#Twig seeing straight through the excuses

[sincerely-sofie]

I was going to write this idea as a story, but my mind keeps flatlining every time I try to coherently make it. I still wanted to share the idea, so here’s a snippet that pretty much summarizes it:

TW: child abuse, neglect

•••

“Mother, is Boulders Quarry dangerous?”

“Pokémon can handle it if they’re prepared and experienced enough,” Twig hums, stirring the stir fry on the stove, “but those are with Pokémon who are trained, and it can still be dangerous even for them. It’s not a dungeon that me or your dad would let you go to for a very long time — not until you’re adult or close to it.”

She hears shattering behind her, and Twig quickly turns around. Opal’s plate, once holding in apple slices and strawberries, is in pieces. The ceramic remains decorate the floor, some stained by bruised fruits and the juices left behind. Twig’s mouth opens, ready to ask if Opal’s okay and warn her about stepping on the sharp pieces, but the words that mean to come out die as she looks at her daughter. Opal’s eyes are wide and slowly become teary. Her body trembles, evidently the cause of the broken plate rather than her potentially tripping. Her stare never leaves Twig, her mouth quivering as words try to come out but never do.

“Opal?” As soon as her name leaves Twig’s mouth, the Marshadow begins to cry. Fat tears roll down her cheeks, only getting heavier when Twig rushes to her side and brings her into an embrace. “Opal, what’s-?”

“I have a friend-” Opal chokes on her words, trying to push through an invisible blockade in her throat. “She- she says that her big sister and brother try to leave her in dungeons by herself to ‘toughen up’ and that they were going to take her to Boulders Quarry today. She doesn’t like fighting — she usually hides when they try, and I can always find her, I haven’t been able to find her- she- I don’t- I wanted to say- she said they’ll run away and take her if anyone knew, and she didn’t want to go away — but now she’s not here, but her big brother and sister are- and- and-!”

Between her blood running cold and her burning organs, Twig manages soft words that she thinks are comforting by the way Opal’s cries calm down, but the Charmeleon can’t hear them. Ark comes into the room, concerned words leaving, but Twig doesn’t hear them. She gently puts Opal into his arms and she thinks that she mentions an emergency, but it all blurs after that. Now she walks out of Boulders Quarry, a quivering, shaking child curled up in her arms. She is careful not to aggravate old wounds that couldn’t have come from the recent the recent dungeon. The familiar excuses are desperately made by the kid, but Twig knows.

“I just got lost.”

“I got this because I fell — I fall a lot.”

“I’m okay, I’m fine. Don’t tell auntie my big brother and sister. I can go by myself.”

Twig knows and, internally, she seethes.

•••

It’s not my best and everyone is probably ooc, but I hope it’s still somewhat enjoyable. Sorry if it isn’t tho!

"Not my best," they say. "I hope it's still somewhat enjoyable," they say. Meanwhile I am holding this fic in my teeth like a rabid dog and shaking it (appreciative) and biting it (adoring) and eating it (complimentary).

I don't have many words to share because I've just been reeling at how good this is ever since it was sent in, but I can't wait to see any more of your work, especially of this concept!

[cabinetofquriosities]

A F***ing Trial

Agatha x Rio x Reader

Warnings: sex pollen-like story and SO. MUCH. SMUT.

Reblog this if you like it 🖤

Agatha and Rio were already awake once you rose from your exhausted slumber.

After barely surviving the last trial that cut your group down to three, you had conked out by the fire. Your entire body was sore and your emotions in a frenzy. The night’s sleep helped your body and mind. You were still sad about your other coven members, but you also didn’t know them before meeting them three days prior.

Agatha, though. You had met her years ago in Westfield. She finally snapped out of the Scarlet Witch’s spell and found you. She had a list provided by another member of the new coven and your name was on it.

You had no clue you had any magic at all until Agatha tested you. Granted, throwing a chair at someone wasn’t the safest way of testing them, but it worked in your case. You flinched and the chair burst into flames, falling to ash as it hit you. You were a fire witch. A protector.

However, you were a fire witch who could only use your powers that one time. After that, it was as if you had a block. Agatha had thrown other things at you as her way of “helping”, though you wondered if she just wanted an excuse for a bit of violence. Nothing. Books and a wooden spoon bounced off of your head.

“Well, we’re just going to have to see what unlocks you,” she said.

The road was brutal and unforgiving, killing one witch per trial. It scared you to know that the next three could do the same to the remaining witches, yourself included.

Rio seemed strangely unaffected by the death surrounding them. Agatha did as well, but seemed a bit more sensitive to it than her ex. You had been a crying mess after the first loss. Now you were just afraid.

You had grown attached to the two other witches. Agatha was captivating. She was intensely ambitious to the point of selfishness, but also contained multitudes. You could see the layers of her emotions peeking through every now and then. She was larger than life and spellbinding. Rio, meanwhile, had more teeth. She was aggressive and passionate. While she seemed detached at times, she had this insatiable desire to live life to the fullest. It was as if she were new to it. Little did you know, she was out of practice when it came to feeling genuine attachment to people and being among the living.

You could tell straight away that the two had a long history. The tension was thick, hanging heavily in the air. The rest of your now deceased coven could feel it too.

When you woke up alone, the two surviving coven members were nowhere to be found. You walked out a bit into the woods, looking for them. You stopped short at the sight of Rio being pinned against a tree by Agatha.

Rio was smirking at the other woman as if to challenge her. Agatha leaned in, biting at Rio’s lips. Her thigh was pressed against her core, grinding against her leather pants. Rio smiled as she craned her head back against the trunk of the tree. Agatha’s hand let her wrist go and slid down her front, dipping beneath her waistband. Rio let out a gasp, earning a smug smile and arched brow from Agatha.

You tried to sneak away, but accidentally stepped on a twig, the snap alerting the couple to your presence. They both looked at you, making the blood in your body rise to your cheeks.

Your fingertips suddenly sparked, the magic you were previously unable to access now activating with arousal. You had always repressed your desires in the past, having been raised in a strict religious family. You had been intimidate with a partner in the past, but it was all very vanilla.

Agatha noticed your hands burning with fire, her mind working to decipher what that could mean about your power.

“I… uh, sorry,” you said, quickly retreating back to the fire, jumping when the flame surged on the burnt out logs.

You could hear Rio laughing mockingly in the distance.

A few minutes later, the pair found you. Rio sat next to you with that same smirk from before while Agatha barely even looked at you. Her eyes fell on the newly lit fire.

“Interesting,” she said, her face illuminated by the glow.

“I’ll say,” Rio said, her hand resting on your knee.

The moment Rio touched you, the fire grew in intensity. Agatha’s eyes widened, looking both alarmed and excited about what this meant.

“I guess we finally found your spark,” Agatha said, giving you a sly smile.

Two small flames jumped out of the fire, catching on the dirt in a way that wasn’t physically possible. A trail ignited, two lines of fire forming and spreading out. Agatha’s fascination turned to worry.

“Alright… enough spark, let’s pull it back…” she said nervously.

