. I come to watch my cousin—he's on the other team, but don't tell anyone." She mimed zipping her lips.

You laughed a little at that. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

As the game went on, you and Soojin fell into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, punctuated by bursts of cheering and groaning whenever something exciting happened on the court. She was quick-witted and easy to talk to, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself genuinely relaxing.

"Okay, but Jungkook's insane, right?" Soojin said during a timeout, gesturing toward the court where Jungkook was wiping his face with a towel. "The way he just—" she mimicked a crossover dribble and a jump shot, "makes it look so effortless. Honestly, I'd trip over my own feet trying to do half of that."

You laughed, nodding. "Yeah, he's pretty crazy. He's been like that since we met, though. He's good at everything... it's honestly annoying sometimes."

Soojin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You guys must be close, huh? That's cute. So, what's it like having Jeon Jungkook as your personal hype man?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the small smile from forming. "It's chaotic, to say the least. He's super competitive, even outside of basketball. One time, we had this dumb bet over who could eat more tteokbokki, and—"

"Wait, let me guess," Soojin interrupted, grinning. "He demolished you, didn't he?"

You shook your head, laughing. "Nope. He thought he could out-eat me, but I totally won. He ended up lying on the floor groaning about how he was 'never eating again.'"

Soojin laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "That's amazing. He doesn't seem like the type to lose, especially at something like that."

"Oh, trust me," you said, leaning in conspiratorially. "He's not. He demanded a rematch a week later. Still lost, though."

The two of you dissolved into laughter, the tension of your earlier frustration completely forgotten. You were so caught up in the moment that you almost didn't notice when the crowd suddenly erupted into cheers.

The score was neck-and-neck, and every pass, dribble, and shot was met with thunderous applause or groans of disappointment. You found yourself leaning forward, completely absorbed in the game despite your earlier indifference.

With less than a minute left on the clock, Jungkook's team had the ball. The crowd was on its feet, chanting and clapping as he darted past defenders with effortless precision. You held your breath as he leapt for a three-pointer just as the buzzer sounded.

The ball arced beautifully through the air before sinking through the net with a satisfying swish. The gym erupted into cheers, the sound deafening as Jungkook's teammates swarmed him in celebration. He raised his arms in victory, then turned toward the stands, his eyes locking onto yours. He didn't just smile this time—he winked.

"Oh my god," Soojin said, clutching her chest dramatically. "That was smooth. I'm swooning, and it wasn't even aimed at me. Are you sure you're just friends? Because the way he keeps looking at you..."

You shook your head, laughing but feeling that familiar warmth creep up your neck again. "He's so extra sometimes."

"Extra? Girl, that was a whole movie moment," Soojin countered. "You should be flattered."

At that moment, Jungkook jogged over to the sidelines, drenched in sweat but beaming with pride. He waved at you as he approached, clearly pleased with himself.

"Well? What'd you think?" he asked, leaning on the railing in front of the bleachers.

"You were decent," you said, trying to sound unimpressed.

"Decent?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing in mock offense. "That was a game-winning three-pointer. You should be bowing down right now."

"Don't push your luck, Kook," you teased, though your grin gave you away.

"You did okay," Soojin chimed in, smirking. "But I think Y/N's still more impressed by the tteokbokki story."

Jungkook frowned, his ears turning slightly pink. "You told her about that?"

"Of course," you said, laughing. "It's one of my best Jungkook stories."

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Great. Now she thinks I'm a loser."

"Not at all," Soojin said, winking at you. "It's kind of endearing, actually."

Jungkook peeked through his fingers, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the two of you. "Y/N, let's go before you embarrass me further."

You laughed, grabbing your bag and standing up. "Fine, fine. See you around, Soojin."

"Definitely," she said, giving you a knowing smile. "Oh, and Jungkook?"

"Yeah?" he said, pausing mid-step.

"Good game," she said, grinning. "But maybe work on that tteokbokki endurance."

Jungkook groaned again, dragging you toward the exit as you burst into laughter.

The cool evening air hit your face as you both left the gym, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the crowded court. Jungkook still looked a little flustered, though he tried to play it cool, brushing a hand through his damp hair.

"I can't believe you told her about the tteokbokki thing," he muttered, shaking his head.

You smirked, bumping his arm lightly. "Oh, come on, it's a great story. Besides, you challenged me. What did you expect? For me to lose gracefully?"

"Gracefully? I expected you to lose, period," he quipped, shooting you a playful glare. "But apparently, you're hiding a black hole for a stomach. It's unfair."

He grumbled, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile. "Anyway, who was she? You seemed pretty chummy with her for someone you just met."

"Her name's Soojin. She's here to watch her cousin—apparently, he's on the other team. She's nice, though. Funny, too."

Jungkook shot you a look, his brows furrowing. "Wait, hold on. You were sitting next to someone rooting for the other team? And you didn't fight her?"

You snorted. "What am I supposed to do? Start a bleacher brawl? She wasn't obnoxious or anything. Plus, she said you're good. So, technically, she's on your side."

"She said that?" Jungkook perked up, his chest puffing out a little. "Well, I mean, she's not wrong."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't let it go to your head, Jeon."

The two of you strolled toward the bike racks, where Jungkook had locked up his old, slightly scuffed-up mountain bike. He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, then paused, looking at you thoughtfully.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice gentler now. "You seemed a little off earlier. Was it the test?"

The concern in his eyes made your stomach flip, and you hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "Yeah, the test sucked, and so did bio. I'll survive, though. No big deal."

Jungkook frowned, clearly not buying it. "Y/N, if it's stressing you out, let's do something about it. I'm serious."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What, you're going to tutor me? You don't even know the difference between mitosis and meiosis."

"Hey," he protested, feigning offense. "I could learn! For you, anyway." He tilted his head, studying your face. "But right now, I'm thinking food might help more than biology. You eaten yet?"

Your stomach growled in response, betraying you instantly. Jungkook's grin widened.

"Thought so," he said. "Come on, let's go get something."

"Now? Aren't you supposed to celebrate with your team or something?"

"Celebrate what? Another win? Boring," he said, waving it off. "Besides, I'd rather hang out with you. Let's go."

Before you could argue, he unlocked his bike and gestured for you to hop onto the back. "I'll give you a ride."

"You're kidding," you said, eyeing the bike skeptically.

"Do I look like I'm kidding? Come on, I've done this a million times."

Reluctantly, you climbed onto the back, holding onto his shoulders for balance. "If I fall and break something, I'm suing you."

Jungkook laughed, his voice full of mischief. "Relax. I'm a pro."

Minutes later, you found yourself seated at a small street food stand, the warm glow of hanging lights illuminating the bustling night market. The smell of grilled meat, savory pancakes, and spicy tteokbokki filled the air, making your mouth water.

Jungkook ordered for both of you, insisting he knew the best dishes. When the food arrived, he slid a steaming plate of tteokbokki toward you with a smirk. "Round two?"

You burst out laughing. "You're kidding."

"Dead serious," he said, picking up a piece with his chopsticks and holding it out to you. "Unless you're scared?"

"You wish," you shot back, leaning in to take the bite. The spicy-sweet sauce burst across your taste buds, and you couldn't help the satisfied hum that escaped. "Okay, this is really good."

"Told you," Jungkook said, grabbing a bite for himself. "But don't get too comfortable. I'm winning this time."

The two of you dug in, the conversation flowing as easily as the food disappeared. Jungkook was in his element, cracking jokes and teasing you relentlessly, but there was a warmth beneath his playful banter that made your heart flutter.

At one point, he leaned in closer, his dark eyes catching yours in the soft light. "You know, I like this. Just... hanging out. No stress, no tests. Just us."

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you managed a teasing grin. "Are you getting sentimental on me, Jeon?"

"Maybe," he admitted, his smile turning softer. "What can I say? You bring it out of me."

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the noise of the market dimming as you held his gaze. Then Jungkook broke the spell with a sudden grin. "But I'm still beating you at this tteokbokki challenge. Watch."

"Dream on," you said, laughing as you picked up another piece. The night stretched on, the stress of the day forgotten as you and Jungkook filled it with laughter, teasing, and just a hint of something more.

As the night wore on, the little food stall grew quieter, but your laughter with Jungkook only got louder. He was in rare form, his wit sharp, his expressions dramatic. Every time he popped another piece of tteokbokki into his mouth, he acted like it was some Herculean feat, groaning as though the spice might defeat him.

"You're such a baby," you teased, shaking your head. "It's not that spicy."

"Oh, says the queen of spice tolerance," he shot back, his voice muffled as he reached for his drink. "Not all of us are walking fire-breathing dragons."

"Dragons are cool," you said with a shrug. "Take it as a compliment."

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "You know, Y/N, you've got a weird way of flirting."

Your chopsticks froze mid-air, and you nearly choked on your own saliva. "Flirting?" you sputtered, your voice jumping an octave. "Who said I was flirting?"

"Not me," he said smoothly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "But if you were, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was being serious or just messing with you. His expression gave nothing away, though the slight tilt of his head and the way his gaze lingered on your face made your heart race.

"Well, don't hold your breath," you shot back, trying to sound unaffected. "You're not that special."

"Ouch," he said, clutching his chest dramatically. "Here I am, taking you out, feeding you, carrying this entire night with my charm, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Carrying the night?" You snorted. "You're delusional. If anything, I'm the one entertaining you."

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as if to concede. "Fine, we'll call it even. But seriously," his tone softened, his playful demeanor giving way to something more sincere. "I'm glad we did this. You seemed so stressed earlier, and it's nice to see you smiling again."

You felt a pang of warmth at his words, his genuine concern breaking through the teasing façade. "Thanks, Kook. I needed this," you admitted, surprising even yourself with how honest you sounded.

