#SOB SHE LOOKS LIKE THOSE ANIME CHARACTERS

[aby55-of-the-ab5o1ute]

ERM ASHUALLY

[0luv9]

forlorn || mattheo riddle

Summary: based on this request.

Beware: angst, fluff, slightly aged-up characters, Hufflepuff reader, sweet reader, she/her pronouns used, mostly in second person, jealousy, mistreatment, a little bit of blood, slightly commanding(?) and intimidating Mattheo.

Words: 7.8k (not beta read)

Note: I am sorry luv, I don't think I did justice to the request. I also apologize for taking so long. I still hope you like it, even if it's just a bit. @cat-loves-music

Mattheo Riddle, son of Voldemort, or Tom Riddle if you will—for a more humane approach. But then, there's no humanity in the way he's treated. Always an outsider, always a monster.

There is wealth to his name; after all, he is the only living heir of Salazar Slytherin. However, his blood is corrupt, shunned by the very people who kissed the steps his baby feet took. Looked down on by the blood supremacists and not accepted by the other side, the "good side."

Even he was tired of the same sob story. He doesn't even need to introduce himself; they already have a preconceived image of him in their minds. He could try to fix his image in an ideal world, but even then, what would he say?

'Hello, everyone, I'm Mattheo Riddle, son of the man who once threatened your lives. Please welcome me with warm hands.'

Too cliché? Yes, but it's true and the only truth he knew.

Riddle didn't even know why the name Riddle was cursed and didn't know what his father did that made everyone's hate transcend generations. What made their hatred justified and his hate a crime? He didn't know until it was too late.

Mattheo was raised by the only living relative of his, his mother's aunt—the one who died recently. The one who kept all this hidden away from him hid all the Hogwarts' letters, raised him like her own, and protected him until her last breath. She loved him but all within the vicinity of the manor. He didn't know the world that existed beyond those walls.

He knew about the world outside only through the books she'd let him read. He thought it would feel liberating to step off the lavish floors onto the rich earth. It was everything but that.

"But Nona, why can't I go outside?" he remembers asking that silly question when he was about nine. What he wouldn't do to get that naivety back.

"Because, my dear, there are people out there who wouldn't like you. There are bad people outside ready to punish you," he also remembers crying when she told him that. He didn't understand why people would hate him. He just wanted to try the chocolate frogs he read about.

He just wanted to talk to all the different animals out there, the same way he could talk to the garden snakes.

"But I didn't do anything wrong, Nona. Tell them that I'm a good boy. I can even give them some of my toys. Will they like me then?" If only it were that easy. His Nona cried for the first time in front of him then, looking at all the toys he had set onto her lap, looking at her with teary eyes, pleading, "I didn't do anything wrong, Nona, I promise."

Mattheo didn't understand her tears back then, but now as he stands all alone, those same tears fall out his eyes. It's useless. "They'll know that someday, moon pie. You aren't wrong. They'll know." They'll know? What a fucking joke.

Mattheo tries to enjoy the view in front of him, you know. But how can he? When his batchmates are out there partying and enjoying life, he's been a lone wolf all his life. Yet in moments like this, he seems to forget his old ways of existing.

There's not much he can do anyway; he's not needed anywhere. In fact, they all want him gone. Finding beauty in small things is hard when misery clings to him. There's self-loathing in the way he thinks about the night and himself. There's nothing positive he can say.

You'd think that he must've gotten used to it all by now. No, he hasn't; it only got worse. At least little Mattheo held hope that people would understand someday or the other. Every bit of hope was destroyed by the very people who would've feared him had his father been alive. In moments like this, he wished he could see the man, live as the son they paint him as.

He'd have someone to lean onto then, someone to call his own. At least his father would've loved him. But this last bit of consolidation too was stolen away from him when he got to know that he was a backup plan for his father. Mattheo Riddle was not supposed to exist. His father wanted to live on forever; he was the last option the so-called Dark Lord had, to produce an heir and have them further his cause, and control his life as Tom lived on his last lifeline.

But all of it died with him. Mattheo promised himself that he would never be the man they all expected him to be, the man they wanted to point fingers at. So, he stayed in line. But then he thinks, sometimes, maybe, what if—you know?

He simply stares up at the brightly lit sky, it's a shame that he's the only one out there to appreciate the scenic beauty because he's physically and mentally incapable of appreciating anything, you can't blame him now, can you?

Cold breeze in mid-August, how fucking ridiculous just like this life of his, so unlike his peers, who were out there partying and having the time of their lives, the music vibrating through the walls was like salt on wounds. He'd like to drink a few and chat with his friends but then again, he hasn't got any. And it's the bitter truth that he's not welcome there, he'd be greeted with nasty looks if he tried to enter any such party, they'd all glance his way like the ominous thing he is. It's times like this when he really contemplates it.

Mattheo looks down from the height he's on, no one would care anyway, the fall will kill him, might just give it an actual try unlike those previous attempts- he's been a coward all his life, never ready to face the extremes of life but he has nothing to protect at the moment, he's come far too long, life was never going to be worth it.

He climbs over the railing onto the brick ledge, sitting down for a moment, to take it all in for the last time ever. Mattheo remembers all the whispers that followed him, the suspicious looks passed along the way, those words of disdain- at the same time the thoughts of a happy life enter his mind, it all feels unattainable, in fact, he's so far gone he can't even picture joy, all he sees is bright colours when he thinks of a happy life.

Mattheo had desperately sought relief all his life, but the pain only worsened with time, it's only reasonable to want to end this feeling of hopelessness. The weight of his family's legacy feels heavy on his shoulders. He slouches over and looks down once again, sighing as his eyes shift to the ring on his finger, the other Gaunt ring, he slowly removes it- a pathetic heir he is, he doesn't deserve it, couldn't live up to the name, disappointing both sides of the world.

Maybe they should have destroyed this along with his father's ring but apparently, his dear sweet Nona thought he could change their fate, change the course of history, change the Gaunt legacy for the better, fuck- he couldn't even try and change people's perception about him. Even in this sense, he's nothing like his predecessors, incapable of leaving a mark, of changing the world, be it for the better or the worse. He's just fucking worthless- he fiddles with the ring as he shifts a bit closer to the edge, ready to let go of it.

"Nice ring," he turns around startled, "Mattheo, isn't it?" not Riddle? He hadn't heard his own name in a long time, no one had directly addressed him in years let alone called him by his first name. It all feels foreign, he simply nods not knowing what to say. "Do you mind if I join you?" you don't wait for a response though and carefully bend and climb through the gaps between the two rails, settling down beside him. "Hi, I'm-" he doesn't hear it, he's too focused on your face, you were dolled up, for the party he thinks, but then why are you here of all places? Was this some kind of prank? He steals a glance back at the entrance and the seemingly empty hallway, to see if anyone is waiting for a reaction.

"You know you shouldn't sit so close to the edge, you might fall down," you grab his forearm urging him to move back, your hand feels warm on his skin, it feels unnatural, his hands are always cold. Even though it's on him for a couple of seconds he can't help the multiple emotions going on about in his mind and before he can sort them out, his mouth decides to act on its own, "Why aren't you at the party?" "Oh-" you look disappointed, and he apologises right away, not wanting to upset the only person who had the decency to talk to him, "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he's quick to defend himself, it's a natural response after all but you only seemed amused, "No, it quite alright, I was just surprised by your voice-" "Is it that bad?" "Gosh no! It's just not what I expected, quite rough, it's nice," you are quick to shut him up, "And about your question, I am annoyed at my friends forcing me to try more drinks and all, I just came up here to relax."

"I can leave if you'd like," you add on as an afterthought, but you really didn't want to go, it was the only place with some peace, unlike the loud corridors and dorms, where you were mad at your friends and were in no mood for a party. "No, it's quite alright, I was just surprised," he tries to lighten the mood, repeating your words jokingly, it works, you laugh and properly look at him instead of the waters ahead.

"Haha so funny," you say in a monotonous voice, trying to act like you didn't just laugh but you can't contain your smile, and he finds it quite beautiful. You look down at the ring between the two of you, "it's a beautiful ring I must say," You compliment it again since he hadn't acknowledged it before. Mattheo thanked you quietly trying to think of a response that might not make you run away from him.

It's been only a few minutes and you've said more nice things to him than he has ever heard in his whole life, it's quite ridiculous when he thinks about it, seemingly you find it quite easy to compliment him. He stays quiet not knowing how to take a compliment, but you don't let the silence continue, you look around trying to find something to talk about and soon enough you start talking and he's glad, "You know about those plants right there?" you point to the shrubs at some distance from the castle walls. Mattheo shakes his head unable to recall if he had seen them before. "It's alright but now that you know, you have something to look forward to this upcoming month!" you smile yet again, cheerful that you have something to share.

"What's special about them?" "It's not the plant itself but the fireflies that live there!" Mattheo tries hard to keep up with your energy and pace, "Why aren't they out now? They aren't migratory, are they?" "That's what makes it special unlike fireflies that are present throughout the summer, these ones light up only for the last week of August," "I'll look forward to it," "You should! I missed it last year and then everyone thought I was lying when I mentioned it." Mattheo frowns, "No one knows about them? Not even the professors?" "The professors would know but it wasn't that serious that I'd take it up to them," Mattheo finds it difficult to relate, he always would let everyone know that he was in the right if the facts favour him because no way in hell would he let anyone see him in the wrong light, he couldn't bear to be in the wrong.

And it slips out his mouth, "I would've argued till they knew I was right," "I don't like arguing though, reminds me of my parents, they parted ways because they argued a lot, so I try to avoid it myself," his lips purse trying to think of an appropriate response, "Anyway, you are in Slytherin right?" it wasn't a question, you just knew, "I'm in Hufflepuff, nice to meet you!" you turn towards him and extend your hand with a smile, he can't help but mirror your smile, "Nice to meet you indeed." Your hand feels soft in his, he was finding it hard to let go but you pull your hand back almost instantly- remembering something, "OH right I forgot, do you like chocolates?" Mattheo was quite taken aback by your energetic self, it was infectious, "Of course you do, it's a silly question, I mean who doesn't like chocolate-" you stop midway and fix him with a scrutinising look, "Unless you are some heartless monster-" "Nah I like chocolate alright," "Good good."

You fish through your jacket's pocket and pull out two chocolate bars, "It's muggle chocolate," you place one in his hand, "Muggle? I've never had muggle candy," Mattheo inspects the small sweet in his hand, "You are missing out then!" you chuckle as you take the wrapper off yours, "I'll eat it tomorrow, thank you," He pockets it and looks ahead with a small smile, tonight's beautiful now that he looks at it.

"You are a muggle born then?" Mattheo can't help but want to know more, because how dare his fucking father go after your lot, "Yep, I was surprised you know? To receive the letter, I thought it was some prank but of course, after a few days I realised how real it was, couldn't have been happier, to be away from home." It's funny because all Mattheo wants to do is go back to the gloomy old mansion and here you were saying the opposite, the stark difference between the two of you was obvious to him.

You ramble on and he listens, it's nothing but enjoyable to listen to mundane stories being narrated with such interest, he finds himself smiling a bit too much, to the point where his face hurts but he doesn't care because you are quite the lovely company to be around.

Muggle-born, the same year as him, Hufflepuff, living with your mom- it's not the best back home he gathers that much. You were angry at your friends and were going to hold a grudge if they didn't apologise. He learned a lot about you in that one hour and learned a few things about him as well, he didn't know he had jokes like that OR you were just too kind to laugh at his bad quips, whatever it was he was grateful because you didn't make him feel bad or like a burden. Mattheo was glad that you were the talkative one and that you didn't expect him to share anything if he wasn't comfortable, also the fact that he didn't want to send you running away by talking more about himself.

He admires the fond smile you wear when you talk, the stars reflect a bit too brightly in your eyes, and he inhales breathing in your scent, it's surreal, the moment. Mattheo didn't quite think properly until you left, wishing him a good night, "it was nice spending time with you, Mattheo!" He wonders if you knew how much it meant to him.

...

He finds out your name the next day and sees you everywhere, it's annoying because he was tired since he couldn't sleep thinking all night about you and now he has to see your face again. Now that he knows you, he can't seem to avoid you, earlier it was easy to be blind but now, everything else seems like a blind spot but you. Or maybe it's that his head is not hanging low, avoiding looking up at people.

Mattheo got over the irritation rather quickly, discreetly looking at you, eyes following every movement of yours. But you don't look at him once, he was just like any other guy to you, the realisation both hurts and feels nice, knowing that you don't demonise him but also the fact that he's no one special either. And maybe, he can live with that.

He notices the large number of people you keep around, you are never alone, always surrounded by a group and you are always the one talking, you are clearly popular. How had he not noticed you before? But then again he knew no one in the school apart from the professors, he never tried to get to know anyone because of course his fate wouldn't allow that.

Mattheo seeks out the solace of the library to keep you out of his mind for a while but the plan doesn't seem to work when he finds the chocolate you gave him in his bag. He simply sighs, knowing that there is no escape, unwarps the sweet and pops it into his mouth, shutting his eyes, and recalls your sweet smile. Warmth takes over his body, it feels nice like this, he has to talk to you once again because that can't be the only interaction he has with you, not when it's all he can think about. He breathes out slowly, staring down at the wrapper and mindlessly reading the information on the back, his jaw tightens as he realizes his stupid pathetic feelings. Mattheo puts the wrapper in his quill case and tries to study with a head full of you.

...

Okay, now it was really starting to bother him, he practically couldn't keep his eyes off you, it's like a spell had charmed him in. He wasn't even trying to be discreet at this point, he downright stared at you from a distance, it was creepy, he was aware of that but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. Mattheo doesn't like this new feeling you've instilled in him, it's sweet and it's fucking uncomfortable. He finds it extremely difficult to get rid of you from his thoughts, so he gives up on trying and lets his mind go on autopilot.

The way you talked to him without any judgement in your eyes that day, the images of you repeated over and over again in his mind. Even when he sees you with someone else he can't help but think you are in front of him telling him a story, with those animated expressions of yours, but then seconds later he comes to his senses and sees the smile that's not directed at him, the one you gave to everyone, him too. He thinks it was your pity, that made you talk to him. He didn't feel like he was burdening you then but now when he thinks of approaching you, he knows he'd be burdening you. Your life looks no different, every day is full of joy, and you aren't smiling any less.

Why would you talk to him of all people? Perhaps, you only talked to him that day because you needed a change of scenery and not because you wanted to, he's wrong in thinking that but he's also deluded. It's the only way he keeps himself at peace, to not see meaning in your words, to not long for your company.

But he's a Riddle after all, some things just run in your blood, he has his eyes set on you and he finds it difficult to look away. New dream of his, and he'd like to have it, no matter how unattainable it feels. Yet he hasn't got a clue, it's all too new, and he doesn't know what to do, he'd like to have a plan but what would the plan even say? Go and talk to her? Yeah, like he's about to embarrass himself in front of her.

...

Your eyes stretch at the sight of him sitting in the library, alone but not in some deserted corner, he had claimed the whole couch in the centre of the room, sitting right in the middle, reading a book leaning back, a frown on his face. He looked intimidating, and to be honest, you were scared of him, the little beer in you that night had given you the courage to approach him, maybe your fate was too kind to let you find him that night but now your nerves were on fire.

It was no secret to you that he had been staring at you the past couple of weeks, but you couldn't understand the look on his face, his jaw was always clenched, eyes narrowed, and not a hint of emotion on his face. Was he mad at you? Was he the planning on-

No. You didn't like to think about it, you didn't want him to be the man they paint him as, he's just a boy, your age, maybe that's another reason why you hadn't approached him. Staying away because you were scared that they'd be right, you'd rather delve into what ifs than actually be heartbroken, your imagination brought you bliss.

But would it really be your mind if it would let you just forget it? You think and think, getting worked up over every little interaction you've had with him. How could he be evil? He talked to you so nicely the other day, even- even though you were a muggle-born, a mud blood. But when you see how he looks at you, you can't help but feel scared.

It really was an intimidating sight, your courage wore thin but you had made up your mind. You approach him cautiously, as you greet him, you start feeling jittery and flushed, "Hey Mattheo."

Mattheo jerked his head up as he heard your voice, surprised, caught off guard in fact, he didn't trust his words just yet so he simply nodded at you, acknowledging your presence, closing the book and setting it aside, all his attention on you. "I came here to study and noticed you," you look around bashfully before continuing, "I just wanted to ask you if you liked the chocolate I gave you the other day, you know the one with dark brown wrapper-" "Yeah I did," He stops you from rambling on, not that he had any problem with it but you clearly seemed nervous, he just wanted to ease your nerves, "Right so-" you quickly pull out a small pack of the chocolate from your sling bag placing it beside him, straightening up, "I'll go then, enjoy-" you are quick to turn away from him, cursing yourself in your mind, blaming yourself for making things more awkward than they already were.

Mattheo stops you in your tracks as he calls you by your name, you turn around, and he speaks in that cold voice of his, "You said you were here to study right?" you nod timidly, clutching onto the straps of your bag, he leans back and with a flick of his wrist, a table and chair are summoned in front of him, "then study," he motions to the chair opposite of him.

You were quite taken aback, you stood there for a bit before actually registering his words, and you quietly sat down, you didn't have it in you to disobey him, he was Mattheo Riddle for fucks sake, he looked and sounded like someone who doesn't take no for an answer.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you carefully sit down, looking down, not meeting his gaze, he couldn't believe it, you obliged his wishes? Mattheo leaned back fully, arms folding as he watched you, brown eyes capturing each detail, amusement crawled over his face as he watched you pull out multiple books all at once, various colourful stationery items sprawled out all over the table. You looked pretty like this, stray strands of hair framing your face, lips pursed in concentration. He knew how creepy he was being, so he opened his book again and tried to read but he simply couldn't not when you were sitting in front of him, he relished your presence and this was so unlike the others, every time he had looked at you- you had been surrounded by people, so it was a sight to behold, only for him to admire. So he did, in secret, glancing up at you, every few seconds.

It's been two hours and not once did he get bored of looking at you, a small smile lingered on his face as you closed your books and looked up at him, "How's that book?" you nod towards the book in his hand- the one he was supposed to be reading, "Good, good" he bites the inside of cheek as he lies through his teeth, "Got everything done?" he sets his book aside, fixing you with a soft stare, "Yes, I just wanted to revise a bit, I forget stuff easily if I don't revise regularly," you tilt your head a bit, his eyes were much softer now, and it made your heart flutter a bit, feeling a lot more comfortable than before, so you do what you usually do when you are comfortable- talk.

"By the way, did you study for the upcoming herbology test?" And before he could answer, you pulled out a piece of paper from your bag, "This is like the holy grail, a senior gave it to me last year, it has all the specifics, of recognising plants and how to make generalised guesses about their uses-" you speak in a hushed voice, slightly leaning over the table, eyes wide as you shared your little secret, "you can have it, I have it memorised haha" You bless him with that pretty smile of yours, pushing the paper towards him, you don't let him refuse the offer and start talking about something else, he gives you a small smile, and it makes your insides turn into mush, you bite your lip trying to contain your smile, eyes shy as you start fiddling with your hands on your lap.

You talked for hours, he was much more open this time, and the conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, it was you who mostly did the talking but he didn't seem to mind he looked more than pleased, he didn't like talking much, it seemed, so you filled in the gaps, made it look so effortless like it was easy talking to him, maybe it was easy for you but to him, it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. You two stopped only when the librarian came in and told you it was curfew time, your eyes widened as you turned to look back at him, an amused smile on your face, both of you got up, walking beside each other, not uttering a word till you were out of the librarian's stern gaze.