“I’m not doing anything!” you said, your heart racing.

The fire formed a path, the flames staying in two controlled lines that led them to a tower in the distance. Rio tilted her head, toying with a flower she bloomed from her hand.

“Well, I guess we know whose trial this is,” she said.

Your heart was in your throat. Your power was still so unpredictable. You had used it once in self defense on a chair and once just moments ago. You watched as the two other women led the way. Agatha turned around, regarding you before speaking.

“You can do this. The road wouldn’t be calling you if you couldn’t. Let’s go.”

She spun back around, dramatically flipping her coat with no regard for the flames. You took a moment to steel yourself before following them.

The path led to a tower made of ice. The walls reflected the moonlight, giving it a glow against the backdrop of the sky. The door had a stained glass portrait of the full moon with fire surrounding it.

You pushed the door open and stepped through, expecting the usual costume change. You looked at Agatha and Rio to see that they were naked. Agatha looked nonplussed while Rio had a wolfish smile. Looking down, you were mortified to see your own naked body with one addition.

“Well, I didn’t know you were packing more than magical heat…” Agatha purred, looking down at the sizable dick that had been bestowed upon you.

“No, I… I don’t have… the road did it!” you said, shocked at your new anatomy.

“Well, the road has wonderful taste,” she replied as you tried covering it with your hands.

“Enough admiring, we should find the challenge,” Rio said, looking you up and down once more before searching your surroundings.

The ceiling was out of your sight, positioned at the very top of the massive tower. There were portraits lining the circular frozen walls. They were lined up like film, carvings of stone with bodies in different positions. The floor was cushioned and covered in silk sheets and decadent pillows.

You walked along the wall, finally distracted enough to examine the room. You touched a wall and felt the cold against your fingertips. You stepped back to the center with Agatha and Rio. Once you were all in the middle of the room, an ice hourglass began to slowly fill with water, the cube on top melting as time passed. A shelf emerged with four icicles attached. A circle of low burning fire surrounded the coven as the timer began.

Something resembling snow fell from the ceiling, breaking into a fog the three of you breathed in. Your heart began to race and you felt a flush burning your cheeks. There was an iron frame that appeared over one of the portraits. It was a carving of two people entangled in the missionary position.

You noticed the other two women struggling to keep their focus. Their pupils dilated and focused on you. You looked down and saw where all of your blood had rushed to.

Agatha looked up at the carving.

“I think we know what your trial is,” Agatha said, her voice a bit raspy, “Little miss purity has to discover a few things.”

You would have been resistant if you had been with anyone else, but the two other women had been present in your dreams since the beginning of the road.

“Wait, what?”

“You heard her, firestarter,” Rio said, stalking up to you.

A thin sheen of sweat covered her body, causing a layer of goosebumps to break out. She looked like she was about to consume you.

“I know you feel it too. That need rushing through you?” she said, leaning in to whisper into your ear.

“The air of arousal,” Agatha said, her body nearly shivering with desire, “That’s what we breathed in. If we don’t satiate it, it can kill you. Are you okay with this?”

Agatha actually seemed to care about how you felt about this, despite the irresistible lust taking her over.

“Yes,” you said eagerly before you could stop yourself, “I wanted it before.”

You turned to Rio, who was standing an inch from you, her hands running along your arms. You pulled her into a kiss, the heat within you passing the point of no return. Rio fell back, pulling you with her. You landed over her, catching yourself with your hands. Seeing her beneath you like this was more intense than you could imagine.

Rio reached between you, her hand wrapping around your cock. Her touch sent a shock through you, the flames of the circle rising a bit. You lowered your hips down as she guided you into her. You both gasped at the sensation. Your eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling.

“Move,” Rio ordered.

You opened your eyes and locked onto hers. You slowly moved your hips, getting used to the motion. You let out a whine as you began to speed up. Rio rolled her hips with yours, bucking and grinding against you. You didn’t know what else to do but thrust. She reached down again and began playing with her own clit. Her cunt squeezed around you as her mouth fell open into a moan. The flames grew another foot. An icicle fell from the shelf, crashing against the floor. There were three left.

You could hear a cranking sound as the portraits spun around the room, the frame now over a carving of a woman riding a man. Rio sat up, about to top you when Agatha interrupted.

“You already got one,” Agatha said to Rio.

She nearly tackled you to the floor, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. She straddled you, grinding herself along the side of your cock. You squirmed, your breath shaking at the feeling of her wet lips massaging you. She reached down and positioned you before sinking down onto you. She threw her head back, her long hair falling down her back. Her chest was shamelessly pushed out as she moved. Her hips rocked and circled, leaving you without a thought in your mind. You bucked up, drawing a gasp from her. She took you by the wrists and guided them over her breasts. You held onto her as you fucked her, your back arching off of the cushioned floor. You sat up, kissing and sucking at her neck. Her arms encircled you, her hand tangled in your hair as she held you to her throat. You moaned against her skin as she rode you.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck…” Agatha whispered as she moved faster.

Suddenly, she tensed up, her body freezing her into a vision of pleasure. Her mouth hung open, her eyes squeezing shut. Her slick walls pulsed around you, making you shudder with your own orgasm. Another icicle fell as the fire grew again. You were still terribly hard in a way that was painful.

The whirring of the portraits snapped you from your haze. The one that was picked made your pulse quicken. You could see it had the same effect on your coven members. Rio smiled and Agatha looked you up and down.

Something inside of you took hold. You grabbed Agatha by the waist, flipping her onto her hands and knees. You looked at Rio, saying, “Move.”

Rio didn’t have to be told twice. She sat and opened her legs in front of Agatha. You checked the time, the hourglass half full. Sweat trickled down your face, the magic nearly driving you insane.

You moved to your knees behind Agatha, reaching down and grabbing her by the hair. She let out a shocked moan as you pulled her tresses before slamming into her. You shoved her head down into Rio’s pussy.

Her mouth immediately went to work, drawing hitches and sighs from Rio. You grabbed her by the hip with your free hand and pulled her into each thrust. The sound of moans, the wet sounds of Agatha’s mouth exploring Rio, and your thighs slapping against Agatha’s ass filled the tower. You felt a feral need to make her cum. Your hand went from her hair to her back. You dug your nails in and scratched down over its arch. You could feel the way Agatha reacted to it, knowing then that Agatha had a submissive side.

“Slap her,” Rio growled, “She loves it.”

You reared back, your hand coming down against her ass with a force. Agatha let out a wild cry against Rio’s warmth. She then went back to sucking on Rio’s clit, earning higher and higher moans. You knew she was close and also knew how to help Agatha to catch her up. You reached your arm around her and played with the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Ah! Fuck, yes!” she cried out, pressing her cheek to Rio’s inner thigh before returning to her.

The two women’s moans rose in pitch until all three of you broke. You fell forward, catching yourself on your hands before crushing Agatha. You could hear the shattering of another icicle as it fell. One left. The flames were several feet high and licking at the walls.