"Well, you've got me," he said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Whenever you need to forget about the world—or just eat your weight in tteokbokki—I'm your guy."

You smiled, unable to help the way your heart seemed to flip at his words. "Careful, Jeon. You keep saying sweet things like that, and people might think you're trying to charm me."

"Trying?" He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward again with a wicked grin. "Y/N, I don't need to try."

The heat in your cheeks betrayed you, but you refused to let him see you flustered. "Wow, your confidence is unmatched. Maybe you should focus less on flirting and more on finishing your plate," you said, gesturing to the food in front of him.

He laughed, grabbing his chopsticks again. "Fine, but don't think you're off the hook. I'm keeping track of how much you've eaten. We're still in competition mode."

"Oh, please. I already won," you retorted, taking another bite to prove your point.

The banter carried on, light and easy, as the plates slowly emptied. By the time the last piece of tteokbokki was gone, you both leaned back in your chairs, letting out identical groans of satisfaction.

"I think I've reached my limit," you said, patting your stomach dramatically. "I might actually regret this tomorrow."

"Regret?" Jungkook scoffed, reaching for his drink. "This is the opposite of regret. This is living." He took a sip, eyeing you with a teasing grin. "Admit it—you're impressed by my ability to pick the perfect late-night spot."

You gave him a look, smirking. "Impressed? Not quite. But I'll give you points for good taste."

"Wow, tough crowd," he said, shaking his head with mock disappointment. "Fine, next time, you pick the place. But don't forget, you owe me now."

"I owe you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

"For saving you from your stress-induced meltdown," he replied with a grin. "And for treating you to this gourmet feast."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile creeping onto your face. "Fine. I guess I do owe you. But don't let it go to your head, Jeon."

"It's already there," he said, tapping the side of his head.

The two of you stood, Jungkook grabbing the tray of empty plates to return to the stall owner. As he turned back to you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, he cocked his head slightly.

"You good to walk home, or do you need me to carry you?" he teased, but his voice held a hint of genuine concern.

"I can manage," you replied, brushing off his offer.

"Sure about that?" he asked, stepping closer with a playful grin. "You look like you're one wrong step away from rolling down the street."

You smacked his arm lightly, laughing. "Don't push your luck."

The two of you started down the street, the cool breeze brushing against your skin. The city had quieted down, leaving only the faint hum of streetlights and the occasional distant chatter of other late-night diners.

"You're not in a rush to get back, are you?" Jungkook asked casually, glancing over at you.

You shook your head. "Not really. Why?"

He hesitated for a second, then shrugged. "Figured you might want to hang out a little longer. My place isn't far from here."

Your heart skipped at the casual invitation, though he said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Your place?"

"Yeah," he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. "It's nothing fancy, but I've got snacks, a comfy couch, and a killer view from the balcony. You can unwind for a bit before heading home."

You hesitated, glancing up at him. There was no pressure in his expression, just a quiet sincerity that made it impossible to say no.

"Okay," you said finally, smiling. "Lead the way, Jeon."

His grin widened, and he reached out, giving your hand a quick tug to follow him. "Prepare to be amazed. Or, you know, mildly impressed."

taglist: @blackswan446 @tesfayera @rrosiitas (comment/msg to be added)

#bts #bts x reader #jungkook ff #jikook x reader #jimin ff #bts college au #college au #park jimin #jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

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eah-confessions · 3 days ago

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i think people are too harsh on the apple and raven switched at birth theory. sure, people are not allowed to like it and i'm not against pointing out the flaws in it but i sort of think people are overly negative about it's flaws, and i hope that doesn't affect the creator. and i'm saying this as someone who doesn't agree with the theory and also heavily disagrees with it

first of all one of the takes ive seen is switched at birth would "destroy" the destiny themes of the show- to which i heavily disagree. i feel like if the writers added this revelation later on in the series if way too wonderland and dragon games didnt end the destiny arc it would point the flaws in the destiny system and change the relationship's the royals. both raven and apple's moms have one track mind and believe their destiny should be followed. it would be a massive revelation to the characters and affect their relationships. i dont think it would make all the "drama" useless considering how a lot of it stems from the culture of the fairytale world, and it would force the characters to really consider what the destiny system is. one of the biggest revelations it would be if the parents didnt know too somehow, and it was a mistake the doctors made and not intentional. (or even an ordinary citizen of bookend who was mad at the destiny system- just throwing ideas out) if the story suddenly went this way, i wouldnt like it but it doesnt feel impossible to be added to the ever after high story, given cerise and ramona's story being added late in the story or holly and poppy. i mean swapping two different babies compared to twins being born really close together is a huge reach- but still.

another thing i've seen is that because blond hair can be be recessive it disproves the theory. i understand the theory is mostly because of the hair colors of the characters not matching, but i dont really think this disprove it because it's really hard to dispute given how bare bones the theory is. many bad theories are intentionally or not intentionally difficult to disprove. i also thought, as far as i know never seeing both sets of parents even in an illustration for them is kind of suspicious to me. it would be interesting to see them focus on their family tree as well, but they didnt probably because that would kill the suspense of seeing these characters later on.

i do think this is a bad theory (its more of an idea than a theory), but an interesting story concept that could have even be considered for ever after high. i do think that its possible that this was an early idea for ever after high. consider the following: ever after high was in development for several years and wasnt even about fairytales at first, it was about witches. disney was even working on desendants as well. now part of me wonders if the reason that apple doesnt have black hair is because of disney and not wanting to make the characters too similar to disney's despite them having the well known versions of many characters. so they have to call back to the disney version (ex: adding yellow and gold in apple's design) without directly copying them. another thing that strikes me as interesting is that in one of the original versions of snow white she has "hair as black as ebony" yet in her future shown in the mirror we never see snow white in the future with the blonde turning into black hair. in fact its raven who undergoes more of a transformation. knowing how much ever after high uses the original source material of the original it's something to consider. another interesting thing to consider is the possibility if cerise was going to be more relevant this theme would make sense throughout the series, of inheriting a destiny that doesn't belong to you (i believe she was in the stop motion short) so with this i propose that it could have been considered at one point for the story, but didnt use it because it didnt work. another interesting idea is apple and raven not being switched, but being related somehow. like if the good king had a relationship with snow white but left her for evil queen and she had apple because of that. so apple and raven would be half sisters. again, not something i would want in canon but still interesting.

i know the original posters of these takes might disagree with me, but i feel like switched at birth- even though not a well carefully or thought out theory (literally just a "what if") can open up more discussions of the creative decisions on ever after high, and i feel like the community just going at this theory (as well as other communities going after theories that arent just "its not real") to me is sort of unproductive. ive seen too many takes on why it's stupid and i'm tired. i think the original creator, as far as i'm aware is a well read person who made one bad theory so when people say that it "lacks media literacy" i sort of get mad on their behalf, also hating that as a buzzword. so yeah, even though i think switched at birth is a "stupid" theory i think it's overcriticized in the fandom for being bad, when the concepts it has are really interesting outside of this theory. because the fact the ever after high designers made the child of snow white a blonde is very interesting from a design perspective because snow white is well known in many versions of her tale for having black hair. as well as the fact that ever after high was sort of mistreated by mattel and that affected the plot we were shown and how the fandom interacts with eah media. sorry if some people see this confession is just "people are too negative" but i do think people are blowing how bad this theory out of proportion. it's a bad theory with a lot of potential. i think this fandom in general has a lot of problems of overusing negative criticism and certain discussions becoming popular over others, like overfocusing on the selfishness of certain characters and whether or not apple (or raven) is a good or bad person objectively and arguing about it amongst each other instead of like... the larger actual story? i also think switched at birth would make a good AU and seeing what it would mean for their fairytales is so interesting. but not a good theory, no...

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igglemouse · 3 days ago

Text

The symptoms are hitting hard this morning as you can see and it is very difficult to make it to the restroom when you have to walk as slowly as possible. I worry for a moment that I might not make it but don't worry I get there just in time.

But my morning is the usual, changing diapers and keeping her squeaky clean. Which isn't easy since it sometimes feels like she does whatever she can to avoid being clean. At least this morning she waited until six a.m. to cry for attention!

Pascal's morning is also the usual, for him at least. Beating up that poor treadmill again. This man is really dedicated to his fitness and it's so admirable that I'm happy to let him be in the mornings.

So I feel like the sooner I bring it up, the better. It makes little sense holding it back from him since he'll figure it out eventually. I expect he'll be happy just based on the last time we talked about children, so there isn't any pressure about it this time. I think I'll just bring it up over breakfast actually. Yeah, that is the plan!

So that's exactly what happens. We finish an apple salad and before Pascal can get up and likely go train or work out again I keep him at the table with a simple sentence. "Looks like Flora will be having a little brother or sister."

It takes him a few seconds to either parse what I mean OR come to grips with it. "You're pregnant?" I give my head a little nod and watch as a smile spreads across his face. "Wow!"

"Would it be biased if I hope it is a boy?" He says and I quickly shake my head.

"Nope! I'd be happy with a boy too, keep things even, I guess," and maybe would get him more involved? Although, I will say, he has stepped up a little. Not a lot but...a little is better than nothing.

While I'll soon be a mother of two I am also still very much a Simtube content creator and I must make sure that to keep the momentum going for my channel and so it's time to record a new video.

This one will teach anyone how to make quick and chewy blueberry bagels. A nice desert to go along with a main dish to be sure and I think easy enough for anyone to bake! I will admit that my baking skills are not the best buuuuuuuuuut I think I am proud of the end result!