"I made you miss dinner-" your eyes widened further as soon as the two of you got out, stepping into the empty hallway, "it's alright, I don't mind," you playfully rolled your eyes at him, he chuckled at your antics, "yeah sure, but your stomach would, but- we can sneak into the kitchens, you know, sneak some food out," you wiggle your eyebrows at him with a sheepish grin on your face, he scoffs in disbelief, a fond smile gracing his face, "something tells me, this isn't your first time sneaking around."

"No, it's not," you chuckle a bit before continuing, "So, are you coming or not?" you purse your lips, looking up at him with doe eyes and he questions your motives right then because there's no way you didn't have a clue about what you were doing, "would be an idiot to say no," he muttered under his breath shaking his head, "I didn't catch that-", "Yes, I am."

You give him a pleased smile, you looked so happy at that moment, he was rooted in his position as you started walking ahead of him, he had to look away to catch his breath, "Merlin" he exhaled, a hand reaching over to his chest to soothe his loud thumping heart, and in that moment he knew he was a goner.

"Mattheo-?" you turned around since you didn't hear him walk with you but soon he rushed to your side the moment you looked back, you gave him another smile as he walked beside you, he looked straight ahead then, you needed to stop doing that because no fucking way- would he be able to let go of you.

You lead him to the kitchen, both of you cautious, well just you- he was having the time of his life, getting a detention would be worth it, just a small price to pay. Mattheo repeatedly stole glances here and there, the moment you entered the kitchen, you grabbed his arm and pulled his painfully slow self in, "gosh- you sure do walk slow," you glare at him, but there's no malice in your eyes, instead they are just amused, you roll your eyes when he just shrugs in response, moving over to the tables. Mattheo just looked at you with fond eyes, he was just trying to buy more time with you by walking slowly and he didn't feel one bit guilty about it, he felt a bit too proud. 

You sigh dramatically before returning to him with a small tray in your hands, "I didn't find anything else, apart from these blueberry muffins," your eyes wander around once more trying to see if you missed something, "usually there's still stuff left, that's weird- oh well, at least we have these," you give him a small defeated smile, setting the tray on the table, shrugging as you felt that muffins weren't worth the effort of sneaking around and that you only troubled him further. Mattheo saw through you and he hated that you were feeling that way, "didn't I mention this to you? I love muffins, especially the blueberry ones." he gave you a small smile, picking up the muffin, taking a bite, "yeah, that's good, way better than the dry vegetable and chicken pies they make." He didn't look at you as he said that, but you smiled, realising what he was trying to do, you wanted to cry, why was he being so considerate? You were now beginning to go down a spiral, of all the times you thought of him in the wrong light, how dare you even think like that? 

Mattheo caught you staring and it was hard for him to control the heat that rose to his cheeks, he cleared his throat, "What? You don't like these? Well, guess they are all for me-" he teased, taking the tray in his hand and started walking away, "Hey! No-" you rushed after him with an amused smile, "I want one too," and the tray was shoved back into your hands, "better not eat all of them, yeah?" he gave you a small cheeky wink, leaning against the table, finishing the muffin in his hand. 

Mattheo offered to walk you back to your dorm, he didn't have to insist much, after all, you wanted to spend time with him too, you easily agreed after a couple of tries. You two walked in comfortable silence, as you neared the Hufflepuff dormitory, you were thinking about how you'd part ways, overthinking about what would be appropriate and in the mix of it, you just gave him an awkward side hug, squeezing his arm a bit before mumbling a quick "goodnight" and rushing in. 

He couldn't believe his eyes, were you blushing? No way, he must be imagining things. Mattheo could still feel your warm touch lingering on his side, the scene playing over and over again in his mind, he wanted to scream out of excitement- he was getting cuteness aggression, had to be it, his fists clenched at his side as he stared at the door, for god knows how long, if he could- he would've squeezed you into a bone-crushing hug, but you were quick, left him speechless. 

He walked back to the Slytherin dorm without any trouble, he closed the door behind himself and leaned back against it, he was pretty sure his skin was burning with all the warmth that was flowing through his veins. Merlin, he was embarrassing! Mattheo sighed contently, a big smile on his face as he replayed the whole day, your smile- 

...

The next few days, you guys didn't talk at all, he was back to staring and this time, when you did catch him in the act, instead of pretending you didn't see him, you gave him a knowing smile and a wave. Lingering looks, and subtle greetings, were sweet, Mattheo was now on a new high, he couldn't get enough. But for some reason, he maintained his distance, he stuck to looking at you from afar, it felt comfortable this way, not wanting to taint your reputation by talking to you in front of others, he'd talk to you if it was only you but you were never alone. 

Mattheo starts seeing life for what it is, when he looks at the trees outside, the castle in its entirety, he feels like he is seeing it for the first time. How had he missed this? He finds himself back at the astronomy tower, he looks at the lake ahead, it was a sight to behold, and he is starting to appreciate the view, these days he didn't care about much, you were all he could think about and you were more than pleasant, it was as if the grey lens of his life was replaced with a coloured one, and it would be foolish to credit anyone else but you for it, and he was fucking grateful for it. The reason he was here was, that it was the end of August, and the fireflies you so damn wished to see would be out tonight, he came here just in the hope that he'll get to see you alone. 

He was zoning out when some movement near the edge of the lake caught his eye, it was you- with a few of your friends, his smile faltered the moment he saw some blonde Hufflepuff dude pull you to his side, slinging a hand over your shoulder, you all walked towards the shrubs and didn't have to wait long before the fireflies lit up and started raising above the shrubs. He was about to leave, he was mad for some reason, really pissed- but then he took another look at you. You were standing a bit behind your friends, who had all their attention on the flies ahead, you seemed sad, looking down, messing with the soil beneath your shoe, hands in your jacket. Mattheo could make out the pout on your face, the deflated shoulders, you then turned to look right where he was, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Your posture straightened immediately, the pretty smile returning to your face as you looked up at the astronomy tower balcony, having spotted him, you waved at him. Mattheo nodded, forearms on the railing as he leaned forward, a smile gracing his features, the anger leaving him. You excitedly pointed at the sky, and he nodded, you turned back around when your friend called you and he couldn't look away, he was staring at you till you left, Mattheo started feeling the warmth creep up to him when he saw you making an effort to steal back glances at him. He felt seen, fucking special- 

...

Mattheo still hadn't talked to you, he couldn't catch you alone really, it was starting to get to him, he longed to hear your voice, hear you talk to him- and yet, he didn't have it in him to approach you in front of others, it would ruin you, you thrived in the company of others, he couldn't snatch that away from you. Maybe if he was a bit more selfish, he'd do it, snatch you away from others, have you all to himself but he wasn't about that life, it was something his father would do, he's sure of it, go after what he wants, not caring what others would think- 

Mattheo feels like passing out when you deliberately look at him just to give him a shy smile, a flushed look on your face. He walks away because he cannot handle looking at you, the urge is too strong, to just take you into his arms, he walks out to the empty hallway, a hand over his chest- it had become a subconscious habit of his, whenever you gave him that smile, the one that felt like it was just reserved for him, yeah that one, he felt like he was in heaven, you sent his heart rate through the roof when you did that, it borderline hurt him since he couldn't do much to satiate this feeling. 

The longing was etched into his eyes when he looked at you, one thing he realised was, that when he had his head up, no one dared to look his way, he was enjoying that power for some reason, it filled his veins with something dark, he liked seeing people look down instead of him looking down, it felt fucking nice, and it felt even better when the only person that did look at him, was you. People averted their eyes when he entered the room, choosing to ignore his presence but the fear was very much evident, so he knew they didn't see him staring at you but at this point, he really couldn't bring himself to make an active effort to look away even if someone noticed. 

It was no lie, that Mattheo wasn't up to date with all the gossip and news, he just lived life passively but now that he was out there more, he couldn't help but hear the words that fell onto his ears, Yule Ball, huh. WAIT- ball dance? That meant having a date, who were you going with? Fuck his mind was rambling shit to him, he could not let someone else take you to a fucking dance as their date, no, he wouldn't let that happen. He had to get to you before someone else did, it was nighttime, and tomorrow's the weekend, approaching you will be the first thing he'll do after he wakes up, he has to plan shit out, you know, make it special and heartfelt, you deserved nothing less.

But his heart nearly broke when he overheard two Slytherin guys talking about you. The way one of them talked about you made his blood boil, his jaw clenched tight, nails drawing blood from his palms as they dug into his coarse skin, "I told you not to ask her out, plenty of guys tried and guess what? She rejected them all." the guy who was being talked to only scoffed angrily, "She's a fucking slut, that's what she is, leading people on-" the other boy just stopped him and Mattheo exhaled, a bit relieved because if it wasn't for him, Mattheo would've smacked the guy and pushed him to the fucking wall, "dude, come on, that's not true, all she did was smile at you when you gave her your seat, she's a nice girl," these guys were in the fifth year, he recognised that much, "sure, whatever," the guy walked away to his room, making sure to loudly slam the door behind him. 

Mattheo then gets up and walks towards the guy left behind, the one who stood up for you, when he stands in front of him, he sees the dude cower into the seat, Mattheo tries to speak in a polite voice but the anger is still radiating off him, his irritated stare didn't help either, "she doesn't have a date, yeah?" his hands were behind his back, over one another, the blood still fresh, "who-o?" the guy stutters out, looking around for help but no one was there- "You know who," he fixes him with a glare, before uttering your name out loud, "no no, she doesn't, rejected them all." Mattheo then nods at him and leans back, then finally he walks back to his room, allowing the guy to catch his breath. 

Mattheo feels relief wash over him as he lets the information sink in, okay good, you didn't have a date but then again, why were you rejecting them all? What if you reject him as well? Yeah, he couldn't handle that wound, he'd fucking die, he contemplates whether he should ask you or not but he's done fucking waiting, waiting for his fate to fuck things over, if things are going to be fucked, he'll be the one to do it. 

...

Mattheo puts on a black shirt and black pants, not caring to tuck his shirt in, the cold metal ring stings him as he puts it on, the feeling is grounding, he's doing something his dad would've done and for some reason that doesn't feel half as bad, he feels like himself, it was like something had possessed him, the confidence was unwavering, even as he stepped out into the crowded hallway, hands in his pockets, looking ahead, people parted, giving him space and Merlin, did that feel fucking powerful. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he approached the room you'd be in, you always were there on the weekends, with your friends and he didn't think before he stepped into the room, heads turning towards him in shock, even yours but the shock on your face was soon replaced with a smile, quietly waving at him and that right there, fed right into his ego.

He walked over to you in a few quick strides, eyes zeroed in on you, nothing else mattered at that moment, "Can I talk to you?" To say you were surprised would be an understatement, you were ecstatic, you've wanted this for so long, to talk to him in front of others, you never knew if you should because he might've felt uncomfortable, "Yes ofcourse, what is it?" you nod, a smile still on your face, "Alone," his voice was cold, "oh yeah, sure-" you step towards him, thinking he'd lead you somewhere private but he stayed rooted in his place, eyes never leaving yours, he stayed quiet for a bit, taking in your whole self, the bright clothes you were dressed in, the equally bright smile on your face. Then he looked over your head, to the shocked faces of your friends, "Alone." It came out as an order, he couldn't care less. 

Mattheo liked this newfound authority, he also relished in the fact that you were being so compliant as if you wanted this to happen and he couldn't be more glad, "Guys, I'll be back, you can go ahead, don't worry," you explained, seeing their hesitance, his unwavering gaze was back on you, brown eyes were intense. The apprehensive group slowly emptied the room and just went the last person was out, Mattheo muttered something under his breath, and the door slammed shut, locking itself. 

Mattheo cursed that pretty smile of yours before smiling back, "You have a date? For the ball?" you lowered your eyes to the ground at the question, a shy look grazing your features as you shook your head, the more he looked at you, the more positive he got. "Good."  He finally pulled his hands out of his pocket and suddenly there was a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand and a velvet box, he wordlessly handed them to you, your eyes were wide, full of amusement, face warm, you noticed how the lights around you got dimmer, the small mock firefly charms that floated in the air, you didn't have a clue on how he was doing all this without his wand but you couldn't bring yourself to think of it, not when you had him standing in front you, in all his glory, about to ask you to the ball, gosh you felt like you were on cloud nine, the guy you were waiting for had actually approached you? You had to be dreaming. 

Then out of nowhere, you hear your favourite song but on strings, you look down at the box curiously- "It's the muggle chocolate you were talking about, the one you said was hard to get your hands on," he shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal but in reality, he was finding the courage to finally tell you what he was feeling, ask you out. Your brows pinched together, as you noticed that all of it was a muggle, even the flower arrangement- the song, how did he do all of this? You looked up at him with an amused look. "No questions please," he breathed out like he was out of breath, you then smiled at him gratefully, and he quickly averted his eyes, his hand subconsciously reaching over to his chest, "Oh Merlin," he exhaled quietly, not being able to look back at you. 

He then slowly gathered the courage to look back at you, you were just looking at him patiently, the smile still on your face, Mattheo cleared his throat before opening up, "I have never been the one to be graceful but I want to do this properly." he inhaled sharply before continuing, "Ever since that night, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, I think I've gone mad honestly," He lets out a dry chuckle shaking his head, looking into your eyes, "I��think I've taken a liking to you, your voice, your smile-" and then he interrupts himself, forgetting the little speech he prepared as he watches your smile widen at his words, "yeah that, more of that please," and that makes you blush, the genuine interest in his eyes, the way admiration shines in his eyes, you are so close to him, that you can hear his heart thumping loudly, "I'd like to have the honour of taking you to the ball," then he says your name quietly, "would you like be my date?" 

"Yes yes!" you couldn't be more excited, you are quick to throw your arms around him, and all the worries leave his body as soon as he is subjected to your embrace, he closes his eyes, pulling you closer, finding everything comfortable in your grip. His heartstrings thrum at the moment, it was embarrassing how quickly you got him flustered but he didn't seem to mind it. He whispered a small "thank you," before hugging you tighter, you just giggled into his chest and Merlin, did he feel like he had just won the lottery.

...

<<prev work: this love || mattheo riddle

[anonymouscheeses]

Bonus under cut vvv

Later that same day:

And... I made an Emily redesign too...... *sniff sob /j* it's not final (like all my redesigns) I'm just trying get better at this design stuff and where better to do it except my current fixation ehhh?????

Long Emily design explanation/rant thing ignore it probably but pls dotn im desperate: I wanted to make her more round and soft cuzzz I love those typa designs I'm just a sucker for circle characters. Made her actually black and not fuckin gray cuz its a transformation to look more human and gentle(for me they go between two forms, their true ones that we see the first time we see them snd their human/softer ones if they ever interact with actual humans which... they usually dont.) Not a demon form tfff. In this version I wanted to put Emily in animal inspired features like... the sheep nose, ears, and hooves. Because she and Sera know that humans and about all beings love animals. Birds have sharp features mostly so they don't look as welcoming as they want to seem. I wanted Emily to look sheep likes and pretty much all the seraphim look more sheep like to make Lucifer stand out as the only one who was symbolized as a snake/goat(still don't know if I'll make him goat or make Lillith goat. I'll decide when I get there lmao). Justtt overalll wanted Emily to look more round, welcoming, and cute. I kept the freckles lighter than her skin color(even tho that's SUPER not accurate to what actually black people look like with freckles but whatevr) because it reminded me of fawns and.... sure Emily is a sheep but I still wanted to incorporate other cute animal traits with her cyz y not.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Kept Safe

[Art by Miu_A]

You ever give someone advice, knowing full well they aren't going to take it? Even AFTER they have begged and pleaded and WHINED at you, for hours, for it? Even after they poured their heart and soul out to you? And you, a good friend, carefully and tactfully, tried your best to help? LIKE THEY ASKED?

Ever find yourself the designated "run too dramatically weep in the arms off" friend?

I have.

It is hell. I am in hell.

This is my punishment for all those hours I spent reading and playing Otome Isekai junk instead of, I don't know, solving world hunger or something. Because it HAS to be. I am clearly being punished. Repeatedly. By some sort of petty, petty, anime God.

Fuck you too, buddy.

A fresh round of highly dramatic Protagonist sobbing peirces the air. Dear lord, she has a set of lungs on her, does she? It's like an air siren. But more... upset toddler. It was bizarre. I'd LIKED her as a character. I HAD. Bright and cheerful, determined with a good heart. She'd been a bit naive, yes, but she'd grown. Love had changed her for the better.

But THIS?

This was some middle school "he threw away my secret note, that I didn't sign, so that means he HATES MEEEEE~" bullshit. It went on and on and ON! God, it'd been MONTHS! Years!

I made friends with the Protagonist when we were in The Royal Academy. The story's setting. It SHOULD have finished by graduation. SHOULD. HAVE. But DID it? No! This nonsense had spilled into the COURT! The general population! Actual political factions were starting to get involved!

All because my "friend" COULDN'T PICK A MAN.

And she didn't listen. I tried. God, how I TRIED! No matter HOW I phrased "just fucking TALK to them" it didn't get through her dense fucking skull. I tried taking a break. To calm down. She HUNTED ME DOWN with her little Harem of political trainwrecks!

That poor port city STILL has yet to recover from the chaos they unleashed.

I don't... God, I don't even LIKE her anymore. I've just been reduced to her HANDLER. Forced into girlish tea parties devoid of any taste, because no one ELSE will come. Followed by winces and pitying looks by every lady in all of polite society. The sacrifice to keep HER distracted, lest her gaurd dogs decide its a good idea to do something unhinged again.

It's exhausting.

I'm not even listening.

She seems to have worked through her usual cycle of "cry, mope, what about meeeee~, then I going to go be Plucky at them! Tee Hee~♡!". Good, good. You go have fun, you little train wreck. I'm going to go find an actual ADULT to hide behind.

I have my maids change me out of an outfit that, frankly? I am too old for. I am not sixteen. We are not GIRLS, for the heaven's sake. We are WOMEN. It was a cute outfit. I enjoyed wearing it, back when I was physically young enough that it was appropriate. But even THEN... that's the down side of the whole "isekai" thing.

You keep your mental age.

Everyone around you? INFANTS. Fresh faced babies. You are being flirted with by fourteen year olds and? It is DISGUSTING. They can never be anything more then "cute kids" to you. The characters you once thirsted over? Reduced to actual, living, breathing, pre-schoolers.

There's no going back after that. I'll NEVER unsee it. Can only continue to age, even as they simply... grow up. And then? When they started behaving like FOUR YEAR OLDS? Forget it! I'm beginning to share my parents fears I may die single.

At least I have a refuge. A place of SANITY and SENSE.

I grab the imported wine I had purchased. I'd noticed him drink it before on special occasions. Found a tea seller that was willing to also bring some back. Mother LOVED the tea and my friend was going to love the wine, I could just tell.

Cautiously poking my head out of the guest apartments i was staying in, I checked the hall. Left. Right. Left. Thank god. No Protagonist in sight, she hasn't come back yet. Better hurry though.

I walk fast and keep close to the wall. Ducking into alcoves at every new female voice. Passing servants, Nobles, and the occasional Knight either murmur what they know of Protagonist's last known location or politely pretend not to see me. For anyone else, this would be scandalous behavior. For ME? Well... everyone knew EXACTLY why I was being driven to such extremes.

I thankfully reached the governance wing unmolested. It was far quite and none of the pack of fools ever really set foot here. Not ever the ones who were SUPPOSED to be busy learning their future roles as leaders of this country. God, I could only hope the third prince somehow quietly pulls a coup.

Not that I'd SAY that.