The carvings spun one last time. This one was more confusing than the others. Two women, lying one on top of the other facing the sky. The man was inside of one while the other held her.

“Ah, I see,” Rio said.

She guided Agatha as she laid down. Rio lay under her, her front pressing against her back. They were stacked on one another, waiting for you. You looked at the hourglass and saw how close you were to the end of your time.

You were on your knees when you held Agatha’s hips and thrusted into her. Her head fell back against Rio’s shoulder. You took no time for foreplay. You fucked her with abandon before pulling out of her, earning a violent glare.

You then slid into Rio, fucking her with the same force. She kissed and marked Agatha, her neck one big bruise. Your hands covered her breasts, pinching and tugging at them. She leaned down and kissed Agatha, pouring all of the hidden desire you had been harboring for her into it. You pulled out of Rio and sank back into Agatha, a whimper escaping her lips driving you absolutely insane.

She screamed as her cunt strangled you, her body spasming with her climax. You looked at her wild hair and her blissed out face. You wanted to remember this forever.

You then sank into Rio, pulling an animalistic growl from her that slightly scared you. Your thighs ached as you sped your thrusts, angling to find the part of Rio that made her scream. She shook and shrieked as she came with you following soon after, the pleasure blinding you for a moment.

The fire shot up, reaching the top of the tower as the final icicle fell. The walls melted down, water falling and rolling down to the ground. The carvings fell from the melted walls into the dirt. The hourglass filled and broke before disintegrating into a puddle. The fire that had been emanating from your magic returned to your hands. You looked down and your clothes were back and your member was gone.

“Well,” Agatha said, standing on wobbly legs before dusting herself off, “Good job, team.”

Rio snorted with a laugh, getting up and offering you a hand. You took it and walked with them, now knowing the trip down the road would be much more fun.

Thank you for reading! Reblog this if you liked it 🖤

[libingan]

— wolf’s den. (4)

summary: after finding yourself lost in the forest, you accidentally stumble across a wolf’s den. unfortunately for you, his intentions are dark and possessive—he's chosen you to be his mate, dragging you into a nightmarish world where escape seems impossible.

cw: kidnapping, dark content, noncon, power imbalance, possessiveness, violence, wolf hybrid! ghost x bunny hybrid! reader

a/n: ONE MORE CHAPTER DOWN! honestly i had a fuck ton of shit to do today, but i got home like… 3 hours earlier than i expected to come home, so i immediately started writing this bc im making the most of my free time bc i start college next week lolz

part three | part five

simon's fury was palpable, a dark storm brewing within him as he prowled through the forest, his senses attuned to every sound, every movement. his rage was a living thing, fueling his determination to find you, to drag you back to his den where you belonged. you had dared to escape, to defy him, and he would make you pay for it.

the forest was his domain, every tree and path known to him like the back of his hand. he moved with predatory grace, his wolf instincts guiding him as he followed your scent. you might think you had a chance, but simon knew better. he knew you were scared, lost in the unfamiliar terrain, every step taking you deeper into danger.

you ran blindly through the forest, your heart pounding in your chest, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sent waves of fear through you. you couldn’t afford to stop, couldn’t bring yourself to rest. you knew simon was out there, hunting you with relentless determination. the thought of his fury, of what he would do when he found you, drove you forward.

the hours stretched on, the forest a maze of shadows and sounds. you stumbled over roots and rocks, your legs aching, your body trembling with exhaustion and fear. you were lost, every turn feeling like a wrong one, the trees closing in around you. you couldn’t shake the feeling that simon was right behind you, his presence a dark specter haunting your every step.

then, it happened. your foot snagged on something, and a sharp, excruciating pain shot through your leg. you screamed, the sound tearing through the silence of the forest as you fell to the ground. you looked down to see a trap clamped around your ankle, the metal teeth biting into your flesh, blood pooling around the wound. the pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that left you gasping for breath.

simon heard your scream, his ears perking up, his eyes narrowing with predatory focus. he followed the sound, the scent of your blood leading him straight to you. his fury was a burning rage, his need to punish you consuming every thought. he moved swiftly, his instincts guiding him, until he found you.

you were struggling, tears streaming down your face, your hands desperately trying to free yourself from the trap. the sight of you, bloodied and vulnerable, only fueled simon’s anger. he stormed over to you, his eyes blazing with fury as he grabbed you, pulling you roughly to your feet.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “you think you can just run away from me?”

you whimpered, your body trembling with pain and fear. “please, simon, I—”

he slapped you, the force of the blow sending you to the ground. “shut up,” he spat, his hand gripping your hair, yanking your head back so you had to look at him. “why would you run away? why would you do this to me?”

your mind was a whirlwind of terror and pain. “please, simon, I didn’t mean to—”

he pushed you down, his weight pinning you to the ground, his breath hot against your ear. “you think you can escape me? you think you can defy me?” he hissed, his anger a palpable force. “you’re mine, and you’re never getting away.”

the pain and fear were overwhelming, your body shaking with sobs. “please, simon, I’m—”

“what?” he demanded, his grip tightening. “what excuse do you have?”

“i’m pregnant!” you screamed, the words tearing from your throat in a desperate plea.

simon froze, his grip loosening as he stared at you, his eyes wide with shock. the anger in his expression faded, replaced by a mixture of disbelief and something else, something softer. he released you, his hands trembling as he pulled away, his mind racing to process what you had just said.

“you’re... pregnant?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

you nodded, tears streaming down your face. “yes, simon. i’m pregnant. please, don’t hurt me.”

the change in simon was immediate. the fury drained from his eyes, replaced by a look of concern and protectiveness. he gently helped you to your feet, his movements careful and tender. “i didn’t know,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “i didn’t know.”

he carefully inspected your wound, his hands gentle as he worked to free you from the trap. “we need to get you back home,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “i’ll take care of you. i promise.”

you nodded, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of fear and pain. you didn’t know what the future held, but for now, you were safe. simon was different now, his anger replaced by a fierce protectiveness. he would take care of you and your unborn child, and you would never have to face his fury again.

simon carried you back to his den, his grip secure but surprisingly gentle. the journey was silent, the only sounds the occasional rustle of leaves and your quiet sobs. once inside, he carefully laid you on the bed, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of further distress.

he disappeared for a moment, returning with a damp washcloth and a first aid kit. he knelt beside you, his touch soft as he began to clean the wound on your ankle. you winced, but his hands were steady, methodical. “this will hurt a bit,” he warned, his voice low.

you bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears as he disinfected the wound and wrapped it in clean bandages. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

simon’s eyes met yours, a strange mix of emotions flickering across his face. “you don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly. “you’re mine. it’s my job to take care of you.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the power he held over you. you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

simon finished bandaging your ankle and stood up, his eyes darkening with a familiar hunger. he reached out, pulling you towards him. “now,” he murmured, his voice taking on a predatory edge. “let’s take care of something else.”

you shook your head, panic rising in your chest. “please, simon, I’m not—”

he cut you off, his grip tightening. “no arguments,” he growled. “you’re going to do as I say.”

you tried to pull away, but he was too strong. he pushed you down onto the bed, his hands moving to unbutton your shirt. “simon, please, don’t—”

he ignored your pleas, his eyes filled with a dark determination. “you’re mine,” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “and you’re going to show me just how much.”

he forced your head down, positioning you between his legs. “suck,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

you hesitated, tears streaming down your face, but the pressure of his hand on your head made it clear you had no choice. you opened your mouth, taking all the inches in, the taste bitter and overwhelming.