Thankfully Flora slept right through the recording of my video but you know right after it I had to go and check on her and play with her and give her a little tummy time. I think she does pretty well although she definitely throws a tantrum in the middle of it.

But if you recall I had planned on inviting both Sara and Marjorie over to meet Flora and well...because of previous events I'd like to move past it is only Sara who comes.

She does arrive with a bit of a frown on her face and I'm sure I'll find out why she's in such a sour mood but first to invite her inside and more importantly, introduce her to Flora!

And so I have to go and pull Flora from her crib and bring her to Sara who lights up at the sight of her. Whatever frown she had on her face instantly melts away and she can't wait to hold her.

"Florencia is her full name," I say to Sara as she coos and snuggles Flora who is being very well behaved right now! "She seems to only be fussy with me!"

"Well of course because she knows you'll listen to every little demand she has!"

"Having the strong urge to have your own yet?" I joke but I can tell saying that hit the wrong nerve. "Sara, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine, I want to but...can we talk about it a little later?"

"Of course!"

It was then that Flora decided she had enough of introductions and started to cry.

"Ok ok Flora, we get it, we get it!," I say taking her back and letting Sara know she's free to hang around but I have to get her to sleep.

Sara was exploring the house a bit since its actually her first time here and in the end I find her seated right before my tempting blueberry bagels. I'm guessing she would have taken one but she looks like she has a lot on her mind right now. "This place is...really nice," she says, at least in a much better mood than when she arrived.

"Isn't it? Still very empty but we'll fill it day by day, I hope."

"It's a lot of space to fill but it's also not too much, if that makes sense?" She is right. It's not exactly a mansion but it's big enough to be impressive.

"So..." I start, curious about what has Sara all sour right now. "Is everything okay?"

"It's the guy, you know the one I'm dating?" she reveals but all I can do is nod my head because I actually do not know the guy she's dating. She has kept his identity as vague as possible, not on purpose, I think, but he remains a mystery to me all the same. "He's umm, well, let's just say his occupation isn't clean."

"Clean?" I urge, needing a bit more.

"He works for the cartel...I think."

"Oh," well, that's no good. You all know i have an extensive relationship with the cartel but Sara does not know that. All she knows is that I'm an immigrant. "Sara, who exactly are you-"

"Well, that's not the problem," she says, as if there could be something bigger than that. "He apparently has a bit of a promotion on the table and thinks he should take it."

"A promotion in that world usually means more simoleons and more of a chance of also getting killed," I tell her honestly. "Sara, who is this guy?"

"My boyfriend?" she says, which is obvious. I know that but how do I get more information out of her about him?

"Sara, I've known a few cartel guys from...well, they basically ran the town I came from. Maybe I know about him and can better prepare you for-?"

"Simón," she says and at that moment my heart drops.

There is only one Simón that I know and I do not think there could be another especially tied to the cartel. Maybe there is, it's not that uncommon of a name after all, but before I can ask for his last name she's moved on, perhaps sensing that I wasn't into the conversation so somehow she's talking about Flora again.

"She really is adorable isn't she? You know it was dangerous coming over here I might get the fever myself!"

"O-oh uh yeah, yeah," I say, regaining my balance. She's very possibly dating Simón, my Simón. "Oh umm, by the way, I'm pregnant again," I announce for whatever reason. Perhaps because I was not sure what else to say or do in the moment.

Well, that will certainly be awkward if she introduces me to him. I would tell her that I know him but I'm only 90% sure that she's talking about the same guy...maybe, hopefully, she is not.

Frida Varela - Next Episode 10.4

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fandomfablesunleashed · 3 days ago

Text

“Just roommates”

Ace x reader (she/her)

Chapter 15 of And they were roommates - Modern AU series

warning: alcohol consumption

@captainportgasdace 🫶🫶

As you wove through the crowd, your heart still raced, replaying the memory of that charged moment over and over, feeling raw and exposed. The sweet scent of him lingered in the air, mixing with the vibrant atmosphere of the party, but all you wanted now was space to collect your thoughts and calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

You found an empty corner in the room, somewhere you could take a break to catch your breath and try to compose yourself. While you stood there, trying to regain your composure, you couldn't help but wonder how he was reacting to the situation. Was he as shaken as you, or had he shrugged it off and returned to enjoying the party?

“You're okay?” You heard Zoro's voice break through the haze of your thoughts, and you realized you hadn't even noticed him standing there. You glanced over at him, a little envious of his calm demeanor. How did he stay so composed? You couldn't imagine what that must have felt like—like there was nothing rattling around in his head, no emotions to drown in, no confusion to navigate.

You let out a soft sigh, leaning your shoulder against the wall next to him. As you did, you heard the pop of a bottle opening, and you rolled your eyes. He really could drink a lot. Before you could comment on it, he handed you a bottle. You looked at him, surprised, but then noticed the second one clutched in his other hand, just waiting for its turn.

“Um, thanks,” you said, grabbing the bottle and immediately taking a big swig. The cool burn of alcohol hit your throat, and you swallowed, hoping the liquid might smooth over the mess inside you.

Zoro shrugged, his gaze still locked on the crowd, as he continued drinking in silence. The silence between you was oddly comforting, and you appreciated his quiet nature more than usual.

The music pulsed in the background, voices and laughter mingling, but it all felt distant. Every time you tried to pull yourself out of your head, it felt like your mind stubbornly circled back to the same image—the way Ace’s gaze had held yours earlier, another near-kiss that now seemed both too close and impossibly far away.

“You're awfully quiet,” Zoro commented, not even looking at you. “Something on your mind?”

For a second, you were taken aback. You hadn’t expected him to notice, much less ask. He wasn’t the type to pry, but there was something about his steady gaze that made you feel like he actually understood without needing words.

“I… I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. “Just… trying to shake off the night.”

The surrounding music grew louder, and you closed your eyes, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the feelings swirling around in your chest. But then, just as your mind began to drift away from Ace, you felt it—a presence, a sudden pull. You opened your eyes to find him across the room, his back to you as he talked to Sabo.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. There he was. His voice was low, too far for you to hear, but it didn’t matter. You could feel the space between you, the invisible thread that drew your attention to him, no matter how much you tried to look away.

Zoro seemed to sense the change, his eyes flicking toward you and then back to the crowd. “He’s not gonna make it easier, you know,” Zoro muttered, and you almost laughed at how blunt he was.

You looked back at Zoro, his face unreadable, as always. “Yeah,” you replied softly, shaking your head. “I know.”

Zoro didn’t speak again, and you found that you didn’t need him to. The two of you stood there, leaning against the wall, the noise of the party swirling around you. And yet, your mind wouldn’t shut off, even with more alcohol running through your veins. It wandered back to Ace.

Ace was standing in a dark corner of the room, trying to keep his cool. His heart was still thudding loudly in his chest, his skin still tingling from the proximity to you. He could feel the eyes of others on him, curious and perhaps even amused, but he ignored them; all his focus was on you and what had just happened.

He had replayed the moments before the abrupt music change in his mind over and over again: the feel of your body against his, the scent of your hair, the taste of your breath on his lips. His thoughts kept going back to that split second before it all ended, when it had felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

He was both frustrated and relieved that the moment ended when it did. Frustrated because he wanted more; he wanted to know what your lips felt like on his, desired to find out if kissing you would be as incredible as he suspected it would be. Relieved because there was no way you felt for him what he felt for you.

He looked across the room, seeking you out. He saw you standing in an isolated corner, next to Zoro. He wanted to cross the room, to talk to you, to see how you were reacting, but he was paralyzed with a combination of fear and doubt. What if you hated him now? What if this had pushed you further away from him?

“You okay, man?” Sabo asked, giving Ace a light pat on the shoulder.

Ace jumped slightly, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly regained his composure, plastering a dismissive smirk on his face. “I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

Sabo didn’t seem fooled by the nonchalant tone, his sharp gaze narrowing as he took in Ace’s stiff posture. “You've been standing here for a while, staring off into space. That's not how you are usually at parties.”

“I'm just taking a breather,” Ace muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair, trying to downplay the growing unease gnawing at him. “It's a bit crowded in here.”

Sabo rolled his eyes, clearly seeing through the lie. “You were fine until you were dancing with a certain girl. Now you're standing here like a statue, brooding.”

Ace’s jaw clenched, and his throat went dry as Sabo’s words hit a nerve. His frustration surged, making his stomach churn, and for a moment, he wished he could just vanish into the walls.

“I'm not brooding,” Ace scowled, annoyed that Sabo had seen through him so easily. “Just… thinking, that's all.”

“Yeah, thinking about your roommate,” Sabo said, a sly smile on his face. “You went from practically eating her face to–”

Ace’s face burned at the bluntness, and he felt a sharp pang of embarrassment. He tried to keep it together, but the heat spreading across his face betrayed him. He quickly tried to brush it off with a weak chuckle, interrupting his brother quickly, though his voice came out strained. “I wasn’t eating her face,” he protested, the words feeling hollow even as they left his mouth. “We were just dancing. Having a good time. Nothing weird, alright?”

“Sure,” Sabo said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Nothing weird at all about the two of you getting so close. You were practically glued together. And the look on your faces? Totally normal for just friends and roommates.”

Ace let out a heavy sigh, the weight of Sabo’s words sinking into him. He wanted to deny it, wanted to brush it off as nothing, but he couldn’t. Not with the overwhelming flood of emotions crashing through him. He swallowed, knowing there was no real point in fighting it anymore.

“Fine. We were dancing, and maybe we were a bit too close,” he admitted. “But nothing happened, alright? The music changed, and we broke apart. End of story.”

“Yeah, sure, 'nothing happened,' just like nothing happened during your last game session, right?”