The gaurds don't even bother to announce me, I'm here so often. Merely opening the door. I maintain my decorum none the less. JUST long enough for the doors to finally close and I am able to drop my social mask like whipping of my bra after a long day. Oh thank fuuuuuuck. FREEDOM!

A familiar chuckle, like incense smoke, wafts from the second floor of the office.

"Oh my~, so tired?" My friend muses, his voice that ever lilting purr. I hear him closing whatever heavy tome he's currently studying. "And so early in the DAY! Was it the little nuisance again? Surely she must have SOMETHING better to do?"

Gently putting the wine I'm gifting him on his desk, I then throw up my arms. You would THINK! Wouldn't you?! It's an old complaint. And frankly? I'm glad he still let's me vent about it. It HAS to get old. Yet? He let's me complain anyway.

I met the, roughly translated, "Keeper Of The Shield" at one of the Crown Prince's many ridiculous parties. I was dragged along as Protagonist's plus one. Because GOD FORBID she bring one of her suitors! That might lean towards CHOICE! Can't have THAT!

It was an overly dramatic, gaudy, slow motion trainwreck from beginning to end. I? Got very, VERY drunk. I knew I shouldn't. It was wildly inappropriate. But I was HORRIFIED. Hid near the balconies and drank to forget. Contemplating jumping.

Was likely the only one there my age NOT in ten layers of bows and fabric flowers. It was probably why Crevan decide to talk to me. That and the look of abject suffering. He informed that, sadly, the balconies were locked. But if I planned to maim my self to escape, he could probably boost me up enough to reach the upper windows.

I choked on my drink and guffawd like an idiot. It was SUPER flattering. Very pretty. And honestly? The best conversation I'd had in YEARS. He was droll. Witty. Snarky. In just as much hell as I was. We gleefully narrated the drama playing out before us in as cutting a manner as possible. Grown adults, government officals! Behaving like fucking CHILDREN.

Only after, did I learn I had been chatting with the equivalent of the minister of the Defense. THE commander of our nation's defensive forces. All of them. Knights, army, spies. All of it. And the poor man had been dragged from his desk to play party prop by a glorified teenager. I was horrified. Appalled. Fucking OUTRAGED to learn that it was just... normal!

This country was a nightmare! Otome games are HELL. Lacey, sparkly HELL!!!

But at least I had Crevan to keep me sane. He was always willing to listen. Advise when he could. We had HOPED that Protagonist would start maturing... I'd even mentioned it, but it just seemed like she back slid again and again! Trapping me. Isolating me! Ruining my chances to move ON and have a LIFE!

I don't know what went wrong! Is it me? Am I too hand holdy? It's starting to destabilize the country! Not that the royal family even seems to notice! God no, if it weren't for Crevan, the whole PLACE would have collapsed!

I flop down on my couch. Technically it's not "mine", but honestly? He's fooling no one. The man barely had ANY guest furniture before we became friends. It's totally my couch. (He even got a tea table for us, the softy.)

"Oh? A gift? How thoughtful, dear~" It's only months of friendship that keep from jumping these days. I should get that man a BELL. "Would you like some?"

I can't help but huff a laugh. He always looks to PLEASED when he gets the jump on someone. Startles them. A mischievous asshole, that one. Touchy, too. Forever cupping my cheek or earnestly taking my hand. Patting my head. Guiding me by the elbow or shoulder. He has so few friends... I am certain he is touch starved.

A thought occurs to him, as he pours two cups. A sly grin stretching across his face as he turns to offer me a cup. The wine's scent mixes, burning and delicate, with the ever present smells of incense and his favorite herbal cigarettes. Blurring the senses and relaxing. It's a pretty strong drink.

"You KNOW... it just occurs to me! Darling, if you want to avoid that pest? Why not spend the day HERE? I'd love to have you. " his voice becomes low and serious for a moment, almost catching me off gaurd, bouncing back before I can really think about it. "You could trash my shelves again! Camp out on my couches! It'll be like a little party~ Just you and me! Not a care in the world. You won't have to worry a single thing~"

He grins, glasses catching the light, toothy like the old scheming fox he is.

"I'll keep you nice and safe~"

[suosgirl]

How do you think the reader’s relationship with Suo both meeting while she’s out to get food for her and her sister. She’s genuinely kind and caring overall like Tanjiro from kny. How do you think they’ll get together? She’s helpful and won’t hesitate to protect those in need especially her younger siblings. She’s got a strong sense of smell acknowledging how others feel. Ty!

A To-Go Order (& Missing Utensils) | Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 1233

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. very brief mentions of Haruka Sakura and Akihiko Nirei (when are they not, let's be so honest)

୨ৎ Song Inspiration: Hypotheticals by Lake Street Drive

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, fluff, f!reader, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), swearing – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Ahh ty for the request my dearest anon! I am going to be so honest – I have never watched Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no Yaiba (and I’m so embarrassed bc I just saw the latest like animated arc and it looks so good) BUT that doesn’t mean I’m not familiar with the character! I hope I do your request justice ahhhh!!! And I'm so sorry this took so long ahhhh!! Also, if I dip down into my eldest sister trauma well ... it makes it more genuine, right? ♡

Because – and this is a stretch, he knows this – but what if you didn’t have any utensils at home? How would whoever you were on the phone with be able to enjoy this delightful meal without said fork and spoon and chopsticks? And he doesn’t want to imagine what devastation and sadness look like on a lovely face like yours.

Suo hears you first before he sees you.

Maybe it’s the tone of your voice or the irritated tap of your foot on the floor, but somehow, someway you’ve got him intrigued within just a couple minutes of being in your presence.

You’re on the phone with your sister, lightly scolding her for being so reckless. She was a wild card, that girl, and when she’d heard about an easy and trendy way to cut her bangs from her friends, well, she’d only be able to confirm that it’s true if she tried it, right?

Wrong – so fucking wrong.

It was not easy, and it didn’t look trendy – and now it was you paying the price for it.

She’s sobbing so loud into your ear that you have to turn your volume down to the lowest it can go, but even that’s not enough, and at some point, you can’t help it – you blow up.

She’s no stranger to your lectures (she’s on the receiving end more often than not), but you’d told her not to do it. You’d told her that she’d hate having bangs. You’d told her to sit on the idea for a couple of days before committing to it.

But what does she do? What any good sister would do! Absolutely ignore you! Even though deep down she probably knew you were right!

You sigh, fingers massaging your temple as you shut your eyes for a quick fix of relief.

“... I’ll be home in a bit, okay? It’s not the end of the world, I promise. Now – what do you want from that Monjayaki place that you like so much?”

Suo watches the way that you smile into the phone, no doubt at the response of whoever you’re speaking to, but the smile on your lips is so warm and so fond that he gets just a bit distracted.

A small laugh leaves your lips as you repeat your sister’s order, and you end the call with, “Okay, got it. No more crying, ‘kay? I love you, and I’ll see you in a bit. Also … please put the scissors down – I’ll fix it when I get home.”

He watches the way you order, politely and respectfully, before taking a seat at the table right across from him, Sakura, Nirei, Kiryu, and Tsugeura.

He watches the way you cross your legs and take in the surroundings of the restaurant as you wait, before making eye contact with him.

He sends a small, practiced smile your way before turning his attention back to his friends.

Internally, though, Suo is just the slightest ashamed because he hadn’t meant to stare at you for so long. But, as long as you didn’t know – it was fine, right?

From his peripheral, he can see the way that you continue to stare at him in confusion before ultimately looking away, and he lets out the tiniest sigh of relief.

That … that was a close one.

He tries, truly, but he just can’t. 

He just can’t stop glancing over at you. You’d piqued his interest and he couldn’t understand why.

The cashier tells you it’ll just be a couple more minutes, but you’re quickly shaking your head at them with a smile and telling them not to worry and to take their time.

And Suo can't stop wondering – because how can someone like you effortlessly exude such an air of compassion and love?

As an afterthought, Suo wonders what it would be like to be on the receiving end of it.

Your order is completed much too fast for his liking because now you’re standing up and thanking them as you grab the bag and head for the exit, and Suo feels conflicted because he’s never ever been so curious about a stranger like this before and – 

You turn around as you slip out the door, intent on getting one last glance at him before you leave, but you aren’t expecting Suo to also be looking at you.

The last thing he sees is your mouth dropping in surprise and your eyes widening before the door closes – and then it’s over.

Whatever was happening between the two of you is over.

And – Suo shouldn’t feel any sort of loss from this but he does.

He ponders, briefly, if he’s missed out on something wonderful.

But he’s distracted, too distracted, apparently, to hear Sakura ask, “Who’re ya lookin’ at?”

He’s brought back to his surroundings by the soft nudge of Nirei’s shoulder, and he blinks.

“Ah, sorry Sakura-kun. Just in my thoughts, that’s all.”

Suo’s tone is friendly but firm, leaving no room for discussion.

He’d never see you again, probably, so he let that strange feeling of regret settle somewhere deep and hidden in his conscience.

He’ll get over it, he’s sure, but then he hears the cashier mutter under their breath, “Oh… I think I forgot to add utensils in there…”

Suo never lets his heart lead. Never. In fact, he can’t remember the last time that he did.

So, he’s not too sure what’s leading him now to politely excuse himself from the table or to offer the cashier his aid in delivering the utensils to you.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t – there’s no reason to. He doesn’t work here, he doesn’t know you, but if there’s one thing Suo’s good at, it’s reading people.

And he can’t imagine how disappointed you’ll be when you get home, only to find out that they’ve forgotten to pack your utensils.

Because – and this is a stretch, he knows this – but what if you didn’t have any utensils at home? How would whoever you were on the phone with be able to enjoy this delightful meal without said fork and spoon and chopsticks?

And he doesn’t want to imagine what devastation and sadness look like on a lovely face like yours.

But when he goes to open the door – 

You’re standing right outside, hand outstretched to grab the handle and a startled look on your face.

He glances down at your hand while you glance at his – and you note the neatly wrapped-up utensils in his hand.

It’s as if time stops for just a moment as you both stand there in shock – and when your eyes meet… well, it just feels right.

“Oh I –”

“Sorry, I –”

You accidentally cut him off, and it’s awkward and uncoordinated and cute.

Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, you let out a breathless, airy laugh as you look away.

“Would you like to go first?” Suo teases, and your mouth drops open just a tiny bit at his tone.

Because who was this guy? Who’d been staring holes into your head? And who’d caught your eye once more before you left?

“I… Sorry, um, I just… Do I know you? Because you were looking at me an awful lot earlier and I don’t want to be rude,” you explain, albeit a bit flustered.

Suo blinks.

He wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt.

Being the eldest sister does things to you - like being more capable of confrontation.

“Oh. You’re not here to get your utensils?”

“Hm? Why … oh, did they not put it in here? That’s fine – I’ve got some at home.”

Suo blinks again.

You blink too.

Briefly, you wonder if the utensils in his hand are for you.

“... actually, I lied. I don’t have any at home – like, at all. Would it be possible to get some?”

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Here's something mildly heartbreaking :) (my speciality!)

Mammon definitely cried when MC died right?

• He (along with Asmo) is the character who cries the most in canon;

1.) He cries during sad parts of movies/shows/plays/books

2.) He cries while watch animal documentries

3.) Hell he cried because Beel ate the soup he was making MC

• MC died on a day where the rest of the brothers were (up until that point) having a relaxing, fun day - playing a game to get Lucifer & MC closer together. Their death was definitely unexpected/an extreme shock

• MC's injuries were bad according to Satan? (Levi?) Bad enough that a human wouldn't have been able to survive it. Bad enough that even Lucifer knew he couldn't do anything to save them when Asmo asked him to. That means the body Mammon was holding was........ I mean it would have been a gruesome sight

• Mammon's been spending every day since the beginning of the year with MC. At this point he's already obviously in love with them, they're his best friend, the two of them share a bedroom frequently. They were close

The point being: Mammon held a dying human in his arms and sobbed his fucking heart out while asking them not to die. In front of Belphie.

The point being: Mammon didn't cry when Lilith died. No listen, he absolutely broke down when she died but he didn't do it in front of his brothers. Mammon was the one keeping it together and looking after everyone when they Fell. He couldn't scream and cry and beg like he wanted to when Lilith died because he had to be the strong one, he had to soothe everyone's injuries and fears and guilt, he had to show them that things could be better, that they could move on to a brighter future (shoutout to Mammon's lines in his unit song with Lucifer).

But you know what Belphie would have seen?

He would have seen his older brother breaking down over a human he's known for months when he wouldn't even cry after his little sister, who he'd known for thousands of years, died

And we all already know what Belphie thought about humans at this time:

And we already know what he thought about his brothers at this time:

For a moment there, while MC was dying Belphie would have hated Mammon. Would have felt vindicated for causing Mammon that kind of pain, when he (as far as Belphie knew) couldn't even spare that for his sister.

Belphie would have felt angry and betrayed. Justified for what he said and did but so so painfully hurt.

And then (in s1 of the anime) when the brothers were tiptoeing around Belphie, were trying to reach out to him and act normal after what he did, but were so obviously failing, when there was a distance between them and Belphie that had previously never existed, that even Beel couldn't find away to breach, Mammon was the first to take that step forward and close the distance which prompted everyone else to do the same, to bring Belphie back to them, to show that he was accepted and loved and always a part of them

And I am very emotional about them.

Disclaimer: this is absolutely not a post bashing Belphie or his thoughts/actions/feelings. They're both complex characters and I always love trying to breakdown and figure out what certain characters were feeling at a time by bringing up other moments in canon. If you try to make this post into something to bash Belphie or start dumb discourse I will eat your entire right leg🐸

In addition, me stating things from canon or talking about negative emotions or things characters have done and comparing those things to another charcter's actions/emotions/responses is not me putting down one character to raise up another. Sometimes when analysing characters you have to compare and contrast them with others present in that or similar situations -> doing so doesn't mean I'm shit talking one character. A character can do, say, think, believe bad or complex things -> there's nothing wrong with talking about/analysing those things or still loving that character.

I know it seems stupid to say something that should seem obvious but *takes out cigar and blows smoke* I've been in this business a long time, kid (3 years for om!, 7 years actively in a fandom, 14 years in fandom in general) I've seen things, terrible things

Also, lemme shamelessly plug in my fic because it's related to this post -> Changing Seasons

Ft. Belphie coming to terms with MC after Lesson 16

Onesided Belphie × (unnamed gn!) MC

Mammon x MC being Besties

Belphie & Mammon talking, but not talking enough

Belphie's PoV

Mammon very briefly being an eldritch nightmare as a little treat for you monsterfuckers

Edit:

Huge additional part added because I realised the entire focus of this post could be misunderstood

Ajznxodjfc9enhd7ejx 😭😭😭😭this was supposed to be Belphie's post about Belphie's feelings. Y'all know I love Mammon, but he's not supposed to be the focus here🥲

Usually when I make an analysis post I take evidence from canon and then add it all together to get ✨️The Main Point✨️ of the post.

In this post I had to infer all of mammon's "canon evidence" (via other actual canon evidence) because we're never explicitly told he cried when MC died and we never see his instant reaction to Lilith's death.

Belphie's side of it was however all explicitly stated in canon so I just added the screenshots. Which is why I wrote much more about mammon on this post than Belphie.

But ✨️The Main Point✨️ that I was always getting to and what made me write this post is actually about how absolutely fucking pissed off Belphie would have been because of Mammon. How hurt and angry and betrayed he would have felt that his older brother who's meant to protect him and his family apparently valued the life of some random human over their sister's.

I added the S1 bit because it nicely rounded up Belphie & Mammon's story. Because it proved Belphie wrong. It proved exactly how much Mammon (and the others) valued him and each other. Because he got to see how heartbroken Mammon was when MC died, he knew exactly what it was like to be that heartbroken, he knew exactly what it was like to NEVER forgive that which caused the pain, and yet he was forgiven. And THAT I think more than anything would have proved Belphie's initial thoughts wrong. It would have eased any lingering feelings of betrayal and hurt he had. Would have proved how much he was loved by his older brother.

So yeah, this was absolutely made to be Belphie's post and I don't think I explained that well enough in the original post💀 in my defense i was half an hour late in feeding the kids & getting yelled at🥲

[the-s1lly-corner]

If you take cannon x cannon would you be okay with Zooble x Gangle fluff (idk why I feel the need to clarify that) hcs? Of course if you don’t do those types of things that’s perfectly fine! I just like the ship and the tag is kinda dead

Zooble x Gangle hcs!

imma be real i did not see this ship coming, but honestly i can see the appeal! by the way, do they have a ship name yet? im not sure what to tag this otherwise </3 i dont usually do canon x canon, simply because its not asked for a lot so this is definitely new for me!! didnt know what gif to use so have this i LOVE when hugs are animated like this SOBS

mmm indifferent kind of mean character x soft and emotional character, we have met yet again

"excuse me she asked for no pickles", zooble in an au where it's the real world and they go to mcdonalds, i think

gangle is the only person allowed into zooble's room

TREEHOUSE BY ALEX G THATS WHAT THAT REMINDS ME OF

really the only person zooble can be emotional around, not that they're really emotional in general but you know?

let's gangle vent and cry

gangle draws, she's always doodling her and zooble. zooble has kept every single drawing she has given them

zooble stands up for her whenever someone (namely jax) bullies gangle

zooble doesnt strike me as the type to use petnames, neither does gangle but i feel like gangle would make an effort there... kind of stumped on what she would call them.. hmm...

ngl she looks like she would say pookie/pookie bear, but i can also see them saying any variant of sweet(insert thing) and/or honey(insert) but i may be biased since gangle is my second favorite of the cast

things happen to jax after he steps on gangles comedy mask.

i wont say what things

but things happen

if theres anyone hanging around zooble during free time, it is most certainly going to be gangle

looking for gangle? then look for zooble

that meme of the puppy standing over/protecting the kitten, thats them

"hey dipshits she's trying to talk", censored of course, but the point still stands, they are gangle's number one fan and advocator. probably tries to teach gangle how to be tougher

gangle and zooble drawing together thats it

drawing each other

theres badly drawn hearts everywhere

SOBS, im sold on this ship honestly

[kaeyachi]

So...I finished the Arlecchino story quest...

Spoilers below!

TW: Mentions of Suicide, Child Experimentation, Child Abuse, and Murder/Death

This is, by far, the best story quest I have ever done!

First of all, CHILDE?! CHILDE ESCAPING HIS PERSONAL AMBULANCE TO SNEZHNAYA JUST TO COME BACK TO FONTAINE TO ASK SKIRK A QUESTION? Bro is so funny, please-

please save him.

Wait, actually, yeah please do save him. Pulcinella and Pantalone are both plotting in the background, and they got Childe involved...

I also loved the children! Look at how terrifying they are! They're my absolute faves!!

Lyney cementing the reason as to why Arlecchino chose him as the next King is wonderful to see as well. For some time, I thought Freminet and Lynette had a shot, even with reading their lore. What I have failed to realize is that Lyney really is the inspiration for all of the people in the House of the Hearth. His frustrated and disappointed spiel about Freminet not trusting him with Clervie struck me to the heart. This is an older brother at work here people!

Also if I had a nickel every time a cryo younger brother hid a dangerous secret from his pyro older brother which got them into an argument once the truth came out, I'd have 2 nickels ✌️ (somehow gave me war flashbacks to a scene that doesn't even exist lmao)

LYNETTE IS THE FUNNIEST SIBLING BTW. SHE'S MY QUEEN FOR THIS.

Clervie! Our dearest! I'm not fully sure what part in her design did it, but she barely looks like an NPC somehow. Like, yes, this is still an NPC base model, but... is it perhaps the hair? And the extra lashes??