“that’s it,” simon murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “just like that, pet.”

you choked, trying to pull back, but his grip was unrelenting. he forced you to take his cock deeper, your throat constricting as you struggled to breathe.

“don’t you dare stop,” he growled, his voice a low rumble. “you’re going to take all of me.”

the tears blurred your vision, your mind a haze of fear and humiliation. you fought to keep up, to do as he demanded, but it was overwhelming. your body ached, your throat raw, but simon didn’t relent with his thrust.

finally, he pulled you up, his eyes dark with desire. “good girl,” he murmured, his voice a twisted blend of praise and possession. “now, get on the bed.”

you obeyed, your body trembling as you laid down. simon positioned himself above you, his eyes locking onto yours. “you’re mine,” he whispered, his voice filled with a dangerous intensity. “and I’m going to show you just how much.”

he entered you with a rough thrust, the pain and pleasure mingling in a twisted symphony. you cried out, your hands gripping the sheets as he took you, his movements demanding and unyielding.

his growl of satisfaction was the last thing you heard before you succumbed to the overwhelming sensations, your body and mind surrendering completely to the wolf who had claimed you.

simon’s dominance was unprecedented as he pounded into you, his every thrust brutal and relentless. the raw power of him was evident in every movement, his wolf instincts taking over completely. your body was pinned beneath him, every part of you vulnerable to his demanding touch.

“who do you fucking belong to?” he snarled, his voice a fierce growl. his grip on your hips was bruising, his movements rough as he drove into you with savage intensity.

you could barely manage to gasp out a response, the force of his thrusts making it hard to think. “y-you, simon,” you managed to choke out, your voice breaking with the effort. “i belong to you.”

simon’s eyes blazed with satisfaction at your submission. “that’s right,” he growled, his thrusts never faltering. “you’re mine, and you fucking know it.”

the intensity of his movements was overwhelming, each thrust pushing you further into a state of surrender. your hands gripped the sheets, your body trembling beneath him as he took what he wanted. every whimper, every cry of pleasure was met with a growl of approval from simon, his focus solely on claiming you completely.

he paused briefly, pulling you up by the hair, forcing you to look at him as he panted heavily. “tell me,” he demanded, his voice a rough whisper. “who owns you?”

“you,” you gasped, your voice barely audible as he held you in place, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce, possessive hunger.

simon’s response was a low, satisfied growl as he resumed his relentless pace, his movements unrelenting. the rough pleasure was all-consuming, the pain and pleasure blending into a single, overwhelming sensation. you were completely at his mercy, every part of you claimed by his dominance.

he continued to ravish you with an insatiable hunger, his need driving him to take you in every way he wanted. the raw, primal intensity of his actions left you breathless and trembling, your mind lost in a haze of surrender and pleasure.

finally, with a final, forceful thrust, simon reached his peak, his body shuddering with the intensity of his release. you followed close behind, the overwhelming sensations pushing you to the edge as you cried out in response to his dominance.

afterwards, simon’s hold on you softened, though his eyes remained fiercely possessive. he pulled you close, his breath hot against your skin as he held you tightly. “you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a low, possessive growl. “and don’t you ever forget it.”

as you lay there, spent and trembling, you realized the full extent of his control over you. there was no escaping his dominance, no breaking free from his claim. you were his, completely and irrevocably.

[bellaofthevalley]

Stellaron Hunters: Singing Dove

Content warning: yandere themes, polyamorous relationship, reader is gender-neutral.

It starts with a chase. 

It always starts with a chase. 

You run through the cold, deep snow. Dried leaves and twigs hiding under the snowy blanket crunch beneath your boots, and the little cracking noises they cause makes you want to cry painful, heaving sobs that shake through your frame. 

The moon hangs high in the sky, your singular source of light. You are so deep within this frozen wasteland, not even Belebog's lights show on the horizon. 

A perfect place for them to hunt you. But hunt truly is too kind of a word; a prey has at least a singular, sliver chance of survival. You are merely a toy between their clutches, ever so often placed in a new playground for their amusement, but at the end- 

You will be back with them. It is, after all, part of the script. Always, always, always- 

You stumble and fall on your hands and knees with a painful gasp, foot catching within viney branches that dig into your boots and pants. You'd been running so much, for so long, you hadn't even realised just how out of breath your poor lungs were. 

In, and out. In, and out. In, and out.

You take in one, last big breath before finally looking back to get your foot out of the vines and hopefully, with the mercy of Qlipoth the Preservation and any Aeon that will listen, escape from this hellhole- 

Only to meet two red piercing eyes staring at you from such darkness, not even the moon could disperse it. Peering, watching, waiting. 

"No!" The frightened scream tears itself out of your throat, and your lack of breath and aching foot are forgotten entirely. In the distance, among the flying crows and skittering spiders, you heard the tinkling laugh of a woman.

Everything is dangerous. Everything is dangerous. Everything is dangerous-

He tells you everything is dangerous as he sharpens a sword, cracks going through its cold blade like broken glass. His voice is low, but his eyes are staring straight at you. Gazing, scrutinizing, waiting. 

How many days, weeks, and months have you spent with them now? With him? You know his past by now, something he'd confided in you in the lonely, dead hours of the night, where you craved interaction even from someone like him. When he would crave interaction from you, would seek you out and hoard your time with the excuse that Kafka demanded he needed you to heal him and soothe his mara-struck mind with your singing, nimble fingers unwillingly going through his hair. 

Everything is dangerous, Bǎo bèi. You will stay here with us.

She tells you everything is dangerous without telling you. You are on her lap, so shamefully naked and exposed yet she lounges against the tub as if the world is her oyster to pick, hands on your waist and nails slightly dragging against your skin until there are raised goosebumps trailing up your body. 

It might as well be her world to rule. 

You will not leave, my darling. She says with the softest laugh, burying her pretty face in your tender throat and kissing your skin. Her perfume still clings to her skin, leaving your mind hazy and muddled- all thoughts of your burning homeland they took you from washing away until all you can think of is her, her, her. She's a devil and a devil hunter; she is a spider that has spun into a web you can see neither the start nor end of, demands your songs as if you, your songs and voice all belong to her. 

Everything is dangerous, my lovely. You will not leave, not now nor ever.

You run and run, boots so torn every twig and rock digs into your delicate skin. You are crying, too, stumbling against trees and branches. The noise that comes out of your throat is half-sob, half-prayer. Mercy, oh Aeon, grant me mercy. 