Ace winced as the memory surfaced, his face heating up once again. He instantly regretted telling Sabo about the near kiss, knowing he was going to milk the situation for all it was worth. “I told you that in confidence, you know,” he muttered sullenly, shooting Sabo a look.

Sabo’s smirk never wavered. “Uh-huh,” he said, clearly enjoying this far too much. “And yet, here we are. You and a certain someone, getting all cozy again, but never doing anything substantial.”

Ace glared at him, but he couldn't deny that Sabo had a point. The frustration in his chest was starting to burn hotter, and he was getting so damn tired of dancing around these almost-kisses and almost-moments with you. It felt like you were stuck in a never-ending loop of what-ifs, and it was driving him crazy.

“You know it's not that simple,” he snapped. “She's my roommate; it's difficult.”

The words felt weak even as he said them. He wanted to believe they were enough to explain everything, but inside, it felt like a flimsy excuse. His mind raced, knowing that deep down, he was scared. Scared of the consequences, scared of making things awkward, scared of ruining everything.

“What's so difficult? You like her; she clearly likes you. Just pull your head out of your ass, stop being a coward, and kiss her. You know you both want to.”

Ace felt his blood boil at Sabo’s blunt words. It was infuriating how easily Sabo laid everything out. Just kiss her. As if it were that simple. As if his feelings weren’t tangled up in so much more.

“You make it sound so damn easy,” Ace grunted. “But she's not just some random girl; she's my roommate. If things go wrong, it could get really complicated.”

Before Sabo had a chance to respond, Ace let out a long sigh and muttered, “I'm not even sure she feels the same way about me. I might just be imagining things.”

Sabo rolled his eyes again, clearly growing frustrated. “You're kidding, right? I swear, sometimes you're so blind it's ridiculous. Do you really think she was leaning in to kiss you because she didn't feel the same? People don't do that, Ace.”

He thought back to the moment—how your breath had been so close to his, how your lips had hovered there for just a fraction of a second. It was hard to dismiss that feeling, hard to ignore the small flicker of hope that it might have been real. But then, doubt crept back in.

“Maybe she's just lonely,” Ace insisted, grasping at straws. “It's been a while since she's had a boyfriend, and I'm the one guy always nearby, so maybe…”

Sabo looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. “That's your reasoning? That she's lonely? You really think she would throw herself at the nearest person just because she's lonely?” Sabo’s tone was almost incredulous, as if Ace’s explanation was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

And for a moment, Ace felt like a fool. His stomach twisted in knots as Sabo’s words cut through his mind. The idea that he might have been the one misreading everything made his head spin.

Sabo let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head, clearly fed up. “You know what? I can't keep having this conversation with you. You're being irrational and stubborn. I'm going to go dance with Koala.”

Alone in the corner, Ace felt the weight of his own thoughts crushing him. He knew Sabo had a point—hell, he’d been dancing around it for months. But the nagging sense that this wasn’t as easy as Sabo made it sound refused to leave him. You and him, it couldn't be that simple, could it?

Later, you and Ace found yourselves hanging out with the same group. You both did your best to pretend that everything was normal between you, as you kept drinking and forcing smiles for your friends. But neither of you could shake the charge that still lingered in the air between you.

Despite your best efforts to seem casual, you felt off. You tried hard to focus, engaging in the conversation, laughing, and cracking jokes when appropriate. Every so often, you caught him looking at you, and it made your heart stutter. Each time, it was a fleeting moment, but in that split second, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared.

Just when you found yourself gazing at each other again, one of the guys at the table, Deuce, slurred out. “Hey, I've been meaning to ask you two,” he said, waving a beer bottle back and forth between you and Ace. “Isn't it, like, weird living together? I mean, you're both hot and single, any interesting moments to disclose?”

That question got people's attention and all those nearby turned toward you two, waiting for an answer with big grins.

You glanced over at Ace, not entirely sure how to answer that question. The awkwardness in the air between you two made your throat tighten. But before you could find the words, Ace cut in.

“Nah, it's no big deal,” he said with a shrug. “We've been living together for months now; it's completely normal.”

You forced yourself to smile at his words, trying to play along, but inside, you felt a wave of discomfort. His tone was light, but it felt like a defense mechanism, a way to deflect the unspoken tension that had been growing between you both for days.

“Yeah, totally normal,” Sabo chimed. “No awkward situations whatsoever…” His tone was knowing, and several people around the table snickered at the implication.

Ace rolled his eyes, shooting Sabo a dirty look. “Shut up, Sabo,” he grumbled, trying to shut down the conversation before it got out of hand.

The others at the table, sensing an opportunity for some fun, joined in, ribbing you both with more questions and jokes. “Come on, there must have been at least one awkward moment,” someone teased.

Ace gritted his teeth, growing irked by the constant needling. “Seriously, guys, there's nothing going on,” he insisted. “We're just roommates; it's completely platonic.”

You couldn't help but wince internally at his adamant insistence that there was nothing going on. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he said them, as if he truly believed it, and that belief made you feel smaller than you cared to admit. You tried to push down the knot in your chest, but it wouldn’t go away.

You forced a smile, joining in with a dismissive, “Yep, just roommates. Nothing more.”

The guys around the table were disappointed, clearly hoping for some kind of juicy revelation, and one of them muttered, “Boring.” Thankfully, the conversation moved on, but the weight of the moment stayed with you, heavy in the pit of your stomach.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the hurt. You knew it shouldn’t bother you this much, that you shouldn’t let Ace's words get under your skin, but they did. Each of his words felt like a quiet rejection, a reminder that maybe the chemistry you felt, the moments you shared, meant nothing to him.

The memory of those two near-kisses flashed in your mind, each one like a spark, igniting the ache in your chest all over again. You could still feel the heat of him against you, the warmth of his breath on your skin.

The memory contrasted with the sharp reality of the present—his rejection of any deeper connection between you both. It stung more than you wanted to admit, and the alcohol in your system made it all feel rawer, the emotional weight settling deeper in your bones. You took another large gulp of your drink, trying to drown out the confusion and frustration building inside you, but the thoughts kept resurfacing.

Ace, on the other hand, was struggling just as much as you were, though he did his best to hide it. Every time he looked at you, the longing would flare up inside him, followed by a flash of frustration. He was trying to convince himself that there was nothing more to it, that it was all just friendship, but the memory of those almost-kisses—the closeness, the chemistry that was impossible to ignore—kept flooding back. No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, he couldn’t shake the need to be closer.

He kept telling himself everything was fine, that it was just normal, and that he could keep pretending nothing had changed. But with each smile, each laugh you shared, with every touch and passing glance, it took everything he had to keep himself from grabbing you and kissing you senseless.

He was trying to drown out the thoughts with alcohol, with conversation, with anything that could distract him from the constant gnawing feeling of need that was growing inside him. But the alcohol only made his feelings more intense, and the more he attempted to keep his distance, the more aware he became of your presence, your scent, and the way you moved.

And each time he fought it, he found himself sinking deeper into the confusion and longing, unsure how much longer he could hold on before everything he was feeling would come crashing to the surface.

#onepiece #one piece fic #ace d portgas #ace one piece #ace portgas #ace x reader #andtheywererommates

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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one of the things that i think we should pay attention to, socially, about the disney v. desantis thing is that it is really highlighting the importance of remembering nuance.

in a purely neutral sense, if you engage in something problematic, that does not mean you are necessarily agreeing with what makes it problematic. and i am worried that we have become... so afraid of any form of nuance.

disney isn't my friend, they're a corporate monopoly that bastardized copyright laws for their own benefit, ruin the environment, and abuse their workers (... and many other things). this isn't a hypothetical for me - i grew up in florida. i also worked for the actual Walt Disney World; like, in the parks. i am keenly aware of the ways they hurt people, because they hurt me. i fully believe that part of the reason florida is so conservative is because it's been an "open secret" for years now that disney lobbies the government to keep minimum wage down, and i know they worked hard to keep the parks unmasked and open during the worst parts of Covid. they purposefully keep their employees in poverty. they are in part responsible for the way the floridian government works.

desantis is still, by a margin that is frankly daunting, way worse. the alternative here isn't just "republicans win", it's actual fascism.

in a case like this, where the alternative is to allow actual fascism into united states legislation - where, if desantis wins, there are huge and legal ramifications - it's tempting to minimize the harm disney is also doing, because... well, it's not fascism. but disney isn't the good guy, either, which means republicans are having a field day asking activists oh, so you think their treatment of their employees is okay?

we have been trained there is a right answer. you're right! you're in the good group, and you're winning at having an opinion.

except i have the Internet Prophecy that in 2-3 months, even left-wing people will be ripping apart activists for having "taken disney's side". aren't i an anti-capitalist? aren't i pro-union? aren't i one of the good ones? removed from context and nuance (that in this particular situation i am forced to side with disney, until an other option reveals itself), my act of being like "i hope they have goofy rip his throat out onstage, shaking his lifeless body like a dog toy" - how quickly does that seem like i actually do support disney?

and what about you! at home, reading this. are you experiencing the Thought Crime of... actually liking some of the things disney has made? your memories of days at the parks, or of good movies, or of your favorite show growing up. maybe you are also evil, if you ever enjoyed anything, ever, at all.

to some degree, the binary idealization/vilification of individual motive and meaning already exists in the desantis case. i have seen people saying not to go to the disney pride events because they're cash grabs (they are). i've seen people saying you have to go because they're a way to protest. there isn't a lot of internet understanding of nuance. instead it's just "good show of support" or "evil bootlicking."