Also, her calling Arlecchino "Perrie" made me sob. I wasn't ready to hear nicknames!!

The mention of Snezhnayan auroras also made me sob again as well. You know what? This entire thing made me sob.

Clervie's dread and horror at the thought of her own mother, her unrelenting spirit that kept her going in her fight for her fellow peers freedom despite the abuse that she will receive, and her unfulfilled dreams repeatedly being mentioned throughout this quest was heartbreaking.

I do have to say- the animations they released for Arlecchino helped a lot with the emotions we are supposed to feel for this quest. Not only was that good Advertising and promotion for the Arlecchino banner, it also set up the plot that would have not been well presented ingame had they chose to do that instead.

Crucabena and Clervie part of this quest were not the only ones mentioned in this quest, but also that damn dude that she killed with her heels! I personally like the way they released all those animations because the quest feels more emotional and alive now, and we could follow with the story better than before (and it effectively increased the hype)

Speaking of more alive, the facial expressions have definitely improved! This quest had them utilizing various expressions well, specifically for the playable characters, so, again, this really helped with the feel of the quest.

Additionally, adding a picture to scenes also set the tone really well. It's not that pictures have never been included in quests before, but the way these were framed(?) made it look way better than the ones before.

By the way...is it just me? Or did Paimon's voice somewhat mellow out for this quest? I had recently played some other story and world quests, and Paimon's EN voice is admittedly high-pitched and painful to hear in those, but for this quest, it's as if her voice was toned down (like Mondstadt Paimon, but with current Paimon energy). I'm hoping this was them taking the criticism from past and adjusting their instructions to Paimon's VA accordingly, because I loved Paimon's voice in this quest (that or I'm delulu)

Quick lore tidbits before I go back to gushing about this quest:

1. Arlecchino confirmed not from Fontaine (like I legit thought she may be Khaenri'ahn due to the blood moon thing she has going for her, but it's nice to confirm her non-Fontainian status)

2. Crucabena was the one who had a deal with Dottore on sending members of the HotH to him for experimentation. Anyone who was physically impaired or left alive after a duel to death are automatically sent to him. Clervie has described this as a fate worse than death... Peruere rejected Dottore's partnership offer once she became the next knave. Also, Crucabena used Clervie as an "example" for those who wish to escape, meaning Clervie received the most abuse (which apparently worsened as the years went by). Clervie lost hope sometime along the way and was basically suicidal as well by the time she and Arlecchino had their duel... Her mindset by that time is that the only hope for freedom to her is death. The popular theory of Clervie letting Arlecchino kill her is proven in a horrifying way with this discovery... (yes, she wanted Arlecchino to be the king, but at the same time, she took this situation as a chance to hit 2 birds with 1 stone)

3. Project Stuzha is apparently something highly dangerous, and Pulcinella and Pantalone are trying to get Childe and Arlecchino involved (Childe was told to aide the project by Pulcinella, while Arlecchino says she doesnt want the HotH to be involved in it)

4. Here is me reannouncing that I am in fact taking the L on the Freminet and Crucabena situation. Basically, the timeline is that at age 16, Clervie dies, and we are left with a 1 year time period for a 6 year old Freminet to enter under Crucabena (I'm guessing this is either a retcon or a means to hide the Arlecchino plot by not having them directly say mother in Freminet's character story 4). After that said 1 year, Peruere kills Crucabena and has spent several months in Snezhnaya before reviving the House of the Hearth and adopting Lyney and Lynette (perhaps the children of Crucabena's HotH simply stuck together during that time)

Basically, yes, Arlecchino is in her mid-20s. Not my personal cup of tea, but hey, genshin ages are confusing most days (Ayato is older than her, and Ayaka may actually be older than her as well... ugh I need a moment please... I MAY BE THE SAME AGE AS HER. NO-)

5. Freminet used to also call Lyney "brother". What changed that, I'm not sure (and if I had a nickel...), but the thought of baby Freminet following around big bro Lyney and big sis Lynette makes my heart melt. Freminet actually cried after Lyney basically told him how important Fremi is to him, so whoever made Freminet think otherwise... 😡 they better square up because we ride at dawn

ok back to me gushing

THE BOSS FIGHT? IT WAS SO COOL! It was beautifully animated, and the fact that they added this at the end?

The fear on the traveler's eyes upon realization of what true power Arlecchino held was amazing imo. We canonically cannot defeat Arlecchino in her boss fight! She will be a weekly boss that we can defeat, but in actuality, we really cannot beat the number 4 of the Fatui Harbringers.

We now have actual proof that harbringers 1-4 are not within our capabilities to challenge, and to add to that horror, this is us fighting Arlecchino with Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. This is also actual proof that we, the traveler, cannot defeat a ton of other characters as well! (were cooked if we never get a power boost and plot armor✌️)

Also let me sneak in this picture:

Cunty as fck. Powerpuff girls energy. They're the Heathers, and we, the traveler, are Veronica.

And finally, the last part of my commentary that cemented this quest as my top 1:

Everything Arlecchino has done for the House of the Hearth, it was all thanks to Clervie and her dreams.

Arlecchino has shaped the HotH into a more honest relationship between her as the father and them as her children. Everything Clervie hated about the old HotH is now nonexistent in this version.

The children could be set free.

Duels are not to death.

They will not be sent to their doom if they lose.

This is everything that Clervie dreamed of, and this is everything Clervie tragically never got to see and experience because she lost all hope.

Clervie's story ended in tragedy, but Peruere lived and breathed Clervie's dreams for her anyway. Seeing the aurora was the start of Peruere finding the goal of living Clervie's dream, and now, Arlecchino strives to do her best to see those dreams come to fruition.

And the qualities that Peruere admired in Clervie are the same qualities that made her want Lyney to become the next king. Hopeful, caring, protective, passionate, and full of conviction. Lyney will take the mantle and live and breathe for Clervie's and Peruere's dreams someday.

Honestly, I have more to say, but I think this is a good place to stop for now. The dynamics of all these characters have made this experience worthwhile, and I hope that genshin continues with this sort of style in the future. Here's to more amazing stories from genshin!

Bonus screenshot while we are still here:

[monstress]

arcane s2 thoughts

prayinggg we get a no soundtrack version because while i do like a few of the tracks (yes even Enemy!!!), there are more duds than hits and they take me out each time

also obviously i'm a Jinx Is Alive truther because of the ending scene of cait staring at the air ducts to the hextech tower fiddling with a fragment of her bomb...come on. jinx has said in the start of the season that she wanted to leave piltover/zaun and with isha gone and her sister happy, she can finally do that

i am very invested in jinx and vi's relationship so when jinx without any hesitation chose to let herself go from vi's grasp and destroy warwick (both something that vi could not do) which in one fell swoop legitimizes her agency, protects vi from a monster, saves vander from eternal hell - i'm like yea...[sniffs] that's a redemption arc baby

jinx and vi. piltover and zaun. they'll always be sisters...yea....

i admire the open ending with the airship. but she did say she'll ride one of those things one day. yay.

maybe an unpopular opinion but i liked cait this season. finally some bite and controversy and trauma to her choices. she was way tooooo comfortable in s1. while she's still a cop, at least she's interesting now!

also ok....yelled and hollered when lesbian sex is finally happening. rejoice guys - i thought we will never get it

the writing pace of this show is bonkers and i understand they need to keep it tight because of animation budget but what the helllllll was that viktor machine herald speedrun. it felt like it needed a good one more season to incubate and i was overwhelmed with that + jayce's heel turn + mel's superpower reveal like hold on hold the fuck onnnnnn what does this meannnnnn

gay sex in hextech void deus ex machina goes crazy tho

like oh yeah i am cosmically tied to only one man in this world and he alone can guide me to the error of my ways in any universe

ok!

mel being the most specialest princess in the entire world seems right imo. i can easily be riled up to sycophantic fervor to serve in her army just say the word ma'am 🫡

let's not forget the tragic irony that Mel was exiled by her mother and has tried to carve her own path through diplomacy and peace in defiance but ends up finding herself sitting in her mother's steel ship in her colors with her army with so much power in her veins and now leaves the city she loved that her mother ruined too. mel merdada one of the characters of all time......

and i am a number one sap so!!!!!!! the flashback scenes this season got me hurting real bad. when i thought i was devastated by Remember Me...here comes s2e7 to punch me in the gut

the fact happiness and normalcy was possible for powder...the fact that powder will never use hexcore because of what happened to vi and it made all the difference. vi's death unknowingly protecting her sister (and the world!) from beyond the grave...i am sobbing my eyes out

also as a season one timebomb shipper, thank youuuu arcane writers i didnt expect this at ALLLLLLLLLL???? it was written like everyone knows they were an item except themselves??? i have done nothing to deserve this but thank you

UPDATE: i hv been informed that they are already dating in the alternative universe from background details. even more delicious

i am just happy to be here and prepared to be devastated

vanderco Real. like don't even waste your breath to say they aren't when they look like they are glowing in domestic bliss. what's some light stabbing and drowning between married couples amirite fellas

claggor and mylo!!!! i didn't expect to get emotional seeing them since idrc but seeing them grown up like ohhhh these are vi and jinx's brothers...and they'll never know this life...okay.....

the alternative timeline pretty much put a bandaid to the pain and suffering for the past 2 seasons and as contrast for more suffering. i love it. the writers are so diabolical

heimerdinger sacrificing himself for ekko is ok for me lol idc abt him goodbye cheesepuff

i still need to process the Ambessa vs MelCait fight. im quite sure there's some great parallels there

but Ambessa as a character is sooooo fascinating. while i hv qualms making a prominently Black character be an imperalist warlord (othering her with her accent too), Ambessa i fear is so so very cool and i was slightly rooting for her ngl like i can't hate a cunning ambitious woman it's against my nature!!!!!

i am gonna think abt mel holding up ambessa like repin's painting of ivan the terrible for a longggg time

side note: i love that sevika finally got what silco wanted all along - a seat at the (council)table. like that's my wifeeeeeee. lib ending i know i know since the best ending is a free state of zaun but like narrative wise it would notttt make sense at the point of time. but also since they never confirmed anything, i wanna say they'll have a go at dismantling the power structure that is oppressing zaun with sevika keeping an eye on it. not a perfect solution but i'll take it rather than leave it

so will i watch another show on LoL?

mmmm.......anyways guys watch Penelope of Sparta!

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 1 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You lose your parents while traveling to see your extended family. Through grief and regret, you have to find a way to put the pieces of yourself back together. A stranger comes along and helps you to live again.

Author’s Notes: This piece is written straight from the heart. That entails two things: it is going to be long, and it is going to be dark. With all the death and grief reader is managing, I want to be upfront that this may be a hard one for those going through the same thing to read. Just know it does turn happy eventually, and Arthur helps reader get to that place. As always, don’t read it if it starts to make you uncomfortable.

As an aside, reader does have a relative age—somewhere in her twenties—but I left everything else ambiguous. I had to do that to make the story work. Beyond that I hope you enjoy this one, as it truly is a reflection of the inner workings of my mind. May the healing power of Arthur Morgan save us all :,)

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

One: The Weight of New Burden

Word count: 5565

The night was dark, and your parents were dead. You sat before them, knelt as if in prayer. There was no praying now.

Flashes of earlier memory bit at you like the chilling air, but you didn’t allow them in. You didn’t allow their pain or their reality. There was a bridge, a cliff, the turn of your stomach as you fell. Then this. Then nothing.

Some animal made its sharp call in the night, but you couldn’t turn to listen. Your eyes were stuck staring. You couldn’t think of what kind of beast made that noise, no matter how many times your father had told you. Your father, nothing but a shell on the ground. Broken in the defeat of death, still warm from blood that had run so thick through his veins mere moments ago. Your blood.

You turned to your mother. She was a hard woman, made harder by the life the three of you had lived so far away and so deep in snow. Her hardness was no match for the rocky ground. For the weight of a wagon bearing all of your belongings crashing down on her. Part of her leg was still trapped beneath it, stuck out at a morbid angle.

You turned back to your father, laid their much more peacefully. He could be sleeping if you didn’t look too closely. He could be climbing into his shared bed in the early evening hours, claiming the morning was more worth his while. You could be climbing in beside him, too old to be doing it but clinging to him anyway, glad for his warmth in the house that somehow always let the cold in.

You moved and laid beside him now. Sleeping. All you wanted was to be sleeping beside him. To drift away with both of them, never to be without them again.

You tangled your gloved fingers in his already too stiff ones. You blamed it on the thick fabric and closed your eyes, imagining the rock sticking into your back to be one of the books in the bed your mother was always reading. Imagining the cold to be seeping in under the walls instead of all around you. Imagining you would all wake up in the morning before the sun rose, happy to live another day together.

The shock of things released like a breath, and you allowed yourself a few silent tears before drifting into darkness, letting the night overtake you too.

~

“Christ.”

The echoing word woke you, but you didn’t open your eyes. Everything was wrong. You remembered the trip to Nebraska you were supposed to be taking, the unfamiliarity of where you were. You remembered the pain curling up your side and why you were sleeping on the ground instead of inside the wagon, all covered in blankets and curled between the wall and your mother.

You opened your eyes. It was morning. Far above you hung the bridge that forced a sob from your chest. On the bridge sat a man atop his horse, looking down at you. You shut your eyes again. Maybe he would think you dead too. Maybe he would kill you and this nightmare would finally end.

You could hardly find the will to listen to your surroundings, but you forced yourself to. It was easier than the thoughts that plagued you. You eventually picked up the tracking of a horse’s hooves against stone, riding not above you but from behind. Likely the man who had seen you all the way down here, no more than a smudge of the earth.

“Easy,” you heard, then the clinging sound of the horse’s bit as it obeyed its rider. Boots hit the earth so close by your eyes flinched, but you kept them closed.

The man approached, rocks crushing against each other beneath his boots, spurs clicking with every step. He spoke, low this time. “Jesus.”

He stopped a moment, likely taking in the view of the wreckage you didn’t want to think about. Then he approached again, heading for the wagon a few feet away. He could take it all, you didn’t care. All the provisions and the blankets, all your belongings and what little money your father brought along. The man could take the whole damn wagon and you wouldn’t so much as open an eye. Your parents were all you needed anyway. To die beside them.

The sound of pilfering hands echoed against the rocky walls of the cliff face. The man’s horse snorted behind you. It made you think of your horses. The horses you loved so much, pulling you through two states. You didn’t have to look last night to know they were dead. The older mare your father favored, the young stallion you had raised yourself. They were both gone. All of them, gone. All but you.

A dragging noise met your ears, something scraping against the ground. Then splitting wood, a grunt made in effort of breaking something. You couldn’t help your curiosity and opened your eyes to watch. You studied the man’s back as he broke the wagon apart to get inside of it. It had landed upside down, its back end crashed so flatly against the earth that there was no way to get to its hidden treasures below. Unless you broke it apart, more so than it already had been. Just as he was.

You watched and watched, let the man take a few select provisions without protest. He even lifted your father’s satchel, the one your mother had insisted he keep in the back of the wagon to avoid wanting eyes. And still, you laid there quietly, letting him do it. Where you were going, you wouldn’t need anything of the sort anyway.

You could hardly stand it, but when the man turned and faced your parents, you shut your eyes and stayed still. You let him pick over your mother’s body like a vulture, let him take everything he wanted. Your father was next, and he lifted him slightly so that his fingers were ripped from yours. You laid there limp. Ignored the dull thud of the body beside you when it met the ground again. Ignored the hands that met you, patted you down. Lifted you to search beneath your coat. Only, something must have been different about you. As soon as he moved you, the man froze. Then, slowly, he sat you up.

“You alive?”

How had he known? He shook you, and you let your limbs flail around like a doll. You did pray this time, that he would realize he had made a mistake, that he would think you already gone.

His gloved hand met your face and tapped against your cheek. “Hey,” he said. “You alive in there?” You weren’t. Hadn’t been for a while now.

You heard the sound of fabric against skin, then felt his bare fingers touching your neck. Looking for a pulse. It would give you away. You held your breath, but it would give you away. That damned little lifeline, ruining this good thing you had.

“Shit,” he muttered as his hand fell away. He knew. “You’re either gonna have to wake up, or I’m taking you with me.”

That should have done it, should have made you look at him at least. But he could be talking to a corpse for all he knew. You remained limp in his arms, refusing to do as he said. That is, until he tried to lift you.

You groaned in pain, the wound against your side pulling. He stopped.

“There you are. Wake up for me.”

You wouldn’t let him take you. Wouldn’t let him leave your parents behind.

He patted against your face again. “Come on. I know it hurts.” You knew what he was likely thinking, that falling from that height and surviving was damn near impossible. So you had to be hurt. You just hoped he didn’t notice whatever pain was burning against your rib cage. You didn’t want to be mended.

“Can you open your eyes for me?” Knowing he would try to take you if you didn’t, you let them open a fraction, seeing a blurred face and a bright white sky overtake your vision.

“There,” he said. “Stay with me.” You couldn’t keep them open. Couldn’t watch this. You just wanted to lay down again.

He took your arm and raised it to get a better hold on you. You knew what came next and pulled back. The movement swallowed your body in pain, making you groan again.

“Let me get you up, then you can rest, okay?”

He pulled on you again to lift you, and you finally managed a word. “No.” It was low and pitiful, and you immediately regretted it. You wanted your last words to be spoken to your parents, not this stranger.

“Come on,” he coaxed. “We got to get you up or you’ll die out here.” You shook your head almost imperceptibly, but he caught it. “Yeah we do. Let’s get you up.” He pulled you again, and you didn’t have the strength to fight him. All you could do was reach out, reach for your father’s hand. Grasp for his help one last time. You met those gloved, stiff fingers before the man could pull you up far enough and immediately knew how he had determined you were alive. Unlike you, your father was as stiff as a board. Cold and dead. Gone. That didn’t stop you from grabbing his hand, holding on tight with what little strength you had left.

The stranger tugged on you and met resistance, stopping and turning.

“I know,” he said lowly. “I know you don’t want to leave him.” You didn’t let go, letting tears fill your eyes at those words.

Caught by your gripping fingers, the man gave up trying to lift you and laid you back down. “Tell you what. I got some folk coming through here soon I was out scouting ahead for. How ‘bout we wait for their wagons so we can take the…take your family too?”

You couldn’t answer. You didn’t want to leave here and didn’t want them to either. You wanted to die here beside them.

When the man waited long enough to know you wouldn’t answer, he took it as compliance enough. “Okay then. You just rest. They’ll be here soon.”

A sob racked your frame. They would be—your parents. They had to be. They would come reach out their hands and lead you to eternity themselves. You couldn’t stand the thought of anything else.

You slowly rolled onto your good side and into your father, burrowing into his warm coat sleeve. It smelled like him. Woodsmoke and snow and horses. You wanted to be between him and your mother, but she was too far. Broken and bent wrong, too far gone for your delusional mind to believe you were laid in bed beside her. So you cradled your father, sobs shaking through you, warm tears spilling across your nose and hitting the ground.

After long enough that you hoped the man had gone away, you cracked your eyes open again. He was still there, watching the bridge above. Waiting. You wanted to tell him to leave. But like earlier, you couldn’t get the words out and didn’t want to. Each word not said to your parents felt wrong.

He turned and saw you looking at him. “Any minute,” he said. Like you were hoping for rescue. You shook your head and turned back to your father, the pain in your side beginning to throb.

You soon heard voices, a few shouted words. You caught one of them echoing down from above: bridge. Be careful, they were likely saying. Narrow bridge ahead. Too narrow for your own father to navigate, to keep a wheel from catching over the side.

The man beside you shouted, his voice so loud you startled. “Hey! Down here!”