You speed past the forest. It does not matter where you are, only that you leave. There are so many snapping noises, but all of it is from your running so you- you are sure you are safe- 

No more trees, and the lights from Belebog now shine like the very stars of hope. So close now, and freedom tastes so unbelievably sweet on your tongue. You reach a hand out- 

And fall down again, staring up at the star-less sky with wide eyes and a frantic heart. 

No twig or branch made you fall. 

Spider webs did. 

The moon is so beautiful.

"The moon is so beautiful, isn't it, my darling?" 

Kafka looks down on you, kneeling down by your side. Her pretty eyes gleam in the encroaching darkness, mouth stretched into a small smile that is anything but kind. 

Yet her touch is so very gentle when she cups your face, wipes away the lone tear trickling down your cheek. She is even gentler when she leans down to kiss the corner of your lips, this time tasting your second tear. 

It makes her sigh, so awfully fond. The spider web clings to your body, crawling up your limbs. You are unaware of Blade slowly coming out of the woods, your focus entirely on Kafka. 

"You tried your very best," she croons, voice low and soft. Her smile widens, thumb swiping across your chapped lips, smoothing out the furrowed lines between your brows. "But it wasn't enough, was it? It will never be enough, either. But, oh, how beautiful you looked as you ran and ran, so fully convinced you even had a small chance of success… like a frightened rabbit. Isn't that right, Bladie?" 

Blade's silence is unsurprising, and you are glad for it as you finally descend into sobs, turning your head away from her even as her hand chases your face. All of it… was just an illusion? All of it? 

"Carry them, Bladie." Kafka orders, chuckling. She plays with your hair for a few seconds, humming before she kisses you, kisses under your lashes, one last time and gets up. "Carry them home, where they belong." 

 It ends with you back in their arms. 

It always ends with you back in their arms. 

Masterlist.

[terrence-silver]

Imagining high school sweetheart!beloved and Terry getting married before he gets shipped off to war and Beloved always sending letters to Terry while he’s away

Bonus: Terry comes back home after the war and finds Beloved’s unsent letters to him that were written when he was M.I.A. and sees how worried she was about him

---

I feel nobody would believe Twig is married because he's, well...Twig!

He's so young! So shy! So wide eyed! Scrawny! The idea of Privates infinitely more experienced and worldly than him only just being in the stage of sharing correspondence back home with their respective sweethearts and go-steady girlfriends while this kid here is already legally married is straight out of the Twilight Zone for most of his fellow soldiers who immediately wrote him off as a sore loser, perhaps with the rare exception of John Kreese who stands up for him and defends him when he's teased and called a liar who just about invented a full-blown Missus for himself to seem cool and less of a wimp in the eyes of everyone else, the letters he receives from beloved deemed fabricated one way or another even though they're actually entirely legitimate, the parcels bearing the seal of the military mail, arriving the same as everyone else's packages do.

''Did your momma write those?''

Someone might cruelly jest right before Kreese gives them a look, telling them to step off.

Gets slightly worse during POW captivity. All the members of Twig's platoon are in the same mess but it doesn't prevent in-fighting and the day-to-day cruelty and microaggressions from continuing even inside of a cage when validly, once communications are entirely cut off and they're trapped deep in enemy territory, there is no way for beloved's letters or anyone's as for that matter to come in and circulate, and the soldiers and even Twig's own Commanding Officer Turner never let him forget that like he's somehow to blame (And in their mind's eye, he is. They feel he's got them all captured through his negligence and incompetence. There will be payback for that. If the Vietcong don't do him in, his own will. For all Turner cares, Terry Silver got them here and pray to God, in the following weeks, he'll make this kid's life so difficult in this cage he'll wish the Vietcong ended him day one, bullet to the brain, same as Ponytail and what better way to utilize psychological warfare than to use the boy's own spouse against him the way he later tries with John and Betsy), finding it an apt pastime to pester one of their own even when facing death, torture and execution from the Vietcong that captured them. It's easier in a weird and very sick sense; poking and prodding at the weakest link in the hierarchy of things to better endure the gravity of the situation and just forget for a while.

You do some pretty awful things under duress.

''Guess the love letters stopped now, eh, Twig?'' Turner mocks.

''Momma back home ran out of ink?''

The older man laughs into his own chin as Twig scoots further back against the bamboo bars of their shared jail, missing beloved so badly he can feel the ache of it in his bones, loathing the fact he has no control of anything going on and John Kreese, witnessing the sight and having stood up for his friend countless times vows that one of these days, he's gonna give their Commanding Officer a piece of his mind even if he ends up court martialed for it after they're released seeing as how John can vouch that if the other soldiers are boneheads Captain Turner has enough intel on his own men to know for a fact Twig never lied and that he is in fact married back home. That beloved's real the same way his Betsy is real. Man has no excuse for the hell he's putting Twig through just because he can. John gets his chance to retaliate for the abuse a few weeks later once the Vietcong force them to fight over an open pit of snakes.

As for Twig?

Once they're rescued from the POW camp, he is finally reunited with the stack of letters beloved's been sending him back at base and it's like being reunited with a missing limb. When he gets home, beloved gives him a package of unsent mail just around the time he was captured and gone missing. Everything he's been made fun of entirely real and genuine; not one word of it a lie or made up. Everything right there, in black and white, written down with beloved's own pen. Every bit of concern. Fear. Care. Of course, it only serves to turn him a little more...well...Terry Silver as we know him. No point in being truthful if he won't be believed anyway, even when he is. Might as well fabricated. Might as well manipulate. Everyone who ever laughed at him died. And he's here. He survived. He is loved. He's won. And he'll keep winning and winning.

He hugs the stack of letters and beloved close to his chest with a vice grip.

The first seeds of something very dark have long been sown.

[moonswolfie]

Dinner time

timeskip!Osamu x gn!reader

Warnings: Reader is skinny, (past) verbal abuse, ED (?)

This is very self-indulgent and I haven't been diagnosed with an ED but my relationship with food can be seen as ED-like so I put the warning there

I was in an Osamu mood so I decided to write a sweet little story for him ahahasshahsah this man ≧ ﹏ ≦ (please excuse my horrible attempt at giving Osamu the accent)

Being married to Osamu was great. He treated you well, was an entertaining person and you got hooked up with the latest sibling drama straight from him.

But the one part that always bothers you is mealtime. Osamu is a great cook, which isn't surprising since he owns a restaurant and you love his food.

This would be great if Osamu wouldn't dote on you through his food so much. He always gave you the biggest servings to make sure you were well-fed and happy. It was his way of showing he loves and cares about you.

Your stomach couldn't handle large servings of food, it never could, even since childhood. Your parents always made fun of you and told you that you eat like a little baby, so you were scared he would make fun of you too if you told him.

So you tried your hardest to eat as much as you could every time, even if you weren't hungry at all or even if you felt like throwing up after. You ate even if you didn't have an appetite.

But it was worth it, seeing him smile happily while you were eating his food.

It was time for dinner again, something you grew to dread more and more.

You see, Osamu thought you enjoyed eating such big portions since you always finished them so fast when in reality you were trying to get it over with as quick as possible. So he thought he would make then even bigger.