this binary understanding is how you can become radicalized. when we fear nuance and disorder, we're allowing ourselves the safety of assuming that the world must exist in binary - good or bad, problematic or "not" problematic. and unfortunately, bigots want you to see the world in this binary ideal. they want you to get mad at me because "disney is taking a risk for our community but you won't sing their praises" and they want me to get mad at you for not respecting the legit personal trauma that disney forced me through.

in a grander scheme outside of disney: what happens is a horrific splintering within activist groups. we bicker with each other about minimal-harm minimal-impact ideologies, like which depiction of bisexuality is the most-true. we gratuitously analyze the personal lives of activists for any sign they might be "problematic". we get spooked because someone was in a dog collar at pride. we wring our hands about setting an empty shopping mall on fire. we tell each other what words we may identify ourselves by. we get fuckin steven universe disk horse when in reality it is a waste of our collective time.

the bigots want you to spend all your time focusing on how pristine and pretty you and your interests are. they want us at each other's throats instead of hand in hand. they want to say see? nothing is ever fucking good enough for these people.

and they want their followers to think in binary as well - a binary that's much easier to follow. see, in our spaces, we attack each other over "proper" behavior. but in bigoted groups? they attack outwards. they have someone they hate, and it is us. they hate you, specifically, and you are why they have problems - not the other people in their group. and that's a part of how they fucking keep winning.

some of the things that are beloved to you have a backbone in something terrible. the music industry is a wasteland. the publishing industry is a bastion of white supremacy. video games run off of unpaid labor and abuse.

the point of activism was always to bring to light that abuse and try to stop it from happening, not to condemn those who engage in the content that comes from those industries. "there is no ethical consumption under late capitalism" also applies to media. your childhood (and maybe current!) love of the little mermaid isn't something you should now flinch from, worried you'll be a "disney adult". wanting the music industry to change for the better does not require that you reject all popular music until that change occurs. you can acknowledge the harm something might cause - and celebrate the love that it has brought into your life.

we must detach an acknowledgment of nuance from a sense of shame and disgust. we must. punishing individual people for their harmless passions is not doing good work. encouraging more thoughtful, empathetic consumption does not mean people should feel ashamed of their basic human capacities and desires. it should never have even been about the individual when the corporation is so obviously the actual evil. this sense that we must live in shame and dread of our personal nuances - it just makes people bitter and hopeless. do you have any idea how scared i am to post this? to just acknowledge the idea of nuance? that i might like something nuanced, and engage in it joyfully? and, at the same time, that i'm brutally aware of the harm that they're doing?

"so what do i do?" ... well, often there isn't a right answer. i mean in this case, i hope mickey chops off ron's head and then does a little giggle. but truth be told, often our opinions on nuanced subjects will differ. you might be able to engage in things that i can't because the nuance doesn't sit right with me. i might think taylor swift is a great performer and a lot of fun, and you might be like "raquel, the jet fuel emissions". we are both correct; neither of us have any actual sway in this. and i think it's important to remember that - the actual scope of individual responsibility. like, i also love going to the parks. Thunder Mountain is so fun. you (just a person) are not responsible for the harm that Disney (the billion dollar corporation) caused me. i don't know. i think it's possible to both enjoy your memories and interrogate the current state of their employment policies.

there is no right way to interrogate or engage with nuance - i just hope you embrace it readily.

#does this make sense #to do be deleted probably yikes #(takes a swing at a wasp's nest)#like i think ppl have started to just be really quiet when they like something 'problematic'#and im like... u can be like -#girl tswift NEEDS to just TAKE A BUS . LIKE?????????????????????#while also being like.#''she's a lot of fun''#if ur personal policy is that u don't support her for that reason that's great #but it's like. eating meat???#like yeah some people won't bc the environment. but the fact i eat meat doesn't mean i hate the earth #like i can say that i think the meat industry is HORRIFIC and also downright cruel to its employees #but like. still enjoy a chicken nugget....#there are people who choose otherwise. it's okay . we are people. i make like no money. u probably don't either #us fighting about whether or not it's Right To Eat The Chicken Tender just distracts from like.#actually turning your ire on the corporation #i hope it's clear what i'm saying here is like. when we fight each other for Purity Reasons #we are just doing the work of corporations . for free. like they WANT us to be doing this lol #it's the fucking DREAM of the upperclass that now ALL forms of responsibility fall on the individual

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littlebittyhollowbugs · 5 months ago

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I will never love any interpretation of Ghost, Hollow and Hornet more than I love the interpretation of them being ultimately good, fighting for peace for everyone around them, caring deeply for Hallownest (or what remains of Hallownest at least) and caring deeply for each other and peace for their family at last.

I love kind Ghost.

Ghost who goes out of the way to gift flowers to lonely bugs.

Ghost who will rescue Zote whenever given the opportunity, without thanks or any form of reward.

Ghost who rescues grubs because they are trapped and crying to be freed.

Ghost who despite having limited ability of expression, will find some way to convey appreciation for others. (Sitting beside them. Listening to them talk or sing. Bowing out of respect.)

Ghost who is excited when in the company of good friends.

Ghost who spares the life of the nailsmith.

Ghost who mourns the loss of those fallen.

Ghost who eventually remembers their past, remembers being abandoned by their sibling, and still chooses to fight, to do everything that it takes, to free the hollow knight. To put an end to their suffering. To take Hollow's place, or to die.

There is no reward for this. There is nothing to gain. Ultimately Ghost is willing to suffer forever or to die in order to give others peace.

Ghost makes many many mistakes, and can make selfish or reckless decisions, but ultimately, Ghost is forgiving and loving.

I love Hollow who genuinely wants the people of Hallownest to be at peace. (Ironically just wanting that alone made it impossible for Hollow to grant them that peace.

But still, Hollow wants that.)

Hollow who loves Hallownest. Who loves their father and who loves his kingdom.

Hollow who is relentless in protecting it. Who would suffer for over a hundred years protecting whatever there is that can possibly be saved.

Hollow who has had the radiance influencing it all that time. The radiance who hates the king, who hates his people. Who tried to convince it to hate them to.

Hollow who loves them regardless.

Who feels empathy for everyone. Who understands their suffering more than anyone and wants nothing more than for them to have peace.

Hollow who, after finally being freed, chooses to live a kind life. To be understanding and gentle.

Who has every right to be bitter and angry and closed off, but who, after finally receiving the opportunity to live, to actually live, chooses to find everything good left in the world that they fought so hard for.

Hollow who learns to love openly and to no longer be afraid.

Hollow who is eventually excited to be able to express love in small ways.

Hollow is stalwart and just. But kind.

Hornet who, despite everything that she went through, despite losing so much, nearly everything, continues to stand and to fight for life because it still matters to her.

Hornet who fights to honor those that she lost, especially her mother.

Hornet who is hesitant to be hopeful, but is hopeful anyway.

Hornet who is hesitant to form any friendships out of fear that she will lose them, But who longs for friendship, for family..

Hornet who is proud of her siblings, who loves them despite not wanting to, who feels guilt knowing that the fate of the kingdom must rely on them.

Hornet who will rush in to assist her siblings in their final battle, knowing that she may very well die.

Hornet who, after given the opportunity to be with her siblings again, wants nothing more than to help them heal. For them all to heal.

Hornet who loves and is loved in return.

Ghost and Hollow who love, and are loved in return.

A little broken family that understands each other, understands that nothing that happened to any of them was fair, and who forgive each other, who love each other because after all this time..

They finally can.

Not one of them is without their (sometimes severe) flaws. Not one of them isn't damaged after everything that has happened.

And still they choose love.

This quote by Mary Shelley captures my interpretations of the siblings perfectly.~

"Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it”

#I wrote this at 3 AM #No joke I woke up at 3 AM and somehow I ended up with this in my notes so I hope it makes sense #lol #I have been seeing a lot of different interpretations of each of these characters lately and I wanted to get mine out there i guess #It's interesting hearing other takes on these three.#But this is them #To me #its all about love for me guys #That's what's it's all about #hollow knight #hk hornet #hk ghost #hk thk #hk the knight #hk little ghost #hk the pure vessel #hk pv #hk thoughts

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heph · 5 months ago

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It's so interesting how submissive House is to Wilson. In basically every scene where Wilson gives his 2 cents about a case, House without fail (for the most part) follows his opinion. Wilson gives him unsolicited advice and half the time he listens without saying anything, and the other half he argues but ends up listening to him anyway. House starts psychoanalysing Wilson and Wilson does it right back to him and House shuts the fuck up or gives a one line quip back at him (to have the last line) but knows deep down Wilson is right.

For a man of House's stature and how he interacts with Literally Everyone Else, the writers really hammer it into your soul that House only really listens to Wilson and no one else

#i only really started noticing this after the “i am in charge of our relationship” scene and LIKE #ITS TRUE!!! WILSON IS VERY MUCH IN CHARGE #hes wrangling his little scruffy stray kitten and hes doing his best #house cannot be controlled but wilson fucking tries and is the only one who succeeds sometimes #as for things like vicodin #i think house doesnt listen to wilson for that because its a coping mechanism #its his only solace that takes away a deeply traumatic incident that happened to him #it is the only bit of control he has over that incident #and hes not gonna just let go of it #and because he doesnt mind dying a little or a lot sometimes he wont just give it up bc its hurting him #hilson #house md #heph.txt #m super sleepy rn i hope my words make sense #n i hope my text posts arent starting to get annoying bc i have so many thoughts and every time it strikes me it goes on Tumblr

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mazojo · 2 years ago

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Anyways XO Kitty love interests summarized

Dae

Min Ho

Yuri

#I finished it guys I have thoughts #pleasantly…. surprised I actually enjoyed it a lot?#like don’t get me wrong it was very cringe fail at times but in like an affectionate way in like an aw high school affectionate #bet y’all can’t tell by this post which my favorite LI was I bet y’all can’t guess take a guess #ranking wise Yuri>Min Ho>Dae #I am so sorry Dae is so aksjskw boringgg and like not even because he is a nice guy I love nice guys #he just didn’t have any personality whatsoever apart from chasing Kitty around and saying I can explain #they could have swelled more into him being a family guy but they just kinda didn’t and it was very meh overall #like min ho was an ass but kinda funny at times and had a whole character arc #yuri had a whole development too going full circle and growing as she faced different situations in the series #dae I feel like he started the same way he finished and I guess that makes sense for the plot showing Kitty needs something else but defo #makes him the weakest li. no criticism taken btw #SHUT ME UP ITS 4 AM AND I AM PSYCHOANALYSING A KIDS SHOW AKSJWKKW therapeutic #xo kitty #I hope this doesn’t offend anyone lol all /lh #dae #min ho #yuri

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demigod-of-the-agni · 9 months ago

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Spider-Man India, but... where from India?