“Arthur?” another man shouted back. “You okay down there?”

“I need some help,” he answered. “Send a wagon.”

You reached out and grabbed the man’s arm. He turned to you. You shook your head at him, trying to make him understand. You wouldn’t leave this place. Wouldn’t take your parents away.

“I can’t take all three of you,” he said. You shook your head with more urgency, but he only turned away, looking back up. “I ain’t leaving you here.”

You wanted to tell him, please do. But you couldn’t get the words out.

You tugged on his heavy coat, curling closer to your father when he looked at you again.

“No,” he said, enough of a demand in his voice for you to know he had made up his mind. “You’re coming with us. We’ll bury them proper.”

You felt a tear escape at that. Burying them…here was as proper as anywhere. More so. You didn’t want to take another step of this journey without them. You tugged on his sleeve again.

“Quit it,” he said, shaking your hand off. “I’m not leaving you.”

You gave up, turning back to your father, closing your eyes once more. You tried to let the life leak out of you. But even you knew you were too far from death, too rooted in living to get there. You imagined it instead, imagined what eternity with them would look like.

After a while, the creaking of wagon wheels met your ears. This was no place for a wagon. Not for one standing or one crashed aground.

“You okay, son?” came that same voice from before.

“Fine,” the man beside you answered, standing. “Girl here’s alive.”

Girl. Not woman, despite your age. You always got onto your mother for calling you that. But now it felt proper. Now it felt like daughter, like you belonged to the two laying beside you.

“Alive?” said a voice you hadn’t yet heard.

The man walked toward the others. “She’ll be all right, but her folks…” He walked farther away, dropping his voice. But you could still hear every damning word. “Folks are dead. She won’t leave them.”

“Won’t leave them?” one of them replied.

You wouldn’t look at them. Couldn’t. Their wagon and their passengers so whole, yours so broken.

“I told her we could take them, bury them proper. Ground’s too hard here.”

You knew just how hard the ground was. First hand. How it hadn’t killed you, you couldn’t figure.

One of the newcomers spoke. “We’d have to bring another wagon down, lighten the load a little.”

The load. Like your parents had become nothing but weight. You couldn’t stand it. You lifted your head, eyeing them. The wagon was closer than you thought, your vision still slightly blurry. Maybe you’d hit your head.

“Hello there,” said the one on the right, an older man. “No need to be afraid, we’re here to help you.”

No they weren’t. They were here to take you away.

You gathered your strength and moved, ignoring the pain in your side. It was so much harder to do now than it had been last night. Like the shock of the fall had worn off. You sat up on your knees, looking at the three men. Then, to prove a point, you made them watch as you crawled over your father and laid down right on top of him, never taking your eyes off of them. Speaking would be easier, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“What’s that about?” the man on the left asked.

The one who had come down alone earlier, younger than the other two now that you could see them all, spoke. “She keeps doing that. Doesn’t want to leave.”

“She’ll die,” the other said. You nodded at him. Let him see, let them all see how desperately you wanted that.

“You have any other family?” the older man asked.

You thought of your father’s siblings in Nebraska, of their growing families. Of the reason you had been taking this trip in the first place. You couldn’t face them now, not without your parents.

You shook your head. Maybe it would get them to leave you alone. The older man turned to the others, and they all stared at each other in silent conversation. Finally, the younger man sighed, turning toward the wagon. “You two go back up then. I’ll get this done and let her do what she wants.” He pried a shovel off the wagon, turning and making for you.

“Ground’s too hard here,” the older man assured him.

“I’ll figure it out,” he answered. “Y’all go on, I’ll catch up.”

A small part of you was grateful to him. For helping you and doing as you asked, no matter how senseless.

When the others took the wagon away, leaving only you and the younger man, you looked up at him. He was staring at you, studying you like a wild animal. Maybe you weren’t so different from one.

His face softened some. “Where you want ‘em?”

Your chest caught. You hadn’t thought of it. You hadn’t thought this would be done so quickly, without any sort of ceremony, without all the recognition they deserved. Just you. Just a stranger that had robbed them less than an hour ago.

You would find the strength to do it for them. You wouldn’t leave them laying here like this. As much as you wanted to join them, it was becoming glaringly obvious you wouldn’t die alongside them. It was your duty to do this right, to be there for them when no one else would be.

Ignoring your pain, you backed off of your father and raised up onto your knees, looking to the trees leading up to the cliffside. The nearest was a lumbering pine, its roots reaching through the rocky shale effortlessly. Like it had been here longer than you’d been alive.

You pointed to the tree’s base, drawing the man’s attention. He dropped his head then sighed, picking up the shovel. Heading for it. You watched all the while. Watched him pick a spot and lift his shovel, bringing it down on ground so tough he hardly made a dent. He cursed. He lifted it higher and tried again. The ground didn’t budge any more the second time. He took to running his boot over the ground, checking for places the rock gave way to softer dirt. When he was satisfied, he lifted the shovel. This time, the ground gave.

He raised the shovel and moved to a spot a few feet away, trying again. The ground gave there too. He raised his head, looking over at you. “This’ll do. It’s gonna take me some time, breaking up all these roots.”

“Don’t kill the tree.”

You were as surprised to hear your voice as he was. You just couldn’t stand the tree dying too.

“She speaks,” he said, going back to his shoveling.

You watched him then, watched him a long time. So long that he began to sweat with the work, stopping to shed his huge fur-lined coat. He kept going. He got to the second grave. You debated who should go in which. As much as it pained you to think it, your mother needed to go on the left, your father on the right. Because that was how they had slept around you for over two decades.

You didn’t realize you were crying until a gust of wind shifted the air, making the wetness on your face turn cold. It was too much. You couldn’t do this.

Would the stranger bury you alive if you asked him to?

As soon as you had the thought, he turned to you. “Come look, see if I got this how you want it.”

You stood silently. Your side burned, but it wasn’t unbearable. Remarkably, almost unbelievably, you didn’t think you were hurt anywhere else. You just ached. Though that may not have been from pain.

You eyed your father at your feet then moved, walking toward the trees. Like a child learning to walk, a woman learning to navigate the world, all on her own.

You stepped up to the graves and looked down at them with the man. Roughly cut holes in the ground. A few of the roots from the tree had been preserved, sticking out of the sides. It made you want to smile, but smiling made you want to cry. Instead, you turned and went back for your father. If you didn’t do this now, you never would.

You thought of the pair of them living under this tree forever, the roots twining around them both until they were one. Part of the land and nothing more than memory. It was better than you could have done for them out here, all alone.

You reached your father and smoothed his coat out. Avoiding the pallid look of his skin, you noted his hat was gone. You searched the nearby ground for it.

“What is it?” the man asked, coming up behind you.

You motioned to your head and continued looking, rounding the wagon’s back end. You soon heard a board shift and looked over—he was pulling the hat out from under the wagon.

“This it?”

You nodded, going over to take it from him. He spoke before you could.

“We need to get your momma out from under there.”

Something about him using that word, calling her what you always called her…it crushed you. He didn’t even have to be told these were your parents. Because it was obvious. You had her hair. You had his nose. Your shoulders began to shake, and you were crying again, turning away so the man couldn’t see.

You felt his hand on your shoulder. “I’ll do it. You’re in no state to lift the wagon anyway. Just hold her for me, would you?”

You could hold her. Had wanted to, had been too afraid to touch her in such a fragile state. You nodded and let him lead the way.

Your mother was face down, the only part of her trapped under the wagon her leg. If you ignored that, she looked peaceful too. You were afraid to turn her over, just as you were afraid to move your father. You had a feeling whatever damage had been done was worse on their undersides.

The man set your father’s hat down and stepped up to the wagon side, preparing to lift it. You stepped up to your mother. You crouched and touched her back, the same cold lifelessness meeting your gloved hand as it had when you touched your father. You swallowed your sorrow and steeled yourself. You owed this to her.

With a grunt, the man lifted the wagon and attempted to push her leg out from under it. You couldn’t watch, knowing how wrong it would look, but you could help. You could hold her one last time. You wrapped your arms around your mother as you had so lovingly before and pulled.

“There,” the man said, letting the wagon back down with a crash of more broken wood. You couldn’t stand the sound—you were sobbing again.

“You take whatever time you need. I’ll carry ‘em over when you’re ready.”

You wordlessly thanked him for it. You had been dreading that, wanting to remember them as whole and nothing more. So this would be the last time you looked upon them. You would recall them sleeping, resting. Waiting for you.

You heard the man walk away as you let your mother go. Looking between her and her husband she loved so dearly. The only man to ever soften her.

His hat was resting beside him now, another small kindness from the stranger. You waited until he was far enough away not to overhear you before saying a word. Then you spoke, swearing it would be the last time you ever did so.

“I know why you wanted to take this trip.” You whispered it through a sob and were surprised to hear the words. Their reasons didn’t matter now. But it had mattered enough to you before to act coldly toward them. Now all you wanted was to tell them you understood. They had just been trying to show you love any way they knew how. You wanted to take back all that resentment, show them the love you felt in return. So you said it aloud. No matter that it would fall on unhearing ears.

“And I understand it now, and I forgive you for it…” You broke down, words impossible. How to sum up how deeply you cared for them in so little time? Your father always said it was actions that mattered, not words. Maybe that was all you could stomach anyway.

You bent down and kissed your mother on the side of her face, what little bit of it was showing. You moved and kissed your father on the forehead. You put his hat back on his head. They were too far apart for you to grab both of their hands. So you laid between them, facing the sky.

“Another morning,” you whispered, the cold air stinging your face. The words your father always woke with, repeating like a prayer. And your mother’s constant reply. “May it be as kind as you are.”

Your eyes welled with sadness, so you shut them. Back in the drafty room you had grown up in. Between your sleeping parents.

“I love you both.” You half heartedly wished death had been close by all along, waiting for you to say this to take you. But the pain in your side was too real. And the darkness behind your eyes wasn’t full enough. And your parents were on the wrong sides of the bed.

You laid there and cried for a long time. You weren’t sure how long, only that it didn’t feel right to get up and leave them now. To keep on living. It was unfair.

You heard the same animal from the night before make its loud call, the only thing to stir you. It was an elk. Strong and proud and always afraid. The three of you combined. But if you were the fearful one, when would you ever be allowed to rest?

You sat up, turning toward the sound. It was too far for the animal to be in view. But in that direction was the man from before, the one you had completely forgotten about. He was turned away, watching the sky. Waiting. You thought of his offer to go away from this place and felt that fear clutch you tightly. But what else would you do? Stubbornly stay here, neglect the very thing your parents had wanted for you? It was your refusal to take this trip all over again. You wished with such harsh regret that you had stood firm, made them stay home with you. Then they wouldn’t be lying broken on the ground, and you wouldn’t have to force yourself to do something you could never find the will to do in the first place. But your parents had wanted you to start your own life, one out of the snow and the hardship. Maybe this was the world’s cruel way of forcing you.

You sighed, shaking off your crippling sorrow and rising to your feet. You gave one last look at your parents. As much as you hated it, you would do it for them. Of course you would.

Within the hour, the man had brought them both to their final resting places and married the dirt with the ground it belonged to. He had asked if you wanted to do the honors, to speak over them, anything. You couldn’t even find the will to shake your head at him. You just watched from a distance, knowing you didn’t want to see them like this anyway.

When the deed was done and the man stepped away, wiping his brow with the effort, you turned and walked back to the wagon without a word. It was over. And you were still alive.

The man spoke. “Look, I know it ain’t my place but…you don’t need to be staying out here. There’s bears and wolves and all manner of animal that’ll eat you for the hell of it.”

He didn’t understand it and likely never would—what wanting to die looked like. But as much as you hated it, he was right. You wouldn’t meet your death here because of the same stubbornness your parents had tried so hard to correct.

You refused to respond and got to the wagon, prying through its broken boards and trying your best to ignore the sound. You wanted the keepsake you had been too weak to consider taking until now. You hadn’t truly thought you would find the strength to leave them, to need something like this. But the stranger of a man had come along like your parents’ very own dying wish, and you wouldn’t wrong them again.

You crawled on your belly underneath the wagon, the inside of it nearly unrecognizable—a tangle of ripped canvas and splintered wood. You dug through what the man had left behind after his search for anything valuable, knowing this wasn’t something he would have taken. You lifted a blanket and heard a familiar ruffle of pages as something small fell to the ground. Underneath the blanket lay the leather-clad book your father couldn’t bring himself to get rid of—a ledger. Though it hadn’t started out that way. You recalled growing up and learning your letters from your mother, sitting beside your father as she forced him to do the same. You picked up the ledger and looked through the first few pages, his terrible attempts at words. You knew without having to look further their spelling got better over time, though his handwriting never did. Then how his words turned to numbers, to how much hay and meat and skins he had sold or traded, how much the three of you needed to survive. It was obvious on the pages you had pored over time and again that words were not his specialty. The concern and care he showed his family was, written in determined number after number.

You closed the ledger and clutched it tightly to your chest. It was your father’s essence, your mother’s determination to teach him. You would hold onto it like your life depended on it.

You heard a knock on the wagon side and startled. The man was staring in at you. Maybe he was beginning to understand you better—he didn’t say a word. Didn’t try to convince you to come out. That alone had you feeling a little less uneasy. You were taught not to trust strangers, but this man had done more than most people you knew well would. The least you could do was show some semblance of thankfulness and let him take you somewhere safe enough to please him before you parted ways.

He moved out of the way as you shimmied out from under the wagon, outright ignoring your pain. It was a fickle thing to you now. It came and went, and you couldn’t give much care to it one way or the other. It just was. Just as the state of the wagon was. Just as the newly dug graves were, forever marring the ground now.

You clambered to your feet with ledger in hand and faced the man, unspeaking.

“You coming then?”

You hesitated, knowing how this would shape your life. To live or to die. To do as your parents wanted or to live the way they had—not long enough.

You met the stranger’s eye and nodded at him.

“All right then. Come on,” he said, as simply as if you had just agreed to a warm meal or night’s rest. Not your life. He motioned you to follow and made for his horse. “Name’s Arthur.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer. Your name circled through your head, one of the last things your parents had given you that was still yours to hold. He didn’t need to know it anyway.

He soon mounted his horse and helped you up. You settled onto the back of the beast, making it shift with the new weight. Unnecessary weight. An added burden. That’s all you were now. The only purpose you stood lay hundreds of miles away in either direction. So where to go and what to do if not lay underneath the dirt beside your parents? They would have been able to tell you. But that was the very thinking that had warranted this trip.

You gave one last look at the rough-cut graves now covered with earth, noting the tree, the rock face, the bridge you would not forget. You would be back someday. You would not let them lie here forever, unknown and uncared for.

When the newly named stranger spurred his horse forward, you were filled with every ounce of hurt, pain, regret. Determination. You would not let the two people that mattered most to you die thoughtlessly, in vain. You would meet them again with a story to tell. For them, you would live. Crushed beneath the weight of death, you would live.

_________

Chapter two is here.

[little-bloodied-angel]

This morning I woke up and my right leg was screaming. The pain was so intense and brutal it was what woke me; I had to sink my teeth into my pillow and scream, too. Every cell from hip to knee is (yes, still) burning, liquid acid going through my veins; and the calf is strained and cramped and protesting the extra work as hard as it can.

I still had to use the bathroom; when I tried to stand up it buckled, like a lightning bolt went through it, and I went to the floor. Even just rotating in bed to get out was agonizing on my hip. My foot was numb, full of pins and needles for lack of proper circulation.

I limped there, dragging my leg behind, supporting my weight on the wall and gritting my teeth. The process of sitting down and standing up almost made me black out.

Over the sink, I looked at myself in the mirror and willed myself not to cry. When I came back into my room I caught sight of my medications on my bedside table, the myriad of pills I'll be taking for as long as I live. The Tramadol on top of them was mocking me, and I did cry then.

I remember everything my body could do. I remember flying. I remember the fall, too, the agonized animal screams that seemed to come from outside my body, the brutal audible SNAP of muscle and tendon, the bone against the hardwood, the hushed whisper-shouts of "get help -she can't move -she can't walk -god, her leg!"

The doctor's office and his placid smile as he told me I was "lucky" because my ACL didn't require surgery at the same time he delivered my death sentence, or what may as well been.

"A career in ballet is no longer an option for you".

I know he didn't understand how people who dance with the goals I did live and die for that dancing. He thought I was young and I'd find something else to do. I was young and a part of me died in that accident and I had to bury it.

I remember a different doctor, a different office, her worried face scanning my psychiatric history like she thought I'd kill myself right in front of her because of the diagnosis as she told me what I already knew.

"You have fibromyalgia. I'll prescribe medication to manage it, you have to be careful with it. But..."

But it'll never get better. You'll always hurt. It'll get worse. I already knew that. I just wanted someone to sign on it, because it turns out that when doctors perceive you as female, complaints of chronic pain tend to fall by the wayside, particularly if you have a history of mental illness. She took me seriously. She warned me about my leg, about what a flareup would do somewhere I'm already hurting all the time, and I kept myself from barking at her I fucking know, that's part of what it's been like for almost a decade because at least she believed me.

I mourned my body again, all the same.

I lay in bed gripping my thigh, trying to will the spasms down, trying to decide between yelling and sobbing, trying to figure out why: had I slept on it wrong? Was it the weather? It had hurt after walking too much on Monday, but not as much as I expected; a delayed reaction? It didn't matter, in the end; it wasn't going to take the pain away.

I thought of Izzy, as I tore my lips apart with my teeth to feel something that wasn't my damn leg. I thought of how real he felt, the tears and the screaming, the gritted teeth, the suicidal loss of identity. The loneliness. I thought of his stubbornness, his progress. How much both of those realities meant. How they thrashed it all, in one moment, and all but told us, the ones that feel like him, "when the desire to die comes back just do it. You've outlived what you were, so who you are has *had enough*", and my mouth tasted like blood for more than one reason.

He meant so much. He could have meant so much more. And we have to wipe the spit of this insult from our faces and carry on and accept it was part of a happy ending.

He might've forgiven it all; he was a character and you made him. I don't. I won't. I'm still here, with my pain and anger, and I refuse to die so the people who want me gone can live in peace. And I refuse to be quiet and accept that for a happy ending I should fade away.

If you can't understand this anger, at least don't insult me and others like me by telling us there's no reason for it.

I'm hazy with pain and aware that I'm rambling. But whatever I don't bleed in ink will poison me.

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 13 - You will never be alone

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Includes many other characters from Fallout

Synopsis: The world is a blur of lights and sounds, Lucy is convinced she is dying. The thing had ripped her heart right out of her chest, was this what going to the other side was like? Her whole body jerked, the blurry faces of someone or something hovering over her. Was it back to watch her die, to make sure she would stay dead? 

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning: Medical stuff, Animal/people death, dead animal mutilation, general horror, religious themes, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Older Man/Younger Woman,

Note: Thank you to all those who are still reading <3

The word is repeated over, and over again, in hundreds of different languages, and yet none seem to make sense. The men fold over clutching at their ears, the one man trying to ask it to stop, but it refuses. Lucy watches as the indigenous man grabs the knife, and cuts open his arm. Before handing it over to the other man, he hesitates but does the same. The blood covers the straw in a dirty red color. The noise slowly fades as the shadow goes down to the bundles, swirling over top of it. She watches as the white man’s eyes go wide, he stumbles backward as he looks at the thing. Lucy watches the native man’s head tip back in a roar of laughter shaking his head at him. 