You knew he just wanted to see you happy and that it made him very happy seeing you eat his food but you couldn't handle it anymore.

"Come here, darlin'. I cooked yer favourite." Osamu invited you to sit with him. You tried your best to hide your discomfort as you sat down across from him.

Looking at your plate, you already felt nauseous. He really did cook your favourite, but the amount...

You couldn't bring yourself to do it anymore. You ate slowly, and eventually stopped, just picking at your food to give the illusion of eating.

Osamu seemed to notice pretty quick, since his usual smile wasn't there. "What's wrong? Why aren't ya eatin'?" he asked, concerned.

"Samu, I can't do this anymore." you put down the chopsticks, looking at him with worry. He seemed taken aback and confused by the sudden change of behaviour on your end.

"What are ya talkin' about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Osamu, I've always had a really small appetite. I've never been able to handle big portions of food and I often feel sick after eating." you confessed, looking down at your plate. Now you're going to be made fun of, told you look like a twig, that you eat like a toddler. Maybe he'll tell you to stop being ridiculous and keep eating.

You closed your eyes in anticipation of whatever insult was going to be thrown your way.

"...Why didn't ya tell me that?" his question surprised you, opening your eyes to look at him. He looked concerned.

"I'm sorry it's just- You looked so happy when I ate all your food. I didn't want to let all the food you cook for me go to waste." you admitted, looking down at your plate again.

"So ya mean to tell me you've been forcin' yerself to eat all that food for months now." he crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. You shrunk under his gaze.

"Maybe... I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner, I-"

"What am I gonna do with ya? You gotta tell me these things, ya know?" he sighed, expression softening.

"...You're not mad?"

"Why would I be?" he looked at you as if you said something really ridiculous.

"My parents used to get mad at me when I didn't eat and called me a baby and a skeleton for eating so little." you didn't dare to look at him after you admitted that.

"Yer parents are assholes. Yer the one who knows yer body the best, I ain't gonna judge ya fer that." you couldn't stop the smile that crept up on your face. He was... okay with it?

"I'm just mad ya didn't tell me sooner. Now I feel bad for makin' you eat all that food." his eyebrows furrowed.

"No, don't feel bad. I was the one who didn't say anything and ate the food." you assured him with a relieved expression.

"Your food is amazing, I would just prefer if you gave me smaller portions from now on." you reached over the table to lightly grab one of his hands, squeezing it affectionately.

"I got ya. And by the way, yer body is beautiful." he said, squeezing your hand back.

[anne-chloe]

Underground | II |

Jareth/Goblin King x F! Reader

Summary : You begin your journey into the Labyrinth, and you almost lose your footing.

"How do I get in?"

You grumbled to yourself, pacing up and down the wall that prevented you from entering the labyrinth. You'd been searching for a way in for at least 15 minutes, and by now you were despairing in frustration. How were you supposed to complete the labyrinth and save Harry if you couldn't even get in?

Is this what the Goblin King meant by his labyrinth being complicated?

You stopped, huffing loudly while setting your hands firmly to your hips. You stared at the wall ahead, practically glaring. There must be an entrance that you just weren't seeing. Maybe it blended in with the wall, it was camouflaged and that's why you couldn't find it so easily. It would make sense, seeing as how it guarded the castle.

You were never very good at puzzles, or mazes actually. You were kidding yourself when you'd said you had completed mazes before. You'd never gone through a maze by yourself, and there were always workers scattered throughout to offer help to those that needed it.

You highly doubted that there would be guides within the labyrinth offering support.

A noise caught your attention. You lowered your hands and turned to the side, now staring at a creature from behind. A fairy, it looked like; a small thing, giggling and fluttering around in a small patch of flowers that was dusted with glitter. It seemed as though everything had a sparkle to it. It made the labyrinth seem less dangerous than it obviously was. A false sense of security.

"Excuse me?" You timidly asked, now approaching the fairy with exceeding caution, afraid that you'd frighten it off. It stopped messing with the flowers and turned to look at you, now falling quiet with curiosity. You crouched down and held out your hand, watching in childish delight as it perched itself into your palm. "Hi," you whispered happily, "I'm looking for the entrance to the labyrinth. Do you happen to know the way in?"

The fairy nodded eagerly, and pointed to the spot directly where you had been originally looking. You stood and turned, gasping in surprise as a large, gated door appeared where the wall used to be. You moved towards it as they slowly opened with a creak, and a ball of fog rolled out.

You looked down at the fairy and beamed. "Thank you for your help." You watched as the fairy hovered above your hand, a squeak leaving her mouth as her tiny hand waved, reflecting your delight. Then, she fluttered away, returning back to the flowers that you had found her in.

You stared into the foggy entrance, nose crinkling at the lack of vision. You began walking in, immediately spotting that the path either led left or right. You hummed in thought, wondering which way would be best to take. And staring down them, you couldn't see a visible turn or curve in either direction, leaving you with little ways to weigh out the pros and cons. Instead, you covered your eyes and decided to spin in a circle, and whichever way you stopped would be the way you'd go.

To the right.

You shrugged, feeling indifferent and set off walking. The fog began to fade out, and the sun beamed down from the sky. You stepped over roots embedded into the ground, and ducked under twigs that poked out from the walls. You kept your hand trailing on the wall, your eyes fixated ahead.

Another 15 minutes passed with you walking utterly straight. And soon you started to frown deeply at the lack of turnings and twists. There weren't any dead ends, and the pathway just seemed to continue onwards no matter what. You paused in the middle of the labyrinth, taking a moment to scan your surroundings in hopes that you'd missed any clues or signs. But no, there was nothing but glitter sparkling under the sunshine, and twigs that stuck out and often caught your hair.

"This is..." hard. You didn't want to admit it out loud, for the fear that the Goblin King would hear you. You didn't want to admit defeat so early on, not when Harry was depending on you.

God, you felt incredibly guilty for wishing him away. It had simply been a heat of the moment phrase; you didn't realise the consequences behind it. If you'd have known about its power, you would never have spoken those words. But, a part of you whispered cruelly that he deserved it; he had cheated, after all, and he even admitted that he'd known this woman for months before being caught. Your bottom lip quivered and your eyes threatened to produce tears again; how long would he have continued if you hadn't have caught him?

You hoped the goblins were poking fun at him for only wearing a bedsheet and nothing more. You hoped they'd tear it away from him and run wild around the castle, taunting him for his nakedness. You hoped he was sulking, reflecting back on everything he had done to cause you pain; you hoped he was wishing he'd never met you.

You shook your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts. You needed to focus on solving the labyrinth. If you continued to think about Harry and everything that had happened, you wouldn't make any progress. You could think about him later when you were in a better place to do so.

"'Allo."

You tensed at the voice. Glancing around, you felt your skin crawl at seeing nobody there. You blinked, weirded out.

"Down here!"