A SUPER long post featuring talks of: cultural identity, characterisation, the caste system, and what makes Spider-Man Spider-Man.

I’m prefacing this by saying that I am a second-generation immigrant. I was born in Australia, but my cultural background is from South India. My experiences with what it means to be “Indian” is going to be very different from the experiences of those who are born and brought up in India.

If you, reader, want to add anything, please reblog and add your thoughts. This is meant to be a post open for discussion — the more interaction we get, the better we become aware of these nuances.

So I made this poll asking folks to pick a region of India where I would draw Pavitr Prabhakar in their cultural wear. This idea had been on my mind for a long while now, as I had been inspired by Annie Hazarika’s Northeastern Spidey artwork in the wake of ATSV’s release, but never got the time to actually do it until now. I wanted to get a little interactive and made the poll so I could have people choose which of the different regions — North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South — to do first.

The outcome was not what I expected. As you can see, out of 83 votes:

THE RESULTS

South India takes up almost half of all votes (44.6%), followed by Northeast and Central (both 14.5%) and then East (13.3%). In all my life growing up, support towards or even just the awareness of South India was pretty low. Despite this being a very contained poll, why would nearly half of all voters pick South India in favour of other popular choices like Central or North India?

Then I thought about the layout of the poll: Title, Options, Context.

Title: "Tell us who you want to see…"

Options: North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South

Context: I want to make art of the boy again

At first I thought: ah geez. this is my fault. I didn't make the poll clear enough. do they think I want them to figure out where Pavitr came from? That's not what I wanted, maybe I should have added the context before the options.

Then I thought: ah geez. is it my fault for people not reading the entire damn thing before clicking a button? That's pretty stupid.

But regardless, the thought did prompt a line of thinking I know many of us desi folk have been considering since Spider-Man India was first conceived — or, at least, since the announcement that he was going to appear in ATSV. Hell, even I thought of it:

Where did Spider-Man India come from?

FROM A CULTURALLY DIVERSE INDIA

As we know, India is so culturally diverse, and no doubt ATSV creators had to take that into account. Because the ORIGINAL Spider-Man India came from Mumbai — most likely because Mumbai and Manhattan both started with the same letter.

But going beyond that, it’s also because Mumbai is one of the most recognisable cities in India - it’s also known as Bombay. It’s where Bollywood films are shot. It’s where superstar Hindi actors and actresses show up. Mumbai is synonymous with India in that regard, because the easiest way Western countries can interact with Indian culture is through BOLLYWOOD, through HINDI FILMS, through MUMBAI. Suddenly, India is Mumbai, India is a Hindi-only country, India is just this isolated thing we see through an infinitely narrow lens.

We’ve gotten a little better in recent years, but boy I will tell you how uncomfortable I’ve gotten when people (yes, even desi people) come up to me and tell me, Oh, you’re Indian right? Can you speak Hindi? Why don’t you speak Hindi? You’re not Indian if you don’t speak Hindi, that’s India’s national language!

I have been — still am — so afraid of telling people that I don’t speak Hindi, that I’m Tamil, that I don’t care that Hindi is India’s “national” language (it’s an administrative language, Kavin, get your fucking facts right). It’s weird, it’s isolating, and it has made me feel like I wasn’t “Indian” enough to be accepted into the group of “Indian” people.

So I am thankful that ATSV went out of their way to integrate as much variety of Indian culture into the Mumbattan sequence. Maybe that way, the younger generation of desi folk won’t feel so isolated, and that younger Western people will be more open to learning about all these cultural differences within such a vast country.

BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH SPIDER-MAN INDIA?

Everything, actually. There’s a thing called supremacy. You might have heard of it. We all engaged with it at some point, and if you are Indian, no matter where you live, it is inescapable.

It happens the moment you are born — who your family is, where you are born, the language you speak, the colour of your skin; these will be bound to you for life, and it is nigh impossible to break down the stereotypes associated with them.

Certain ethnic groups will be more favourable than others (Centrals, and thus their cultures, will always be favoured over than Souths, as an example) and the same can be said for social groups (Brahmins are more likely to secure influential roles in politics or other areas like priesthood, while the lowers castes, especially Dalits, aren’t even given the decency of respect). Don’t even get me started on colourism, where obviously those of fairer skin will win the lottery while those of darker skin aren’t given the time of day. It’s even worse when morality ties into it — “lighter skinned Indians, like Brahmins, embody good qualities like justice and wisdom”, “dark skinned Indians are cunning and poor, they are untrustworthy”. It’s fucking nuts.

This means, of course, you have a billion people trying to make themselves heard in a system that tries to crush everyone who is not privileged. It only makes sense that people want to elevate themselves and break free from a society that refuses to acknowledge them. These frustrations manifest outwardly, like in protests, but other times — most times — it goes unheard, quietly shaping your way of life, your way of thinking. It becomes a fundamental part of you, and it can go unacknowledged for generations.

So when you have a character like Pavitr Prabhakar enter the scene, people immediately latch onto him and start asking questions many Western audiences don’t even consider. Who is he? What food does he eat? What does he do on Fridays? What’s his family like, his community? All these questions pop up, because, amidst all this turmoil going on in the background, you want a mainstream popular character to be like you, who knows your way of life so intimately, that he may as well be a part of your community.

BUT THAT'S THE THING — HE'S FICTIONAL

I am guilty of this. In fact, I’ve flaunted in numerous posts how I think he’s the perfect Tamil boy, how he dances bharatanatyam, how he does all these Tamil things that no one will understand except myself. All these niche things that only I, and maybe a few others, will understand.

I’ve seen other people do it, too. I’ve seen people geek out over his dark brown skin, his kalari dhoti, how he fights so effortlessly in the kalaripayattu martial arts style. I’ve seen people write him as Malayali, as Hindi, as every kind of Indian person imaginable.

I’ve also seen him be written where he’s subjected to typical Indian and broader Asian stereotypes. You know the ones I’m so fond of calling out. The thing is, I’ve seen so much of Pavitr being presented in so many different ways, and I worry how the rest of the desi folk will take it.

You finally have a character who could be you, but now he’s someone else’s plaything. Your entire life is shaped by what you can and can’t do simply because you were born to an Indian family, and here’s the one person who could represent you now at the mercy of someone else’s whims. He’s off living a life that is so distant from yours, you can hardly recognise him.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, yeah? But, again, you’re looking at it from that infinitely narrow lens Westerners use to look at India from Bollywood.

AND PAVITR PRABHAKAR DOESN'T LIVE IN INDIA

He lives in Mumbattan. He lives in a made-up, fictional world that doesn’t follow the way of life of our world. He lives in a city where Mumbai and Manhattan got fucking squashed together. There are so many memes about colonialism right there. Mumbattan isn’t real! Spider-Man India isn’t real!! He’s just a dude!! The logic of our world doesn’t apply to him!!!

“But his surname originates from ______” okay but does that matter?

“But he’s wearing a kalari dhoti so surely he’s ______” okay but does that matter?

“But his skin colour is darker so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?

“But he lives in Mumbai so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?

I sound insensitive and brash and annoying and it looks like I’m yapping just for the sake of riling you up, so direct that little burst of anger you got there at me, and keep reading.

Listen. I’m going to ask you a question that I’ve asked myself a million times over. I want you to answer honestly. I want you to ask this question to yourself and answer honestly:

Are you trying to convince me on who Pavitr Prabhakar should be?

... but why shouldn't i?

I’ll tell you this again — I did the same thing. You’re not at fault for this, but I want you to just...have a little think over. Just a little moment of self-reflection, to think about why you are so intent on boxing this guy.

It took me a while to reorganise my thinking and how to best approach a character like Pavitr, so I will give you all the time you need as well as a little springboard to focus your thoughts on.

SPIDER-MAN (INDIA) IS JUST A MASK

“What I like about the costume is that anybody reading Spider-Man in any part of the world can imagine that they themselves are under the costume. And that’s a good thing.”

Stan Lee said that. Remember how he was so intent on making sure that everybody got the idea that Spider-Man as an entity is fundamentally broken without Peter Parker there to put on the suit and save the day? That ultimately it was the person beneath the mask, no matter who they were, that mattered most?

Spider-Man India is no less different. You can argue with me that Peter Parker!Spidey is supposed to represent working class struggles in the face of leering corporate entities who endanger the regular folk like us, and so Pavitr Prabhakar should also function the same way. Pavitr should also be a working class guy of this specific social standing fighting people of this other social standing.

But that takes away the authenticity of Spider-Man India. Looking at him through the Peter Parker lens forces you to look at him through the Western lens, and it significantly lessens what you can do with the character — suddenly, it’s a fight to be heard, to be seen, to be recognised. It’s yelling over each other that Pavitr Prabhakar is this ethnicity, is that caste, this or that, this or that, this or that.