Time flows in front of Lucy, person after person coming, sometimes they offer animals, sometimes bundles of what they are growing. Their languages change, slowly becoming more and more recognizable. Time changes and a tractor comes down the hill in a spill of smoke, a dozen large stumps in the bucket. Each stump is covered in different writing ruins, the same ones Lucy had seen in the bible. Each had been carefully marked and painted, how they had looked before hundreds of years had passed. She watches as a different man walks down the hill, he leans heavily on his son and his cane. He carefully directs each of his children to place the stumps. The first stump goes down near the opening to the forest, he watches as his children move the next ones before walking over to the first. The darkness, now more grey, comes to sit beside him. Its shadowy form wrapping itself around the elderly man. A smile crosses his face, as he leans into the heavily shadowed form. As he sits there, chest rising and falling in quick pants, he speaks slowly out loud into the forest. The shadow seems to help him sit up, wrapping him almost like a blanket. The sun is setting as the young adults emerge out of the lush forest, the light covering each one in golden dust.

He gestures for them to come sit with him, speaking words she cannot hear. They sit there, the two eldest holding his hands carefully. Lucy watches, in both horror and amazement as the creature starts to sink into him, its body and the man’s body becoming one. A small choking sob rings out in the forest, as the man’s mouth opens and closes, eyes rolling back as his sons hold him, then silence. The creature slowly unfurls from the man, another form comes out of the man. It’s a much younger man, but still with the same smile, he walks away from his older body. He comes over to the creature in the air, the two rest each other's foreheads against the other. The shadow lets go of a man, a small flash of light happens and the younger man is gone. 

The world wavers, turning, titling, and moving again. Now in front of Lucy is her Grandfather sobbing at the stump. It’s older now, the ruins and script fade and are worn by the rain, sunshine, and snow. The darkness is a swirling dark mass, just as dark if not dark now, as if its whole being is now absorbing light. A black hole, its voice starts to mock him, calling his name in voices Lucy knows as her Uncle and Dad. It swirls above him, hissing and spitting, the once great bright being now black gnarled, and starved. 

“Please, please, just bring back my sons,” Tim cries out, “Please. I am sorry. I was wrong, they are my boys. Take me, take me instead. It’s my firstborn sons.” 

“Too late Dad,” The creature hisses in Hank’s voice. It morphs itself to look like a twisted version of his son. The thing walks through ground cover, footprints melting any foliage as it walks around and around him, leaving black goo behind it.

Tim shutters, a knife in his hand, he fiddles with it, turning it over and over again. Fingers tracing the ancient worn symbols. “It won’t happen again, please.”

It won’t happen again. Too late Dad. TOO LATE DAD. 

Her Grandpa sobs, the knife stabbing into the tree trunk. He looks up at the thing as it towers over him, wiping at the snot running down his face. The monster's long fingers tip his chin up to look right at him. 

“You will never see your sons again.” It whispers in a thousand voices, dust and embers spitting out of the mockery of a mouth. “I will take everything from you if you do this again. I will burn this world to dust and rebuild on your bones.”

Lucy's own cries don’t echo, she can only observe as the focus shifts. It’s her and Norm, it couldn’t have been more than a year after Rose had left. The two argued about how big robin’s eggs were, and if the eggs were actually blue. Norm declaring he would find it in their encyclopedia set and show Lucy she was wrong. The two of them continue to argue about birds, while walking with a basket between them, Shirley not far behind. Their feet leave small indents in the soft black dirt. The creature follows overhead, watching them, its body now grey again. Slender moving so easily it didn’t even rustle the leaves. Lucy follows it going back to the central clearing. Harris walks down the hill with two dead rabbits in hand. The man's face is set in grim focus, the shadow moves so it sits just above him in a tree over the stump. Tim carefully places the rabbits there, getting onto his knees palms facing up. 

“I bring an offering, I give life for life, I am part of this soil, and this soil is part of me.” He says out loud.” Tim takes the blood from the rabbits, writing ruins into the stump. “May I be guided by the one who lives here, may my crops be flush, may my family be safe. Please keep them safe.” A small sob rips from his chest as he retraces the ruins. “I give my life, for life, I am the soil and the soil is me.”

The darkness now sits beside her, watching the man repeat the prayer over and over until the stump is covered. It points a long gnarled finger at Tim, then turns and points it towards her. 

“This is what you want me to do?” Lucy asks, already knowing the answer. It was what her ancestors had been doing since they had arrived here. Of course, that’s what it would want.

The thing presses its nail against her chest, cutting the skin, red oozing out of the cut. It pulls its nail back something like a tongue coming out and licking at it. Lucy watches it's skin ripple and move, the skin lighting and shimmering, changing right in front of her.

“If I do this?” Lucy shutters, watching the thing swirl in various shapes and forms. It could be anything, yet it sat beside her in its raw form, a never-ending image of everything. “No more eating cows?”

The things face shifted into various faces, some she knew others she didn’t. Her father, her mother, Norm, Grandpa, Uncle Shaun, Harris, Janey, Bert, Matthias, Max, and more. Lucy reached out to touch its face, it was cold, scaly, like nothing and everything. 

“Stop,” Lucy said loudly, “Stop. I didn’t know. No one knew.” Its face stopped, elongating into something similar to a coyote but not quite. Long jaw, sharp teeth, amber eyes, body covered in glittering scale.

“Why do you lie,” The thing said, for once it had no venom in its voice. It was doubting its own words. “All your species does is lie and destroy.”

“Yeah, you’re fuckin right,” Lucy states, feeling anger bubble up under her skin. “I can’t change everyone, I can’t. But I can promise to try.”

The thing puts his face right against hers, leaning in Lucy feels her body prickle and then it’s dark. Lucy gasps trying to take a breath but she can feel it inside of her. Panic fills her brain and mind as she tries to scratch and claw to try to get it out. She can’t move. Her body and mouth are frozen, but she can feel it moving around inside of her. The way the textured skin pushes and grinds against her insides, how it pushes at her organs. Her lungs screaming for her to breathe, to just open her mouth and take in air. 

Guttural screams come out of the woods, Lucy’s eyes fly open, gasping and gaping for the sweet cool forest air, her skin breaking out in gooseflesh at the noise. She looks across the forest, Cooper is there suspended in the air above one of the cursed stumps. His arms stretched out above his head, a slash goes across his chest. It rips through his clothes and into the flesh, spraying blood over the dirt. Blood oozing out of dozens of wounds, his face set in a grimace as the thing circles him, looking for the next place to lash out. 

“STOP,” Lucy sobs, the weight of it all making her feel like she would be crushed. Her legs won’t work, fingers digging into the soil under her. Her face set in a grimace as she screams at it. 

The thing was moving now, right into her face, the ember-glowing orbs burning into her. The monster swirls around her, Lucy forces herself to keep her eyes locked on it. She grinds her teeth, feeling the bones rub against each other, the pain in her jaw grounding her to the here and now.

“Whatever you want.” Lucy pants, the muscle in her body aching from being tensed up for so long. It could have been weeks or months, it was too much, this had to end now. “I don’t care.” She spits, finally getting her fingers to work and rolls up her sleeve sticking it out to the thing. 

It moves down head moving back and forth like a snake waiting to take a bite out of its prey. Its face changes, to look like Cooper’s, its skin changing until it is a near-perfect replica of the man. What gives it away is the eyes, they are too dark, the gold and green flecks missing. It comes forward, fingers too long, hands too thin cupping her face, her whole body is screaming at her to run. The memory of feeling it sliding around inside her made her skin break into gooseflesh.

Instead, she relaxes, leaning against its touch, forcing herself to accept whatever would happen. It stops a hair away from her. The smell of decay, soil, and moss fills her nose. A sharp pain explodes just under her left collarbone. A scream rings out of her throat, looking down she sees the hand that was once caressing her cheek buried inside her chest. 

***

The world is a blur of lights and sounds, Lucy is convinced she is dying. The thing had ripped her heart right out of her chest, was this what going to the other side was like? Her whole body jerked, the blurry faces of someone or something hovering over her. Was it back to watch her die, to make sure she would stay dead? 

“Lucy?” Someone spoke, it sounded so far away. “We got some eye movement.”

The rush of adrenaline that spiked through her had her throwing the men off her as she scrambles to get at all the tubes that were now stuck in her out. She didn’t want anything in her, she could still feel it inside her. Hands were grabbing at her arms pulling her back onto the metal gurney. She tries to talk, coughing, gagging on the tube in her throat.

She feels the straps holding her down, the EMTs trying to get her relaxed as she fights back. There is a sharp jab, the darkness starts to seep into the world spinning as she loses the fight against the medication. The rough texture of things skin pushes against her, it’s still there, pushing and grating away. It’s voice whispering words she couldn’t quite make out. It was never going to leave, it was a part of her now. 

You will never be alone.

***

Everything hurts, and she can't move. Lucy focuses on one finger first, forcing her pointer finger to bend and push against the sheets. As it starts to move other senses start to wake up. Her eyelids are so heavy, that she can't open them yet. As she swallows she can feel the tube pressing into her throat, her lips dry and cracked, tongue pressed down. With every new sensation, she starts to be able to move more. Lucy's hands clench and unclench, eyes flicking open. The room comes into focus, she coughs and sputters. Before reaching to grab at the tube, she needs it out of her throat, she needs to breathe to know she is not dead.

“Whoa, whoa, sweety,” A feminine voice rings in her ears, hands finally moving Lucy tries to rip the tube out of her throat. The hands are stopping her, eyes bugging out as the nurse holds her down calling for help. 

Lucy is surrounded, hands holding her down as someone pulls the tube out. She wretches, coughing and gasping for breath, eyes wide. Everyone is blurry and Lucy wants them all to leave. The hospital room feels chilly despite the multiple blankets lying on her. There is an IV in one arm, the tube is gone, and several monitor stickies are all over her. Yet the one feeling she can’t let go of is the thing still crawling around inside of her. Her hands claw at her skin, moving the blanket away to reveal her stomach, swearing that she would see it move under her skin. Nothing moves, her stomach sucking in and expanding as she pants. 

“Lucy, honey, you are okay.” One of the nurses says, but Lucy is anything but okay right now. “You were brought in three days ago.” 

“Where-” She coughs more, someone holding a glass with a straw she takes a few sips, “Where am I.”

“You’re in Swancity Regional Hospital.” The older nurse speaks, the others slowly letting go of her now that Lucy has stopped fighting. 

“What happened?” Lucy coughs more, the tube coming out so fast has left her throat feeling raw. 

“Not sure, darling. You were a right mess when you showed up, fighting us tooth and nail.” The woman pats Lucy’s arm. “Somehow despite all the bruises and marks you're not in bad shape. Not like the other two. Sorry, we had to intubate you, but for some reason, you would stop breathing. Not sure what that was about either.”

“Cooper? Bert?” Lucy forced out, making herself drink more water to try and get her voice to work. She needed to know if they were okay if the thing had let them out of the forest. 

Virol 

The words rattle inside her brain, pressure pushing against her eyes making them water and go blurry. Lucy grabs one of the metal dishes beside her on the stand promptly vomiting into it. That was its name, Virol. It was still inside her. The nurse tells the other to grab the doctor on the floor, to come and check on her.

“It’s all right, drink some water. We will get you some promethazine to calm your stomach. Do you want a ginger ale?” She asks quietly, going over to a few vomit bags for her.

“Who came in with me?” Lucy pushes, taking a couple of sips of water from the plastic glass. If she thought her legs would hold her she’d have been out of bed to go find them.

“Think it was two men. Cooper and Bert? Or Robert.” Nurse Lily replies, Lucy, seeing that her name is on her lanyard. “But let me get you something to drink and I think Maggie will bring Dr. Kallians in to check you over..”  

Lucy watches the woman move out of the room, quietly sliding the door closed behind her. She immediately went back to her stomach, pulling her gown up to look at the bruised skin. Her eyes searching for any sign of movement, expecting her stomach to push up like something out of a movie.

A flash of Not Cooper with its hand in Lucy’s chest burst into her mind like a landslide. Her hand moves from her stomach to just under her left collarbone, pushing back the gown she feels at the skin. At first, it’s almost not noticeable, but as she presses harder she can feel it. A faint ridge of pucker skin, it feels like an old scar, but it’s new. She ran over it a few more times, it was roughly the length of her collarbone and maybe a quarter of an inch wide.  

“Here you go dear,” Lucy nearly jumps out of her bed when Lily comes back, a packet with a tablet in it and a cup of ginger ale. “You okay? Is there something there?”

Lucy moves her fingers away, unsure of what to do or say. The nurse comes and stands beside her, waiting for her answer. 

“It’s umm, I am not sure,” Lucy mutters, somehow feeling like the woman won’t believe that a forest deity had stuck its hand inside her chest. 

“Lucy, I see you’re back.” Dr. Kallians states as she comes in with her tablet. “Hello nurse Lily, is there something going on?”

Lily looks at Lucy and then back towards the doctor. “I am not sure. Lucy?”

Lucy sinks back into the bed but pushes open her gown, “It feels like something is there.”

The doctor walks over, adjusting her glasses, so she can look at Lucy's skin. Turning she grabs a glove before pushing the gown back to push and prod at the skin.

“Feels like old scar tissue,” Dr Kallian states looking at Lucy. “Did you injure yourself previously?”

“Yeah, that must be it,” Lucy gives a small smile, not wanting to go into too much depth. A trip to the ward was not on her to-do list today. “Is Cooper and Bert okay?” 

“I can’t give you any updates on them. Your focus is to get yourself better, you were on a ventilator for three days.” The doctor scolds her, as she writes some stuff on her ipad. “We will need to do some scans and blood work, as well I am recommending you get a psych eval as well.”

“I need to know if they are alive.” Lucy bites back, “I am not crazy, I am worried about my family.”

“Lucy?” Looking up she sees Harris and Margie come in, their eyes red, faces pale. A smile cracks across Margie’s face as she sees Lucy up and alert. The woman leans down to embrace her as best she can. Harris wipes his eyes as he comes over and also gives a hug. 

Dr. Kallian greets them before disappearing out the door, Lucy relaxes a little as her family settles around them. Tears form in her eyes, this was all too much to take in and too many unanswered questions. The emotions bubbling up in her chest and spilling out of her eyes. 

“Oh lord bless us,” Margie sobs, Harris pulling a chair over so Margie can sit. Before he also sits down beside his wife. “I am so happy you’re awake.”

Lucy takes a tissue, thanking Harris as she wipes her tears. “I don’t remember what happened. I remember going back into the forest-” Lucy trails off, unsure how to explain her discussion with the entity in the woods.  “Did John make it?  Bert? Cooper- please tell me they are alive.”

Harris grabs her hand holding it, his eyes glassy as he looks at her. “B-bert, he is here. But he is in rough shape, he is breathing on his own. But hasn’t woken up yet. The doctors think it was some kind of animal attack.”

Lucy feels Virol slither over her ribs and down around her back. She shifts wanting to scratch at her skin, to peel it open and pull it out of her body. It wasn’t an animal, no it was something much larger than that, unexplainable really. 

Margie leans against Harris rubbing his arm, “John. John made it to the hospital. He lost both his legs under the knee. But he will live.”

Lucy could feel hot snot running down her face, as she dabs at her nose, wiping her eyes messily with her IV free hand. “I am s-s-so sorry, Harris. I am so sorry Margie. I am so sorry.”  She repeats it over and over, Margie hushing her softly. “I shouldn’t have taken them. Oh god, what have I done? What have I done?”

“Lucy Maclean, you stop that,” Harris says, softly but firmly. “You didn’t know. We all didn’t know.”

“I should have known. We should have waited,” Lucy is shaking now, the feeling of the monster moving around inside her, it was never going to leave. She wants to run out of there, wants to scream, rip her hair from her skull. But Margie and Harris grip onto her hands and arms tightly, keeping her grounded there.

“We can’t Lucy,” Margie shutters, thumb rubbing soothing circles into Lucy’s skin. Her eyes shone with tears, the woman looked just as worn as Lucy felt.  “You wanted to do right by John. It’s what we do, we help each other. You all came out alive. Don’t discount that, don’t dismiss it.”

Lucy shutters, Harris getting up to find her another blanket, he wraps it around her. Kissing the top of her head. 

“You are no more at fault than I am, Lucy,” Harris says, sitting down in the chair. He looked decades older, his usually well-maintained hair was sticking out from under his ball cap. His beard was scruffy, eyes lined with dark circles.  “I am just happy you made it out.”

“Cooper?” Lucy asks, taking another tissue to blow her nose, she could still see him hanging in the air with blood dripping down from open wounds. The way his face was screwed up as Virol tore into him.  

Margie nods, looking over at Harris then back to Lucy, “He was in surgery for several hours. You got him out of there, I am not sure how but you did, no one could find any of you. They are still worried about his legs, but we won’t know until he wakes up”

“But he is alive?” Lucy asks, her heart aching to see him. To see the real him, not the false one that creature had put on, to hold his hand. His hand with fingers not unnervingly long, that were warm and covered hers just right. “I want to see him.”

“Not now hon,” Margie soothes her, rubbing Lucy’s arm. “You’ve been out for three days, you need to rest. Once he is awake, we will bring you over to him.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Fourteen final part

** Please note any medical inaccuracy are mine and mine alone, I am always up for learning! I tried my damnest

**want to be on the tag list? add your name below

@toogaytofunctiondangit , @hiddlebatchedloki @whatsorceressisthis @dichromaniac @autumncryptids

@therealcozyaxoltol

[mrs-gauche]

Vows & Vengeance Episode 1

ALRIGHT GUYS! As always, I'm super late to the party (although for once, I actually have a good reason, which is that I'm currently kinda in the middle of renovating my place lol), and while I first listened to the episode on Thursday, I just wanted to let it sink in a bit and listen to it again a few times, to really appreciate all the details. :D So here are a trillion few notes on the first episode (spoiler, I loved it! <3333) and I hope this doesn't sound too jumbled, I haven't had a lot of sleep lately. 😂😂💀💀

- Ok, so my first reaction to the ending was basically: "OH MY GOD NOTHING CAN EVER GO RIGHT", "DAMN THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY" and sobbing for Elio, I guess. lol

- My general thoughts: I loved it!! ❤️❤️❤️ I felt like it was gripping and immersive from the beginning, but also genuinely funny and moving at times! I think this first episode did a good job of setting up the plot, the pacing was good and I'm already invested in the new characters! The sound design and voice acting was top notch (albeit maybe a bit over the top and a little cheesy in a couple of scenes lol) and I absolutely LOVED the little nuggets of the Veilguard soundtrack we got throughout (Zimmer and Balfe confirmed!!). There are a few tiny nitpicks, but overall this was fantastic and correct me if I'm wrong, but I've never heard of a game being marketed with an audio drama before? 😂 But looking at Dragon Age's amazing voice cast (and the fact that they all made us develop a voice kink lmao), this makes so much sense and I need like a hundred more of these in the future. lol

Notes on the episode itself:

- The narrator reminds me so much of the ones in these old anime dubs. I was expecting him to be like "LAST TIME ON DRAGONBALL Z". He got lost in the wrong dragon franchise. lol Really cool voice though!

- I LOOVE how it starts off with a minute of just the ambient sounds, chatters and music of the tavern, to really get that immersion, as if you just walked into this place yourself. - That new rendition of "Oh Grey Warden" hit me in the feels ngl.. ;-;

- Nadia just walking it and poisoning Olen to get answers was such a badass introduction to our main character! - I like how the narrative is neatly tied together by making this a retelling of what happened, starting off with loads of questions and by the end we're back in the present again.