You tilted your head down, eyes scanning the floor, and finally, the wall. It was a worm. Wearing a scarf and a hat. You stared in surprise, having expected something else other than a worm. Perhaps a bird of sorts that could speak, or maybe another fairy as kind as the one you met at the entrance.

"Oh..." you muttered, lowering yourself again so you could speak with the worm a little better. It was strange, talking to creatures like this. You pushed aside the oddness of it all, and tried to remain focused on asking the correct questions. "I don't suppose you know the way through this labyrinth?"

The worm shook its head. You sighed in disappointment, having expected such an answer but feeling frustration nonetheless. "Nah, I'm just a worm. Would you like to meet the missus?"

You blinked at the worm, holding back a laugh. It had never crossed your mind before that worms might have relationships too, albeit not as complicated as a humans would be. "Uh, no thank you," you replied, smiling at the idea of making friends with a worm and its partner. "I'm on a bit of a tight schedule. Is there any particular reason as to why there's no turnings?"

The worm tilted its head. "No turnings?" It repeated, astounded by this information. "No, you're mistaken. There's a turning right in front of us!"

Alarmed, you looked over your shoulder and stared at the wall. You couldn't see an entrance anywhere. It was just a normal wall. You looked back at the worm, feeling slightly betrayed that it would shatter your hopes like that. "There isn't," you corrected, "it's just a wall."

"You're not looking close enough!" The worm insisted, nodding its head towards the wall.

You furrowed your brows together and stood up. Carefully, you held your hands out in front of you and took steady steps forwards. As you neared the wall, you expected your palms to come into contact with the cool stone, but instead you walked beyond it. You gasped in delight, pleased that the worm hadn't been messing with you and was correct.

"Oh, thank you!" You beamed brightly. Again, you were left with the choice of going left or right. You eyed both pathways in deep consideration. Well, hadn't you gone right the first time? You resolved yourself to go left, just to switch up the directions you were taking.

"Don't go that way!"

You stepped back, startled by the worms warning. "What... why?" You asked, now wearily looking down the path you had almost taken. Were there horrible creatures lurking down there? Traps and tricks that would only hinder your journey? If so, you were thankful that the worm had stopped you from advancing any further.

The worm shook its head. "Never go that way." Is all it said, and the grim look on its face only confirmed your suspicions. Dangerous creatures. The Goblin King had warned you that his labyrinth was dangerous and complicated, and so far he hadn't lied to you, and neither had this worm.

Grateful for the correction, you thanked the worm again and bid your goodbyes.

You continued onwards, pleased that you were starting to finally make some decent progress in the labyrinth. You were beginning to worry that you weren't smart enough to solve it; perhaps you weren't smart enough, considering you had acquired the help of a fairy and a worm to guide you. Nevertheless, didn't that make you smart for asking? Surely that made you resilient in your own way.

You hummed a gentle tune as you walked on, now spotting the gaps in the wall that the worm had pointed out. You were met with a few dead ends, and a few twists that confused your whereabouts, but you soon found yourself out of the beginnings and in the very middle. You grinned, feeling exceedingly proud.

Take that, you thought smugly. It's not that complicated once you know what to look out for.

You again found yourself in a section of the labyrinth that seemed almost dedicated to twists and turns. You walked up steps and found yourself stuck, and you'd turn back around and walk into another dead end. You tried not to let your frustration grow. You glanced in the direction of the castle, keeping it in your sights and pushing forwards, taking the paths that pointed in its direction.

And as you walked, you found your mind wander in to the popular production of Aladdin. It was sold out on every night, and you were forever grateful to have been cast as Princess Jasmine. You hummed along to the tune of Arabian Nights, finding that the song was bringing you confidence and comfort as you continued to navigate through endless dead ends and false paths.

A few words you found yourself singing aloud, your voice echoing around the silent labyrinth.

"Oh, the music that plays as you move through a maze, in the haze of your pure delight."

You stepped over a stone block that stood jagged out of the ground. You headed down some steps, your fingers mindlessly brushing against the stone walls that seemed so randomly placed, but you knew they were thought of with meticulous care.

"You are caught in a dance, you are lost in a trance, of another Arabian night—"

You froze, eyes widening slightly as you assessed your newest challenge.

A drop in the floor. You peered over the edge, your shoe catching a stone and kicking it forwards. Down the stone went, and you watched in a grimace as it continued onwards, its end not making a single sound. You glanced over, noting how the other side was too far to jump across. You ran your fingers through your hair, knowing you'd need something to assist getting you across.

You scarcely looked around, finding nothing but other stones in sight. None of them were nearly big enough to block the drop. You frowned.

It's not like you could turn back and find another direction to go. You needed to go through this part, because slightly in the distance you could see the beginnings of a healthy green hedge, meaning you were definitely on the right pathway. This was something put in place as a challenge, something to slow down your progress.

You could always run and jump and pray that you'd make it, but you shook your head at the stupid, desperate thought. You'd land yourself to certain death, or a life threatening injury. You couldn't risk hurting yourself when you needed to find Harry. And if you were stuck down there, what use would you be? None.

You thoughts flashed to the Goblin King, who would surely be monitoring you. You wondered if he was impressed with how far and fast you'd come. Was he watching intently? Did he admire your ability to march onwards without giving up?

You huffed out a short laugh. Are you stupid? Surely the Goblin King wouldn't be engrossed in whatever you were doing. He must be busy ruling over his subjects, possibly creating plans for how he'd fit Harry under his rule. He probably didn't care much about your progress at all.

You began searching the nearby area for anything that would help you across. Then, you stumbled upon a large slab of stone. You grinned and tucked your fingers underneath, using all your strength to lift it up and drag it across the floor. It scraped loudly, its weight protesting to your determination. You grunted and puffed for air, feeling your hands and shoulders ache.

You had to pause several times to take a break. You frowned down at your scuffed fingertips, noting how red and raw they were looking from gripping a stone slab like that. But you continued on with your plan, determined to have it work as a bridge of sorts.

Once you reached the drop again, you began pushing the stone slab rather than pulling. It just about touched the other side before you ran out of stone to push, meaning it would work but would possibly be unstable. You wiped the sweat from your brow and gently placed your foot on the edge, testing it before throwing your entire body weight into it.

And so you began walking across. You held out your arms for balance. You refused to look down at the drop, and you instead focused on your feet. One foot in front of the other. Carefully creeping over to the other side.

A slight noise caught your attention. You paused, risking the chance to look up. A crystal ball rolled down the stone path, heading a steady pace in your direction. You blinked curiously at the sight, wondering where it had come from and why it appeared without a single blemish.

Then, the crystal ball stopped and it made a tiny tink as it gently bumped into the stone slab you were standing on. Your chest tightened in panic, and suddenly the stone slipped off the edge. You cried out and launched yourself forwards, fingers barely grabbing the ledge and holding you securely in place. You whimpered, feet dangling as the stone slab vanished bellow, noiseless and endless as it continued to plummet, just like the stone you had kicked.