There’s a reason why he’s called Spider-Man India, infuriatingly vague as it is. And that’s the point — the vagueness of his identity fulfils Lee’s purpose for a character that could theoretically be embodied by anyone. If he had been called “Spider-Man Mumbai”, you cut out a majority of the population (and in capitalist terms, you cut out a good chunk of the market).

And in the case of Spider-Man India? Whew — you’ve got about a billion people imagining a billion different versions of him.

Whoever you are, whatever you see in Pavitr, that is what is personal to you, and there is nothing wrong with that, and I will not fault you for it. I will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from Central due to the origins of his last name. I also will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from South due to him practising kalaripayattu. I also will not fault you for saying he is not Hindu. I also will not fault you for saying he is a particular ethnicity without any proof.

What I will fault you for is trying to convince me and the others around you that Pavitr Prabhakar should be this particular ethnicity/have this cultural background because of some specific reason. I literally don’t care and it is fundamentally going against his character, going against the “anyone can wear the mask” sentiment of Spider-Man. By doing this, you are strengthening the walls that first divided us. You’re feeding the stratification and segmentation of our cultures — something that is actually not present in the fictional world of Mumbattan.

Like I said before: Mumbattan isn’t real, so the divides between ethnicities and cultural backgrounds are practically nonexistent. The best thing is that it is visually there for all to see. My favourite piece of evidence is this:

It’s a marquee for a cinema in the Mumbattan sequence, in the “Quick tour: this is where the traffic is” section. It has four titles; the first two are written in Hindi. The third title is written in Bengali*, and the fourth title is written in Tamil. You go to Mumbai and you won’t see a single shred of Bengali nor Tamil there, much less any other language that's not common in Maharashtra (Western India). Seeing this for the first time, you know what went through my head?

Wow, the numerous cultures of India are so intermingled here in Mumbattan! Everyone and everything is welcome!

I was happy, not just because of Tamil representation, but because of the fact that the plethora of Indian cultures are showcased coexisting in such a short sequence. This is India embracing all the little parts that make up its grander identity. This scene literally opened my eyes seeing such beauty in all the diverse cultures thriving together. In a place where language and cultural backgrounds blend so easily, each one complementing one another.

It is so easy to believe that, from this colourful palette of a setting, Pavitr Prabhakar truly is Spider-Man India, no matter where he comes from.

It’s easy to believe that Pavitr can come from any part of India, and I won’t call you out if the origin you have for him is different from the origin I have. You don’t need to stake out territory and stand your ground — you’re entitled to that opinion, and I respect it. In fact, I encourage it!!!

Because there’s only so much you can show in a ten minute segment of a film about a country that has such a vast history and even greater number of cultures. I want to see all of it — I want him to be a Malayali boy, a Hindi boy, a Bengali boy, a Telugu boy, an Urdu boy, whatever!! I want you to write him or draw him immersed in your culture, so that I can see the beauty of your background, the wonderful little things that make your culture unique and different from mine!

And, as many friends have said, it’s so common for Indian folks to be migrating around within our own country. A person with a Maharashtrian surname might end up living in Punjab, and no one really minds that. I’m actually from Karnataka, my family speaks Kannada, but somewhere down the line my ancestors moved to Tamil Nadu and settled down and lived very fulfilling lives. So I don’t actually have the “pure Tamil” upbringing, contrary to popular belief; I’ve gotten a mix of both Kannada and Tamil lifestyles, and it’s made my life that much richer.

So it’s common for people to “not” look like their surname, if that’s what you’re really afraid about. In fact, it just adds to that layer of nuance, that even despite these rigid identities between ethnicities we as Indian people still intermingle with one another, bringing slivers of our cultures to share with others. Pavitr could just as well have been born in one state and moved around the country, and he happens to live in Mumbattan now. It’s entirely possible and there’s nothing to disprove that.

We don’t need to clamber over one another declaring that only one ethnicity is the “right” ethnicity, because, again, you will be looking at Pavitr and the rest of India in that narrow Western lens — a country with such rich cultural variety reduced to a homogenous restrictive way of life.

THE POLL: REINTERPRETED

This whole thing started because I was wondering why my little poll was so skewed — I thought people assumed I was asking them where he came from, then paired his physical appearance with the most logical options available. I thought it was my fault, that I had somehow influenced this outcome without knowing.

Truth is, I will never really know. But I will be thankful for it, because it gave me the opportunity to finally broach this topic, something that many of us desi folk are hesitant to talk about. I hope you have learned something from this, whether you are desi or a casual Spider-Man fan or someone who just so happened to stumble upon this.

So just…be a little more open. Recognise that India, like many many countries and nations, is made up of a plethora of smaller cultures. And remember, if you’re trying to convince Pavitr that he’s a particular ethnicity, he’s going to wave his hand at you and say, “Ha, me? No, I’m one of the people that live here in the best Indian city! I’m Spider-Man India, dost!”

(Regardless, he still considers you a friend, because to him, the people matter more to him than you trying to box him into something he’s not.)

*Note: thank you dear anon for letting me know that the third title was Bengali, twas my mistake for literally completely forgetting

#long post + more tags that kinda spiral away BUT expand on the points above AND kinda puts everything together concisely #BROS THIS IS AN HONEST TO GOD ESSAY #THAT HAS BEEN COOKING IN MY HEART FOR A WHILE NOW. SIMMERING FOR MONTHS BEFORE FINALLY BOILING OVER IN THE LAST WEEK #genuinely hope you read MOST of it because yes it has Quite A Lot Of Exposition but it all matters nonetheless #put in a lot of thought into this so i expect you to do your part and challenge your thoughts as well #you see how i'm not asking for you to listen to me. but to actually Think. i want you to cook your thoughts and add some spice and flavour #and give it a good mix so you can come out of this a little more wiser than before #because!!! yeah!!!! spider man india is just that!! he's indian!!!!! we don't need to collectively agree on where he comes from #bc it gets rid of that relatability factor of spider man. at the most basic level #think of it as a schrodinger's. he is every single culture and none of them at the same time. therefore none of us are wrong!! sick!!!!#pavitr's first priority is making sure HIS PEOPLE are safe. that's probably as far as we can go that relates him back to peter parker spide #he loves his people and working in the name of justice to FIGHT for HIS PEOPLE is just the duty/responsibility he takes up #it makes sense that he loves everyone and every culture he engages with bc that's the nature of spider man i suppose #if peter parker spidey acts as the guardian for the regular folk.. then in my mind pavitr spidey stands as the bridge uniting the people #because society as its core is very fragmented. and having pavitr act as a connection to other folks.... mmmmm beautiful #that's what i'm talking abouttttt !!!#anyways guys this is literally 3001 words on my document EXCLUDING THE TITLE. THAT'S 7 PAGES AT 11pt FONT. i'm literally cryingggg wtf #pavitr prabhakar #spider man #spider man india #desi #desiblr #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv pavitr #indian culture #india #desi tumblr #what the fuck do i tag this as #agnirambles

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langfield · 10 days ago

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do you think vinh was actually in love with safi? i know he starts doubting that he ever was in chapter 5, but if he wasn’t actually in love what do you think his true feelings for her were? emotional attachment maybe? on safi’s side, i think it’s interesting how even after knowing about vinh’s statement about maya she still decides to hook up with him for a time (only to eventually stop sometime prior to the game?? maybe they had another falling out idk). their relationship in general is just very fascinating to me lmao.

god, the safi-vinh dynamic is certainly one filled with intrigue because of all the intense emotions attached to the people within it ; aimed at each other and also at the bystanders whom haunted around their not so defined relationship. there’s just so much baggage attached to them, you know? mostly painful things and a general sense of betrayal or regret, creating a potion of this general wishy washy bullshit that’s hard to parse through … more so in safi’s case than vinh’s, but i’ll touch upon that later! as for your question about vinh and his true feelings, well.

maybe he was in love with safi once upon a time. maybe the fact he believed that he was in love with her is really all that matters. i suppose it depends on what your definition of romantic love and utter devotion is. it’s undeniable he cared fiercely for safi, enough so to become jealous of max ( safi’s object of obsession ), swear off serious relationships in hope she’d want him back, and to engage in a general meddling within her life to make sure she comes out of situations as unscathed as possible. i mean, he schemes to steal a cow skull and then proceeds to throw it through her windshield in an attempt to save yasmin’s and safi’s relationship … it is very extra of him to do, in fact it’s a literal crime, and the game has both max and safi acknowledge the intensity of said action in episode four. we see the memory of the hedgehog he proudly displays on his desk, the carelessness in which safi treats it, her ‘i’ll buy you another one if it breaks’, and how vinh simpers beneath that offer because he doen’t want a new one, he wants this one, the one safi gave him : a gift that was likely unprompted, some sort of surprise maybe, given to him on a whim and cherished better than any other possession he owns. we also see how he breaks it when she dies. then there’s photos upon photos of safi on his phone and it’s implied he takes pictures after they sleep together and -- that isn’t even touching upon how he practically gives up on himself after her death. the mask drops, he starts trying to branch out and find acting gigs elsewhere, wanting to leave caledon forever, and there’s a sense of raw anger and loneliness he feels when she’s gone. he stops hooking up and pushes everyone away besides max, whom he clings to, and it’s a lot, right? there’s love there. obsession, probably. in many ways he’s still the ‘puppy’ following safi around like gwen said, only without maya this time. he waits and stews and he wants, certainly, for her to love him … but was it purely romantic love? who’s to say!

i think vinh wanted safi as his girlfriend before, maybe when things weren’t so tense, and he still believed that fiercely even when he stopped wanting it. i don’t think he knew where his feelings started to dwindle into something less excited and more resigned, or when he started looking for someone else. his priority remained with safi and with yasmin and thus there wasn’t a lot of time to dissect his heart, a rather vulnerable act he already struggles with anyway. he’s a repressive sort of man. he doesn’t do a lot of introspection because he has an act to maintain, a reputation to follow. but i do believe that by the time double exposure takes place, vinh’s love for safi has indeed shifted because his attraction to max veers on something that isn’t purely sexual. there is an undeniable interest, both in dead and living world, that he’s either embracing or squirming away from … i do not think vinh had many crushes at all when he was in love with safi. i don’t think he allowed himself that luxury, because he didn’t want to move on from her, or put himself off the market in case she wanted him again, in bed or in some profound, loving sense. lots of waiting. lots of surrendering, ‘she’ll come around, we’ll make up’, and hoping despite himself. so his romance with max proves to me that vinh is somewhat right in saying ‘or i thought i was’ when talking about safi and being in love with her, because he was before, but he isn’t exactly in love with her now, if that makes sense? i’d say an emotional attachment is a good title for what they have by the time of the games events.