- Nadia and Elio are so sweet nawww <3333 - Those sounds of Elio waking Nadia up were straight up ASMR. lol - The tune that's playing in the back here is sooo nice, I wonder if it's part of the new Love theme or something. 🥹❤️

- A sort of forbidden love between Liberati and Altus, oh this better end f*cking well!! 💀💀💀 - Well, that birthday got cancelled REAL fast. lol - I get Nadia's outbreak, but DAMN, she went OFF on him from like 0 to 100 in a heartbeat. lmao I guess something was bottling up for quite some time. - "I'm sorry" Oh no. I notice a certain pattern. *sob* - Again, that track that's playing here, wooow. Goosebumps! It's a super tragic rendition of the main theme. I just know this one's gonna hit so hard whenever that plays in Veilguard. 😭

- I wonder if the docks here are the same we've seen in screenshots. :3 - The soundtrack that's playing here reminds me SO MUCH of Unravel (one of my favorite tracks in recent years! <3333) - I like Nadia and Vik's dynamic. Super authentic. :D

- Nadia's reaction to the gold and then "TRIPLE the bag for delivery??" Yeah, Solas truly is the richest apostate hobo in all of Thedas. Those vaults from Trespasser come in handy now. Good thing the currency of old Elvhenan is apparently still valid. lol - Solas' quest of collecting every ancient powerful artifact continues. - Isn't this like the second time now that Solas indirectly hired someone to break into the Archives? lol They really need to improve that security. (Watch there being a quest in Veilguard where you have to break in there again, but it's impossible due to the amounts of guards now and Solas is like "Yeah, that might be my fault, sorry." lol)

- Super random thought, but judging by the sound design, there's gotta be lots of chickens running around in the streets of Minrathous. lol - NEVE!! <3333 (I'm sorry to anyone who had the wildest conspiracy theories about that teaser image and was expecting someone else. lmao) - So, wait. Does that mean Solas also anticipated Neve to talk to Elio? Or maybe someone else was supposed to do that but Neve got there first? lol

- Nadia and Vik have got to be the noisiest thieves I've ever heard. LMAO HOW did you manage to steal anything until now?? 💀💀💀 - I love how you keep hearing Vik laughing in the distance while distracting the guards. lol

- I wonder if all the turmoil could have been avoided if they just informed Elio about his ancestor's connection to the Eye and the Venatori from the get go. I guess he needed that push of knowing to never be able to return to his life in Tevinter to go along with it, but.. *sigh* poor Elio. - "I trust you." UHGGHH We were on the right track there. 😭😭 - That music AGAIN?? Chilllls!! - Nadia just casually destroying hundreds of years worth of relics. Love it. lol - "FLAME BLAST!!" Oh, this is so anime. lmaoo - Elio going from "WE'RE NOT DOING THIS" to fully enjoying beating up templars and go full criminal in a matter of seconds as soon as he sees his girl in her element. He loves her so much. <33

- "Who's the hat?" lol - That groan after the Dread Wolf name drop? Yeah, that was actually me. lmao - So, I assume this also ties in with Neve already knowing about Solas and his shenanigans in Minrathous when she met Varric in The Missing. Maybe it was this very incident that Neve was talking about? - Noooo, Vik!! 😭😭 (I knew you for like five minutes, but you made in impact. lol) - Sooo... I take it these "assassins" were actually Venatori, since they were the ones going after the Eye in the first place? Or am I stupid now? - "The eye went boom!" Love that delivery. lol - "She's trying to freeze the bay!" Yeah, Neve just DID that. What a boss. - "An elf with a fancy tongue." Oh, I know who THAT is. lmao

- "Me and you." 😭😭😭😭 You two are killing me. - That motif AGAIN. 😭😭😭😭😭 - Oh, for fuck's SAKE. Solas really always has the best flippin timing. They're all sweet and loving and here goes our disaster man "I'm about to ruin this couple's day so good." 💀💀💀 It's her BIRTHDAY, dammit!! - "Ominous looking chap in the road" lmao All I could think of there was THIS (for anyone who gets the reference LMAO)

- How is it that I knew he would appear in this episode from the teaser, and yet I still freaked out so hard. lmaoo After such a long time, it's like any second of new Solas content makes my heart skip a beat (or several). 😭😭 I still can't believe we're getting all this. 🥹

- Look, I may be a Solasmancer and have my biases, but godDAMN.. GDL is so good. HE IS SO GOOD. That Welsh accent. That rolling lilt. A voice like velvet that can be both so smooth and so sharp. There is just something about his performance that has you on the edge of your seat every time he's talking and I looove these little moments when you can so clearly hear that cheeky little smile in his voice. 💜

And it's so nice to hear him talk so calmly (well, at first at least lol) and kinda playful again, opposed to how super anxious he sounds at the beginning of Veilguard. 🥺 It's kinda interesting to compare this performance with DAI now, because now he's fully embracing the Dread Wolf role, and I keep thinking this is him after being isolated for the past ten years. ;-;

- Anway, so Nadia "unknowingly employed by the Dread Wolf" gets her pay from Richie Rich and girl, that would've been the moment to LEAVE. *sob* - "What other choice do we have?" Well, I dunno, RUN?? lmao - *chuckles* "I will demonstrate." Alright, I'm dead. Why did you say it like THAT? T_____T - Hearing Solas talk in elven after so long.. Dead again. Overkill. And yes, he's saying the exact same thing he said to Sera once. No, we don't know what it means. lol Maybe Sera IS actually an ancient magical artifact and he tried to trigger.. something. lol - That whole flippin dialogue. Solas please stop talking like an old witch trying to lure her prey into her lair. 💀 - "I do not play games." *screaming* - Honestly, I was like "NOOO WHY would you GO with himmm" but then I remembered, SHIT I WOULD FOLLOW HIM ANYWHERE. Hell, I *HAVE* followed him anywhere. To Hell and back. 💀💀💀💀💀 - Solas' persuasion game is at maximum at all times.

- "Energy is neither dark nor light." Speak for yourself, Trickster God of In Between. - "It is the Fade. The Veil is fragile here."

- Solas finally gets to answer questions again, but Nadia is rude about it. 😂 Solas slightly approves AND disapproves. lol - "Kindly remove your blade from my neck."

- Those damn Venatori at it AGAIN with their hunt for magical McGuffins. After TN and the Missing, I'm starting to believe that is all Solas did in the last ten years, snatching one deadly toy out of the their hands after another. lmao - "And it is up to me to ensure we arrive at the best possible outcome." Oh, we're so doomed. - "You're sharper than you let on." Here we go again with the backhanded compliments. lol Ohhh, how I missed it.

"Some people confuse a reckoning as an ending." "I seek... regeneration."

Holy shit. The voice. The long pause. The delivery of that last line. Shivers down my spine. It feels eerie. Like he sounds.. desperate.. and maybe a little.. insane? lmao (That's how you start to talk if you've been separated from your soulmate for ten years 💔💔💔)

Ok look, I've seen a TON of people thinking that, because of the way he says this and him using the word "reckoning" ("For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens"), this HAS to be whatever part he took of Mythal speaking now that has taken over his mind or something. But.. I don't think so? lol

I honestly think this is just Solas who, after a thousand years of preparing to "heal" the world again that he broke, even after admitting to himself that this world and its people are in fact real and he has to destroy it, is SO close to getting there now and there's NO ONE who could possibly understand him or how he truly feels or what any of this or the Blights/Titans/spirits/gods/Veil even truly ARE, so no WONDER he sounds a little f*cking unhinged. 💀💀💀

The choice of words is very interesting though.. "Regeneration" is not something he has ever used, BUT it immediately made me think of the line "But still, some hope remains for restoration" in Trespasser. This is what google tells me:

Regeneration represents a form of upgrade from restoration. If restoration means “to make something well again,” regeneration, for some authors, means “to make it better” than a (supposed) origin condition.

Regeneration: "a renewal or restoration of a body, bodily part, or biological system (such as a forest) after injury or as a normal process/ or a spiritual renewal or revival"

You know.. if I read "restoration of a bodily part or biological system", you know what's the first thing that comes to my mind yet AGAIN.

Look, that Titan's body is SPLIT IN HALF and we know that this was kinda the catalyst for everything Solas did back then, so... I'll just leave that here and listen to rest of the episode now. lmaoo

- "And the eye will make us fix that?" "More or less." dksdjjgdkfvlf THE SMILE IN HIS VOICE. What does that even MEAN? What do you MEEEAN, SIR?? I would've RUN out of that cave SO flippin FAST. - "And you're sure this is safe?" "As safe as we make it." *literally two minutes later* "SOLAS, SOMETHING IS WROOONG!!" This is a goddamn comedy show. lmaoo - "Silence, please." lol at him still being polite. - "This is all to be expected!" *five seconds later* "WE MUST FLEE!" I BUST out laughing. WHY are you such a DISASTER. Nothing EVER goes right and yet you always keep trying, you fool, omg!! - I don't think we have ever heard Solas so distressed. lol Like, not even when Wisdom died or at the beginning of Veilguard. - "Take my hand!" I would've never thought to hear THAT Trespasser line repeated under those circumstances, but here we are. lmaooo - We know Solas is a hopeless romantic, so for him to see that sweet couple torn apart because of him, and him still trying to save Nadia, I'm not ok. - Solas being responsible for Elio getting banished to the Fade and him being trapped there not long after.. Do you believe in karma? 😂 - "I'M SORRY!" WHY DOES IT ALWAYS END WITH HIM SAYING THAT. 😭

- So.. uh... what even WAS the plan, exactly? lol Like, what was supposed to happen?? Maybe they should've asked a few more questions after all. 💀 - That following scene with Nadia all alone. I got chills again. That hit different. ;-;

- "Where can I find this wolf??" Oh, she is about to hunt him down. 😶 "...I'll be back." Nadia in full Terminator mode now. 😂 - How are she and Elio connected now though? How can she hear him? 🥺 And I can't help but think about whoever was left in the Fade in DAI again, too. 😭😭😭 - Not the credits making me almost sob AGAIN because of the music. 😭 It is so so good.

So there we are. Everything went wrong, a couple is doomed and Solas is sorry. So, nothing changed. LMAO Everything as usual. 💀💀💀 Solas, I swear, if you don't get these two back together again and pay Lavellan a visit afterwards, my Rook might rethink listening to your advice in Veilguard. lmao

I can't wait for that next episode! This was so much fun and an amazing start, and I'm so excited to hear all the other companions! :D ❤️❤️❤️

[considerablecolors]

so anyways thinking about Muriel trying to learn more about humans and watching TV and such and how they would absolutely undeniably be OBSESSED with Bluey once they discovered it. how they would immediately feel connected to characters that are also learning more about the world around them everyday and being proud of themselves for slowly picking up on jokes for the older audience and such. which is a fun thought by itself. BUT THEN.

this brings to mind Muriel wanting to show Bluey to Crowley and Aziraphale (this takes place sometime after season 3 where they're all a family again), and Crowley's like "yeah everyone Below tried really hard to stop it from getting distributed in the US, big blow for us" to which Aziraphale replies "oh yes I spoke with the angel that worked on it, they got quite the promotion!"

anywho both of them try to get out of watching it because "it's a bloody kids show" and "I'm really not too fond of modern television" but Muriel is making puppy dog eyes so OBVIOUSLY they're gonna cave in eventually.

and at first they're not really paying TOO much attention, Aziraphale is charmed by the soundtrack and animation and Crowley does snort at "this isn't the eighties anymore" but like obviously they're not INTO it, they can just admittedly see why Muriel likes it. and then. AND THEN. THE BLUEY EFFECT.

pause. we all know of the Bluey phenomenon. like oh it's this kids show for babies like peppa pig to -> oh there's some fun jokes for the parents here the teachers really like it to -> oh god I'm a 22 year old mentally ill queer person who's been sobbing my eyes out on tiktok for ten minutes why didn't my dad ever love me.

something something the soft gentle tone of the show and its lessons combined with how honest and blunt they are about things combined with the kind and powerful parenting displayed by the main family. it breaks people. it heals wounds. it gets through to those repressed issues. we all know the bluey effect.

NOW. THAT'S FUCKING HUMANS. NOW IMAGINE THAT WITH THESE FUCKERS.

literally centuries worth of repressed trauma, NO emotional intelligence or awareness whatsoever, every mental barrier you can think of, literally mommy issues from GOD, and on top of it all, they're an angel and a demon right so obviously they don't need to worry about petty human things like "therapy" and "coping skills" and "talking through issues" and "boundaries" and ""self-worth"".

BLUEY WOULD FUCKING BREAK THEM.

like oh yes this is a charming show but I'm not sure it's quite for me and then BOOM. Aziraphale gets hit with "there's something going on with me" "does your outside voice sometimes say yes when your inside voice says no?" "I don't think I know how to relax" "I just... felt like I was doing everything wrong"

like wow angel are you actually crying over cartoon dogs you're so emotional and then BOOM. Crowley gets hit with the "you don't need to keep coming back to this place" "he should take care of himself because I still need him" "now you've got all that upset and angry in your hands- do you want to keep it?" "why can’t she just have the thing she wants?"

ALL OF A SUDDEN MURIEL LOOKS UP AND OH MY GOD I MADE MY DADS CRY I'VE NEVER SEEN THEM CRY BEFORE OH NO OH NO WHAT DO I DO UMMM NINA MAGGIE PLEASE COME TO THE BOOKSHOP I THINK I BROKE THEM ON ACCIDENT

i'm just saying if aziraphale and crowley had been blueypilled before then maybe there would've actually been some fucking nightingales ok.

[jesncin]

Honestly, you are like the most based person ever. A Martian Manhunter fan and a MAWS critic? F YEAH!

I'm so disappointed with MAWS' Lois :( Her romance with Clark could've been so good. SO GOOD. But they decided to go for fan service instead. She just gives off Lena (from cwsg) vibes and that's never a good thing.

Speaking of Supergirl, what's your opinion on the show? And on the show's portrait of J'onn. It baffles me how much hate the show got for the same things fans are willing to overlook now on MAWS. Aren't those some double standards, geez...

Aw shucks thank you! 2 incredibly niche but based things to be...

Sob! Call it the ace in me but whenever people think MAWS!Clois have chemistry because they're easily amused by seeing hot characters undress I lose life force. I didn't witness a couple that grew mutual respect and affection, I saw an insta-crush that led to Lois becoming so entitled to a guy she'd known for less than a week to the point of demanding full transparency of his private life before they even started dating. And then the narrative says it's Clark's fault for having reasonable boundaries, and then they're a couple. What is this.

I've briefly talked about CW Supergirl before, but my takeaway is: if people think MAWS is genuinely good writing then they should absolutely watch CW Supergirl because it must look like high art in comparison to MAWS. Maybe people are less judgy when something's animated and that's not fair. If we want to take animation as a serious medium we should hold it to the same standard and not coddle it. As someone who watched a few eps when CW Supergirl aired and then revisited and watched the whole thing years after the show concluded, I feel that the misogyny surrounding people's discourse around the show has led to people judging the show based on a fanon idea of it rather than its own merits.

more under the cut!

CW Supergirl is a show with great highs and lows. This results in things being hit or miss. But when something hits- CW Supergirl is not given nearly enough credit as it deserves. As a Martian Manhunter fan, I believe that their take on J'onn is the most competent and well adapted in not just adapted media, but all of comics canon. That doesn't mean I like everything they did with his lore and character, but I can acknowledge that they actually bothered developing him outside of the comics/cartoon's fixation with making him mope about his Origin Story all the time. He gets to find love, have adopted daughters through Kara and Alex, reckon with what it's like to preserve aspects of a culture he doesn't fully identify with, deal with his dad going through Martian Alzheimer's disease, and most importantly MAKE PEACE WITH HIS BROTHER. CW Supergirl has hands down, the best take on Ma'alefa'ak in all of canon.

I think Lena is a great character on the show. She's dealing with the trauma of being constantly manipulated by her own family, the legacy her name carries and who she is in all that. But because the supercorp ship permeates the way people perceive the show, she's reduced to that by discourse. When Lena has drama over Kara's secret Superhero identity, it's something that's built up to and informed by trauma, trust-issues, and TIME. We are shown that she has these problems. It gets melodramatic at times, but it's still something that was built up to. Meanwhile in MAWS Lois just tells us she has daddy issues and that it's why she really needs the cute guy at work to spill all his personal info to her even though she gets to lie to him for her own personal gain multiple times. I appreciate what CW Supergirl did to bring more attention to what was an obscure character. Whenever I bump into Lena in the comics, it hasn't stacked up to the character I met on the show.

I've called this out before but while CW Supergirl isn't perfect by any means especially with their treatment of Jimmy Olsen as a love interest to Kara and a generally sidelined Black supporting character, they still discussed and acknowledged Jimmy's identity as a Black American man! Sure it was heavy handed many times, but that's way better than MAWS straight up ignoring Jimmy's Blackness and even making an unintentional jab at it!! Like cw Supergirl Jimmy knows bigotry and has experienced it. MAWS Jimmy thinks bigotry is being ghosted for a camping trip. I have seen the exact same critics call out cw Supergirl for Jimmy's treatment while gleefully thinking Jimmy's treatment in MAWS is so uwu perfect. It makes me sick! Am I going insane?? It's the double standards for me.

[dat-town]

blood red and snow white

Characters: Beomgyu & female reader

Setting & genre: dark fantasy, (horror-ish?), Red Riding Hood (2011) and Hansel & Gretel (2013) vibes (or at least the way i remember them)

Summary: The woods was Beomgyu’s home. It might be his grave too.

Warnings: mentions blood and bleeding, crossbow as a weapon, werewolf attacks, non-sexual nudity, implied deceased parents, minor character death, (temporary?) major character death, honestly people in this just keep dying, one mention at the cliché power of true love

Words: 5k

Author’s note: this is not the “if you ever write fluff Beomgyu” that’s been on my to write list for ages but here, take something darker, sorry and love you @lily-blue <3

Inspired by TXT’s Gayo Daejeon performance

Header photo credit: 13thStars

The snow felt crispy under Beomgyu’s boots. The crunching sound was loud in the quiet forest, and it scared some birds off the tree branches as he got closer. But not close enough. He didn’t have much time to reach his grandmother’s wooden guesthouse; sunset was already dancing on the horizon, painting the whitewashed scenery in hues of golden and carmine.

The boy hardened his grip over the bag over his shoulder and yanked the hood of his red robe over his head with the other, protecting his curly locks from snow frost. He panted hard, his cheeks rosy from the cold and urgency as he crossed the frozen creek, counting down the steps he still needed to take to reach safety.

He should have left the village earlier, he should have known that he would be slowed down by the snow and dead branches along the way. He should have known better than to accept Yeonjun’s mulled wine and listen to his sob story about a girl that got away. Too late. It was already too late to wonder about what ifs and wrong decisions, he needed to hurry.

Between tree trunks, the outline of the snow-covered wooden structure finally appeared within reach. Beomgyu let himself look around and behind, feeling paranoid even because of the small noises of the animals finding shelter just as hastily as him. He was almost there. He was almost out of time.

He sped up his steps, his boots leaving ugly imprints in the snow while his panting became panicky loud. It was getting darker with each step he took.

Just three more. Two. One…

For exactly one moment, eerily long and quiet, the world stood still, stuck in the limbo between night and day, day and night. And then, all the light went out as the Sun disappeared beyond the woods. The stars barely flickered without the light of their companion, the Moon. It was the darkest night of the month.

The boy shakily drew in a breath, the puffs of his breathing visible in the dark. His hand lingered over the doorknob, frozen in place, trembling from the cold. Quiet. He needed to stay quiet and calm.

Beingyu gulped, weighing his chances, before he reached out and twisted the knob. The metal cracked and just then he heard footsteps behind him.