( i do not wish to diminish vinh’s feelings, but i also think there’s a case to be made that he was rather desperate when he thought himself in love with safi ; there was a lot of insecurity within him back when he was a student, weighed down by the fact he was poor and not your standard run-of-the-mill white man … as an adult he scoffs at his acting abilities and wields his power as head of abraxas with a rather tight fist, as though it’s the only control he’s ever had before. it’s rather clear his only two friends were safi and maya and that vinh hasn’t had any since them -- was desperate to stay on their heels despite the fact he was never really apart of whatever they had. it’s not a stretch to speculate that vinh was, perhaps, a cocktail mix of loneliness and desperation rather than strictly in love with safi. maybe confused his all-consuming need to be around her as desire, or maybe just enjoyed feeling wanted by safi enough to mix his wires. after all, why was it safi he was in love with and not maya? vinh also uses sex as a means of coping, as seen by his rather active sex life in game via hookup apps and reggie, so maybe his sex with safi was just that. coping. in it’s own way. regardless, he did love her, or so he thinks so, and to me i think that’s enough, speculation aside )

safiya’s side of things is much more difficult than vinh’s, who is more obvious about his feelings towards her than he thinks he is. there are some brief contradictions, like how it’s stated that safi doesn’t care for vinh ( which is true ) and yet she also acknowledges that when she split apart and lost herself, all that was left of her was moses, lucas, gwen, and vinh. we know that moses and gwen matter to safi, or mattered, and that at one point safi might’ve admired lucas … so where does that leave vinh? if she doesn’t hate him like gwen or lucas now, and if she doesn’t cherish him like moses or max, why is he still apart of her? what does that mean? is it just a metaphor for their times with maya, and how safi will always be connected to that past with vinh because of her love for the caledon’s personal dead girl? was her sleeping with vinh about maya too? or did she actually care for vinh once, albeit weakly and casually, and did that fleeting moment of affection count when she vanished into everyone who’s ever thoroughly affected her life? and, as you said, it’s so fascinating that she hooks up with vinh at all post maya death … it feels strange and odd and unlike her. even in their intimate picture together after fooling around she is nothing but angry, disinterested, her underwear and bra are already back on ( if they were ever off at all? ) and while that’s on account of safi just hating photos, i also think it’s a testament to how irritable she finds vinh’s presence when stuck in it. it’s not a happy photo really, even vinh’s expression is a little red-eyed, forced, like he was likely wasted the night prior. i wouldn’t be surprised if safi was only able to be with vinh if she was … you know … literally out of her mind drunk or high or what have you.

though, that’s just speculation of course. my vague take on things is that safi went to vinh whenever she was partied out or if she was feeling particularly destructive that day ; choked with self loathing over her mom or maya and so sex with vinh was a means for her to feel even worse. some sort of self harm, some sort of outlet where she could be particularly cruel and evil without consequence, because vinh would take it and roll over -- could even be her way of controlling things too, like vinh with abraxas, because we know vinh has no issues with being led around in the bedroom, so that’s some food for thought. i don’t think she thinks about it after or remembers it much … she really doesn’t think about vinh unless it suits her or if she needs to. i always notice how, in episode four, safiya immediately knows what max is talking about when she asks if safi’s ever transformed into amanda, gwen, or lucas. she owns up immediately, confesses, and understands intimately what situation max is referring to. but when max asks about vinh and the phone, there is a brief moment where safi just stares blankly at her -- like she’s thinking about it, like she doesn’t even remember, before it finally clicks after a beat. either she wears vinh’s metaphorical skin a lot ( which, to be fair, she does pretend to be vinh a lot in game ) or she literally thinks of him so little she’ll forget everything about him in minutes. both are likely! she doesn’t even recall what type of alcohol he likes, calling it bougie japanese brandy ‘or whatever’ … and can’t be assed to remember his phone’s pin number exactly, only vague details about a magician scientist that she clearly thought was boring and lame when vinh told her said story, if her hostility and complete forgetfulness is anything to go by. for me, it’s easy to get caught up in a ‘safi did care! she had to!’ angle about vinh, although the game repeatedly shows you over and over again that she does not. she doesn’t even care that max kissed him really, if anything, she’s more jealous of vinh being with max given some of her remarks :

( i know, technically, safi’s ‘come again?’ is more nervous than jealous per se … but there is a certain air to it, especially given the ‘i can be your new boyfriend’ comment as seen above lol. if she loves max and doesn’t care for vinh, i can only imagine how she’d feel about their romance in particular! )

and, of course, there’s that part in episode four where safi can disguise herself as vinh in order to tear lucas a new one. i enjoy that part for many reasons! seeing how safi feels so much more comfortable in someone else’s skin than her own is fascinating and makes for good foreshadowing … but there is also the reveal of her opinions on vinh, unabashed and shameless, when she is finally giving him an ounce of thought :

it’s interesting! she doesn’t care for him, really, doesn’t loathe him like lucas or gwen or her own mother, but there’s a level of vitriol regardless. she thinks him fake. she thinks him a coward. she thinks he’s scared of facing consequences and that he only acts in his own self interest and she hates every bit of that. while safi can confess to doing maya wrong and hating herself for it, she never allows vinh that same courtesy. even says as much to max, claiming that only she had the humanity to regret her choice while vinh apparently didn’t. and yet … she doesn’t hate him? doesn’t feel strongly towards him? he’s still apart of her, a large part, and she can get along with him fine on crosstalk if she so pleases and she can hate his guts but, when the raw truth is revealed, she apparently feels nothing towards him at all? it is fascinating to think about is all. how she doesn’t wish him dead but doesn’t care if he’s alive either despite everything they’ve been through, even though she hates gwen and lucas and her mother more. it’s rather mean, though that’s what makes it so complex and interesting. it shows that safi only ever cares ( and oh, does she care fiercely, obsessively ) for a very slim group of people, and that when push comes to shove, everyone else can fend for themselves for all she cares. she would protect moses and max in a heartbeat, without thought, and the piece of her within them tries valiantly to keep them safe by locking them away from the world ( another thing to dissect, certainly! ), but she doesn’t really extend such empathy towards the innocents caught in her crossfire. she may be tormenting lucas and gwen specifically, but everyone else was going to be collateral damage and safi was fine with that. at least a little bit. vinh falls in that category of inevitable damage, i think, despite their closeness and despite their history, and you can tell that’s what really wounds him at the end of things. safi couldn’t even torment him, didn’t have the want or energy to do so, he was valiantly apart of her and safi didn’t even care about that. very interesting! it’s also heartbreaking in many ways to see two people who should’ve been able to lean on each other, who should’ve loved one another, be nothing but strangers at the end of things. an example of how tragedy doesn’t always bring people closer. sometimes it drives you worlds apart from the one you should be grieving with, which can be seen in other life is strange games, most notably with chloe and joyce, i think.

anyway! tldr : it’s complicated and worth exploring. there are many ways you can interpret their relationship and i highly encourage everyone to find what angle is most interesting to them! and i don’t blame you for finding their dynamic fascinating because it’s easily one of my favorites in double exposure … i don’t think of it often, but it’s always lingering in the back of my mind. regardless, i hope this word vomit is helpful! if i brought up more questions than answers, i do apologize. but thank you so much for such a fun question <3 it was an absolute blast, and tickled my brain enough to pump this out asap.

#my asks.#life is strange double exposure #vinh lang #safiya llewellyn fayyad #ohhhh these two. THESE TWO!!!! i genuinely have no clue what’s going on with them #but there’s a palpable sense of pain no matter how you swing their dynamic and i love it #lots of yearning and dismissal and an ache you know? hate. betrayal. love. obsession …#you could name the feelings between them but putting an actual label on things is what’s most difficult #which. ironically. fits their relationship in its entirety haha #many thoughts and feelings — i just hope this captures even a sliver of them anon!!!#i will also say i tentatively think safi and vinh slept together before maya’s death at LEAST one time #because that makes sense as to why safi would be more inclined to do it again. even after #i also think she stopped after max came into the picture. as vinh words it ‘she was obsessed’ with max #and never stopped talking about her … so i think she stopped with vinh entirely. she’s so far up max’s ass she stops having time for him #or something like that. lol #ANYWAY! i do think vinh loved safi and i do think four years ago safi at least cared for vinh #but she certainly doesn’t anymore. and though he’ll always love her i don’t think it’s romantic anymore either #that’s my take!!! as bland as can be!!!!#thank you sm again !!!

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