When Beomgyu was younger, he didn’t believe the woods was a dangerous place like other kids his age did. This was his home, his playground, his childhood. He had visited the old guesthouse more often than he could count on his tiny fingers. He thought that all those terrible stories were only his grandmother’s way of scaring him like how she said he wouldn’t grow taller if he didn’t eat his veggies or that evil fairies would kidnap him if he didn’t lock his door well. He didn’t believe in any of those silly warnings.

But then everything changed when he met you.

It was a scorching hot summer and you almost killed him.

The arrow pierced into the tree trunk barely centimeters away from his shoulder as he got up from the raspberry bush he was trying to clear off the sweet fruit. He got away with only a scratch on the back of his hand because in his startled state he managed to get caught up in the branches. He was so taken aback, he didn’t even notice the ting of pain as blood dribbled from the thin wound onto the ground until you pointed it out.

“You okay? Sorry, I didn’t see you there. Oh, shit, you’re bleeding.”

Beomgyu was probably more shocked about the fact that a girl his age, not more than sixteen, appeared by his side than the pain registering in his brain. He hissed as you took his hand and blew on the wound, mesmerized by how practiced you looked as you took a handkerchief out of your little bag and wrapped it around his palm. He felt his pale cheeks bloom into a rose garden. It was like a scene from one of his grandmother’s beloved romance stories, only that it was usually the other way around: a gentleman treating a lady’s wound and the boy, raging with teenage hormones, didn’t know how to feel about being forced into the role of a damsel in distress. But looking at you next to him, he knew there would be no doubts about these roles. After all it was him with a bucket full of sweets and you were the one holding a deadly weapon and the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

“What are you doing out here with that?” He finally found his voice and pointed at the crossbow in your hand. It probably wasn’t the best thing he could have said but this was what he was the most curious about. What was a girl like you doing in the woods instead of being at home, helping your mother with dinner?

“Practicing,” you shrugged as if it was normal to walk around with a deadly weapon. “My brother is teaching me to hunt.”

Oh, that made sense. Beomgyu had only ever seen huntsmen with that kind of thing. But he had known every huntsman in the village since he had lived there his whole life and he was sure that he had never seen you before. The next one was miles away, on the other side of the woods, so he wondered whether you and your brother were from there. Or maybe you were one of those families living in the woods, hunting for a living from meal to meal?

“Hunt what? Rabbits?” The boy found himself asking, feeling silly, because you didn’t look like you were malnourished, struggling to find something to eat, nor did you look like you could have hurt a fly with that easygoing smile on your cherry lips. Even your eyes shone like innocent stars when you laughed at his question.

“Nah. The kind of things that would kill us first if we didn’t kill them.”

Beomgyu narrowed his eyebrows, feeling stupid and out of place. The wound on the back of his hand started to pound as his heartbreak picked up. Did you really just say kill?

“Like wolves and bears?”

“Yeah, exactly like wolves,” you chuckled, somehow finding his reaction amusing and took the crossbow into your left hand, letting it fall next to your body as you extended your right towards him. “I’m Y/N by the way.”

“I’m Beomgyu,” he said as he tentatively took your hand and shook on it. Your hands felt rough against his skin. It tickled.

“I have to go before my brother starts looking for me but it was nice to meet you, Beomgyu. Be more careful next time. The woods is a more dangerous place than it looks,” you looked him deeply in the eyes, way too serious for a sixteen year old and the boy couldn’t look away. He was stuck in those dark orbs and wondered whether it was you who stole the stars from the sky every month.

He was dreaming of your bright eyes later that night.

Beomgyu’s grandmother told him that your family was bad news. That he should have kept far away from you. Easier said than done. The boy felt himself gravitating towards you like a moth to flame, not afraid of getting burnt.

He wandered around in the woods, humming folk songs to himself, hoping to catch a sight of you again. You were unlike any other girl he knew from the village. The boy kept your handkerchief tucked neatly in his pocket. He had washed the blood off it until it was white as fresh snow and smelled like nothing but chamomile. He thought it would give him a good excuse why he was looking for you. Just common courtesy, he tried to convince himself but the handkerchief was long forgotten when one day he finally saw you in the middle of the valley.

It was full of poppies and daisies, their petals painting the green scenery with red and white dots. You wore a simple pastel brown dress as you sat in the middle of the colorful cavalcade. From that distance he couldn’t tell what you were doing but as he got closer it became obvious that you picked up flowers and put them into your basket. It reminded him of his tasks when his grandmother needed ingredients for her creams.

Beomgyu was still a good ten meters away when you must have noticed his approach because you turned and looked straight at him, suspicious at first but soon recognizing him.

“Oh, hi!” You greeted him with a smile, casual and kind. Sure, your heart must not have been doing excited little jumps in your chest like his. He still couldn't believe his luck. After long weeks and even longer months passed, seasons changed and the spring bloom came, you were right in front of him again.

“Are you not practicing hunting today?” He found himself asking a bit awkwardly but you didn’t seem to mind. Your smile was still the same as you shook your head.

“No. My brother is sick, so I’m collecting marigold flowers. It’s good for the body, you know,” you told him, reaching for the next bright-colored piece.

Actually Beomgyu knew, his grandmother taught him well, so for once he believed it was a useful knowledge because this way he could sit down next to you and tell you all about the other herb and plant health benefits that he knew of.

Beomgyu told you about his village too. About how the Sunday market was the most eventful thing over the week. Or how the baker’s daughter ran away with a boy from the next town and it had been such a scandal. You seemed invested in his stories. Sitting cross legged in the middle of the meadow, you smiled at him like he was the Sun. It made him a little shy, just like when your fingers touched over the basket. Just a small yet thrilling feeling.

“We only visit the villages when we need to buy something or have something to sell. I rarely meet new people,” you admitted, your fascination with his boring stories suddenly making more sense to the boy but he couldn’t help but wonder why you lived so secluded from other people.

“Are you living in the woods then?” He inquired, watching intently as your long, messy hair fell into your eyes after you nodded.

“Yeah. Me and my brother with a few others.”

Beomgyu furrowed his eyebrows, confused. Others? Strangers? His grandmother had told him about people at the edge of society who lived together despite not sharing a blood relation. Beomgyu had always imagined them a little wild. 

“Your parents?” He blurted out with a closed throat.

“It’s just the two of us,” you shook your head, keeping your gaze on the flowers in your lap. You removed the tiny orange petals one by one. “He’s more important to me than anything.”

The boy hadn’t had siblings of his own, so he didn’t know whether that kind of devotion was normal or not but he could understand the importance of having only one living relative and the co-dependence of it. So he told you about why it was his grandmother who brought him up and when you put your hand on his, his heart fluttered.

It became a habit to meet at the meadow.

You sneaked away from your brother and he always took a detour on his grandmother’s errands.

Sometimes you walked over to the trickling creek or fed birds in the middle of the woods. Sometimes you just lay side by side in the shadow of the trees, watching the white puff of clouds move over the perfectly blue sky. Over time you found more and more to talk about, more things you unexpectedly had in common (like the preference of apple pies over cherry ones or the smell of chamomile over lavender) and Beomgyu was too enamored already to notice the signs. That the blush on your cheek was a bruise or that it wasn’t a joke when you said you would become a hunter like your brother.

The first time Beomgyu had seen one of your preys, he was nineteen and already irrevocably in love.

It was already dark by the time he left the guest house but he knew the path by heart. He could have probably found his way with his eyes closed around that area, thus he wasn’t wasting the matches his grandmother had given him nor did he need the full moon to light the road for him. He knew where he was going and yet, he stopped short when in the eerie silence of the woods he heard a strange voice. It sounded like broken sobs, like somebody crying.

He wasn’t sure what came upon him. Whether it was recklessness or his endless feeling of safety in the woods which he felt at home in. But he changed his direction and slowly he started to walk towards the strangled voice. It was only later when he realized it was you. He had never heard you cry before after all. You had always seemed so sure of yourself and so brave, he had no idea what could have triggered such a reaction from you, not until he saw you lit by the moonlight with tear streaks on your cheeks and blood on your hands.

He stepped on a branch accidentally, it snapped under his weight and in a moment you were on your feet, aiming your crossbow at him before recognizing him and collapsed to the ground again. That was when he saw it: your grief and your sin.

On the ground only a few steps away from him laid two bodies. One of them looked every bit of a hunter Beomgyu could have imagined but the young man’s body was shredded so badly by a wild animal that the boy had a hard time looking at him. But it wasn’t much better as he looked further either. First he thought it would be another victim of the animal attack but the other man was naked on the muddy ground, covered in dirt and blood. His hands and face was full of redness that couldn’t have been his because the only place he was severely wounded was his back where a single arrow hit him right through the heart.

To say that Beomgyu was having a hard time processing what he saw, convincing himself that it was reality and not just a nightmare was an understatement but he willed himself to pull it together. You needed him, he thought as he looked over at your shivering, weeping form as you gently brushed the sweaty fringe of the clothed man away. The boy knew without needing to ask that he must have been your beloved brother. The one you would have done anything. And now he was gone.

“What happened?” He whispered into the darkness, still in shock, not knowing what to do. Should he have called the ranger from the village? Or a doctor maybe?

“I was too late. He killed my brother,” you muttered, sounding only physically there with him. Beomgyu gulped.

“Did you kill him?” He asked, tentative and innocent, just to be sure. Your eyes burned like fire when you looked up at him again. Conviction burning through them.

“He was a monster.”

You told Beomgyu about werewolves after that and he helped you bury the bodies.

He let you cry on his shoulder, held your hand and promised to never bring it up.

The first time Beomgyu actually saw the true form of the monsters you hunted, it was already that time of the year when tree leaves dried up and fell. The ground was swimming in colors of caramel, sunset and blood. In the rain soaked frontyard he almost didn’t notice it: the drops of crimson over the leaves.

“I’m home,” he called, sniffing into the air that was crispy with the scent of freshly baked apple pie, a bit burnt, too sweet, just how he liked it. “Grandma?”

Beomgyu put his basket down on the wooden table in the kitchen. It was a mess and his grandmother never left chaos behind. She was meticulous about cleaning. She was proud of being civilized ‘unlike those savages’. She was… never this quiet. She liked singing as she moved around in the house, she talked to either her plants or the little animals of the woods. Beomgyu had always thought it was a weird habit but the house suddenly felt empty without it. He started looking for his grandmother more frantically, feeling in his guts that something was wrong. He looked everywhere in the house but the old lady was nowhere to be found, so he even skipped putting his hooded robe back on as he stepped out into the cold air, wondering if his grandma had gone to the creek without leaving a message behind. He only took a few steps when he heard the growling.

Shakily, Beomgyu sucked in a breath, his heart battling his head whether he should have made a run for it or turn around but his body decided it for him. He felt rooted to the ground, unable to take another step, so running was out of the question. He reached into his pockets, hoping to find something useful there but he only came up with a matchstick box. With his heart beating like a horse race, he slowly, carefully turned his head to look over his shoulder and he had to swallow the strangled noise forcing its way out of his throat because what was behind him was the largest wolf he had ever seen. It had dark, messy fur and clenched teeth, its eyes glowing golden while cherry liquid dripped down its jaw. It was every bit as terrifying as you had warned him. A creature that would kill him without a second thought if he didn’t act first.

The animal growled again, more threatening this time and behind the layers of fear, Beomgyu remembered what you told him: werewolves were afraid of fire. So the boy gripped the small box tighter in his hand and lit a matchstick just when the wolf pawed closer, baring its teeth, ready to jump. The little flame reflected in gilded eyes and the animal took a staggered step back, giving Beomgyu just enough time to get his bearings and start running after throwing the match to the ground. A part of him wished the leaves would catch on fire to help him escape but another was grateful it was all too wet to happen because he wouldn’t have wanted to see the guest house burn down. Not even at the price of his life.

Hence, the quickly dying flame of the match didn’t do much of a job of keeping the wolf away. Beomgyu could hear it chase after him as he stumbled and raced ahead. He headed towards the village knowing that his best chance was to get to a crowded place where maybe the animal wouldn’t be able to follow him but it wasn’t that close and he could feel the puffs of warm bloody breath just behind him.

When he fell in a tree trunk, the pain didn’t register at first. He might have twisted his ankle but he was too busy trying to fight off the weight of the animal on top of him. Realistically speaking, Beomgyu knew he didn’t stand much chance: he was weaker, smaller and based on your stories, it was almost impossible to fight against a werewolf with bare hands but there must have been something about survival instinct because he just couldn’t give up, he couldn’t just wait for death with open arms.

That was when you came. Like a vengeful angel, as if his subconscious prayers have been answered. Your arrows hit the animal straight ahead and its painful howl almost made the boy feel some king of empathy for it. Hunting was in their nature, wasn’t it? Maybe they couldn’t help it. Not that Beomgyu felt any kind of remorse as he watched the wolf drag itself away, injured.

“Are you okay?” You knelt beside him after the animal was out of your view and you deemed the area safe enough to lower your guards and put your crossbow down.

Beomgyu winced as he tried to sit up. Some of his ribs might have been fractured just by the sheer weight on top of them, but he was grateful for your help when you helped him up even if he felt slightly dizzy from the sudden movement. It was like the ground was unstable under him and your hands felt cold against his feverish forehead. He was covered in mud, dry leaves and drops of blood, yet suddenly he felt so cold.

“Beomgyu…”

He had always liked the way his name fell off your lips but this time there was something wrong about it. Your tone was nowhere near as fond or amused like usual. There was something akin to dread laced among the syllables, something like fear.

Through the hazy fog that was in his mind, Beomgyu tried to concentrate on your words. Or on your eyes. He had always loved your eyes.

You were looking down at him, more specifically, at his feet where his ankle was bare and bloody. He only registered the pain then, the needle-like sensation that he mistakenly thought of as muscle pain. Looking at the clear teeth marks, torn flesh and blood dripping down, he suddenly felt the phantom sensation of getting bitten.

Beomgyu found your eyes again, your name leaving his mouth like a plea, hoping that you would tell him that he was just hallucinating, that everything would be alright but you yanked yourself away from him so fast and so roughly that he stumbled again, his weak body lying feverish on the muddy ground.

“I’m so sorry,” he heard you whisper or he might have been imagining that too. “I… I will have to kill you if you turn. So please…”

Beomgyu was too tired to make sense of what you were saying or what you were asking. It came to him a lot later that he wasn’t sure whether you meant to tell him to survive or to die, to leave or to stay.

Ironically, everything he knew about werewolves was because of you.

It helped him survive, to stay alive, to keep his humanity. He hoped that it would mean something, that it would make a difference if you were ever to know. He had never killed anybody since he had turned. Sure, he had gone crazy the first few times when the full moon controlled his wolf more than him but even then he only hunted forest animals and he felt bad even after that. He hoped the fact that he hadn’t seen you had also meant that you cared but the worst part was that he wanted you beside him. He missed seeing you. He missed daydreaming in the depth of the woods or out in the valley. He missed play fights and hide-and-seeks. He missed your smile. He missed you.

But you were the type who kept their promise.

Beomgyu didn’t even have to turn around to know that it was you behind him. He would have recognized your scent from miles away. He had always loved the peachy undertone that usually hugged him like a blanket, reminding him of hugs and warm pies. He had known you were dangerous from the day you had met yet he had never associated coldness with you. Not even in the unforgiving winter as the two of you stood now: his hand on the door handle and your finger on the trigger of your crossbow, aiming at him.

“You left tails, Beomgyu,” you spoke up, hoarsely, no greetings, no courtesies, straight to the point. It was a jab to the boy’s weak heart. “The others… The other hunters know about you too. They will come for you and they won’t make it quick or painless.”

There was nothing about it that was painless. It had been so long. Beomgyu ached with his whole body because he wanted nothing more than to run to you and pull your body to his, sniffing your hair, and never let you go. Wishful thinking.

“So you came to kill me before they could?” He found himself asking, not so naive anymore, not asking whether you came to warn him or to check on him. He knew you better than that.

Your heart was full of hatred towards his kind ever since you had lost everything to them. There was no way you would have forgotten. He must have been a monster in your eyes despite your past. And yet, Beomgyu had always thought that he could avoid hunters because he was behind closed doors after the sun had set. You had told him before that you weren’t hunting in daytime with the group you lived with, so he assumed he should have been safe then. Staying indoors during the night, tying himself to the ironclad tubes during full moon, he thought that was what kept him alive but as it turned out it was that you kept quiet about him. But now you were coming for his throat, breaking his heart.

“You should have left when you could,” you whispered, resigned and Beomgyu wished he could have seen you better in the darkness in his human form.

“This is the only home I have ever known,” he said and it was as much of an answer as any. Yes, he could have left but he would have had to live in hiding anyway, so why would he have left the one place that he considered his home? You sighed, probably not understanding it but he didn’t expect you to.

“Then this is where you will be buried.”

Without any more warning, you pulled the trigger. It was his newly developed wolf sense that helped him jump aside in time, then he started to run.

Funny, wasn’t it? His kind was supposed to be the superior predator yet when it came to you, he became the hunted. He would have never hurt you no matter how strong his murderous instincts were.

That’s why it was both a blessing and a curse – and probably a careful calculation on your part – that you had come to him on a new moon when the wolf’s pull was the weakest, so Beomgyu’s rationality was more in control but it meant he was more vulnerable too.

You both knew this part of the woods like the back of your hands and it felt like a twisted version of your old hide-and-seek. Snow and branches cracking under his feet, Beomgyu could never hide where he went, so he wasn’t surprised when one of your arrows passed by him, grazing his upper arm, drawing blood. He hissed as his blood dirtied the white snow and he tasted iron on the tip of his tongue. His wolf was fuming, urging him to hurt, to avenge but he didn’t give in, not even when it turned out it was exactly what you wanted.

“Change, Beomgyu, come on! Don’t just run away! Fight me,” you yelled after him, clearly frustrated, but the boy couldn’t understand your reason. He just didn’t want to hurt you.

“What would it change? You will kill me anyway,” he panted, gripping on his injured arm as he hid behind a tree.

“Coward,” you hissed.

Then the others showed up. Beomgyu cried out in pain when a bullet hit him in the shoulder and the pain made him lose the last of his control over his new animalistic instincts. The red hooded robe fell into a puddle of blood over the fresh snow as a wolf took the boy’s place. A wolf growling with anger at the humans approaching him from all directions, four or five of them. He  attacked the one that shot him, going straight for the throat after pushing the guy off his feet but that only earned him another bullet wound in the back.

A pathetic little moaning sound escaped the animal and you cried out, tears running down your cheeks, begging for the hunters to stop, to leave him to you because despite everything you had done you never wanted to see Beomgyu in pain.

You took out one arrow from your sachet and dropped your crossbow onto the ground. Your hands trembled but it wasn’t from the cold as you approached the wounded wolf lying on the ground.

“Please come back to me,” you pleaded through shivers.

There was a legend, a folktale claiming that a werewolf had two hearts: one human, one wolf. And if it was killed in its wolf state, the human heart could still survive.

But only if they were killed by somebody who loved them.

You had told Beomgyu before that you didn't believe in such silly things and there was no way you would ever loved a monster anyways, so it was useless asking what ifs but as you drove the sharp arrow through the wolf’s heart, you couldn’t help but wonder whether your love would be enough for a miracle or you were about to lose the last person important to you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered as more crimson was spilled on the winter blanket of the woods, on the ground that birthed and buried all of you.

Your tears were falling over the wolf as Beomgyu started taking back his human form. You sobbed harder when you saw those curls you had always loved so much and the pouty mouth and button nose. You laid down over his chest, praying, hoping to hear a heartbeat until you were dragged away.

The snow would melt in a week but not even forever could erase his blood from your hands.