Your fingers burned with the pressure of holding you up. You cringed, desperate to pull yourself up yet lacking the strength to do so. You tried, arms shaking as it hoisted your weight, your head poking over the top. You gasped, managing to tuck your arm on top of the ledge, securing you a lot better than your fingers had.

The crystal ball remained just a few inches from the ledge. You glared at it, practically hearing the Goblin King laugh at your misfortune. How could you possibly think he wasn't watching? He must be dearly entertained by this entire situation. He must have cackled when you screamed in fright. How cruel.

Finally, you gave one last pull and managed to roll onto the ledge. You awkwardly caught your arm on a jagged stone sticking upwards, tearing the skin on your forearm. A streak of blood trickled down, and you hissed at the sudden pain. Looking on the bright side, a cut on your arm was better than plunging endlessly to your death.

After catching your breath and allowing your heart rate to settle, you reached over and snatched the crystal ball from the floor. You eyed it suspiciously in your hands, wondering if something would happen. But nothing did. It was useless. You scoffed loudly, hoping that, if the Goblin King was still watching, he'd hear your displeasure for nearly getting you killed.

You stuffed the crystal ball into your pocket and shakily stood up, now heading towards the pathway with the luscious green hedges rather than jagged stone walls.

While you hoped it would be easier to navigate, you had a trembling feeling that this wasn't the last time that the Goblin King would interfere with your journey.

[pasiphile]

Hi there! Twiddling my thumbs on how to/whether to say this, but finding your Sherlock fic as a teenager (yeah, we’ve both been here that long, I am now eyeing my thirties in the street) was incredibly formative.

TVD (and Good Girls Don’t) was one of the first brain-changingly good pieces of online fiction I had ever read, and it made the days I worked that soul-wearying first job a little brighter. Or a lot. You gave me imagination and a playground for exploring my own writing, which continues to be a primary joy in my life. So — these two words aren’t enough. Thank you. 🩵

So, on to the writing! I have to ask for a Mormor prompt. Maybe the boys enjoying each other after a long absence, bonus for domesticity?

(gosh. I occasionally get messages like this and I always have to stare at the wall for a bit. I wrote it at a rather shitty time for me too and it definitely helped me get through it, so the thought that I made - make!- other people feel the same way means A Lot. Thank you <3)

The flat feels empty. Too empty.

It’s strange. It never did before. An empty place all for himself had been a luxury for many years. And after that, a necessity, a way to relax, recharge.

Except now all of a sudden the silence is too silent, the order too neat, the spaces too big. It’s absurd, and annoying.

He leans his head forward against the window, looking down at the street below. So many people and yet there’s just one, just one out of seven billion, who feels like –

The door opens behind him and he straightens up. “I’m back!” Sebastian’s voice bellows through the living room.

“I can see that.”

Sebastian starts, only spotting him now, then grins. “And I’m sweating like a pig. Manchester to London on public transport and let me tell you, those trains are not equipped to deal with thirty-five degrees Celsius, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll head straight for the shower.”

And before Jim can even think to react, mind and action sluggish in a way that’s totally inexcusable, Sebastian has dropped his bag and he strides past, already taking off his stained T-shirt and leaving behind a waft of deodorant and sweat and stale cigarettes, disgusting except it isn’t.

“Pick up your dirty laundry, you’re not a teenager,” Jim says, more on automatic than out of conscious thought, but Sebastian obediently doubles back to pick the shirt up, no comment.

The bathroom door closes. A moment later, the sound of the shower.

When did this happen? When he’d invited Sebastian to live with him? Before that, the first time he’d let him into the flat? When did he start to fill the spaces Jim hadn’t even been aware were empty?

He goes to the bathroom and slips in, quietly even though it’s futile to Sebastian with his SAS-instincts.

The dirty clothes are obediently in the hamper, tidied away. The steam smells of soap, not his, all alien and all familiar.

The shower switches off and Sebastian steps out. He grins, again, and spreads his arms as if to present the goods. “Did you miss me, then?”

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s smile slips. It’s too open, too bare, they don’t do this sort of thing, Jim doesn’t do this sort of thing.

“Of course I miss a loud, stinking oaf of a man dirtying up my flat,” Jim adds, and Sebastian relaxes, never mind that it’s actually true. “And you? Pining for home?”

“The moment I stepped out of the door.” Sebastian shrugs and turns to the mirror, absently running a hand through his hair. “You know me, I’m sappy that way.”

Jim grabs Sebastian’s arm and yanks him around, other hand finding his throat and slamming him against the wall, or rather, Sebastian lets him do all that because as always the balance is in his favour, Sebastian could break him like a twig if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t. That’s the point.

“Missed you too,” Sebastian says, voice slightly constricted through the chokehold. “This, especially. Now can you calm the fuck down?”

Jim loosens his grip, breathes out. “You know I should have you killed.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, calmly. “But you don’t. Do you?”

“No.” He leans in, nose against Sebastian’s throat, nothing there left now but the scent of soap, the one Jim got him a month ago because he was tired of Sebastian smelling like a locker room full of teenaged boys.”

“All right. Now that’s out of the way, can we  nghk “

Jim gets his teeth from Sebastian’s neck and leans back, smiling beatifically while his other hand keeps a new chokehold on Sebastian’s cock. “Yes?”

Sebastian gasps for air, then smirks, so wide it threatens to split his face. “Whatever you want.”

That’s the point.

Jim returns the smirk, then lets go and without even needing prompting, Sebastian goes to his knees.

[kokinu09]

can you write me a felix apocalypse fic 🤔

running ‘til the end

word count : 2083

A/N : Thanks keeps, new series unlocked 😂

trigger warnings : none yet

~~*~~

The bowstring is pulled taut beside his ear, aimed directly at the grazing doe a few yards away. Felix keeps his breathing steady, eyes sharp on his target.

He can’t let the potential meal get away this time. Hunger gnawing at his insides from just the thought of finally getting to eat something substantial.

The air is quiet around him. Only the sounds of nature filling the silence. The slight breeze rustling the leaves and overgrown grass, the occasional chirp of a passing bird, the snap of a nearby twig—

The doe’s head whips up before she darts away to disappear in the wild brush.

“Wha—! No!” He quietly curses, forced to lower his bow as he watches his prey completely vanish in the overgrowth. His teeth grit in anger, eyes sweeping the area to find the source of what started the deer instead.

Some rustling catches his attention at the edge of a tree line not far across from him, reflexively raising his bow in defense towards the presence. He half expected to see an undead monster stumbling into the clearing. But, to his surprise, he sees two boys looking to be around his age carelessly bickering as they come out into the open.

“How could you possibly think that was a good idea!” The shorter of the two huffs, cheeks puffing out like a rodent’s full of food as he stumbles trying to keep up.

“You’re just mad you weren’t the one to think of it,” The taller, more slender boy quips. His movements smooth and graceful as he easily maneuvered through the leaves and branches.

“Excuse me?! You think I wanted to nearly break my neck from that jump?!”

“Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t even that hi—”

Felix stands, making himself known with his bow drawn, deciding enough is enough. If these trespassers keep it up, they’ll scare every animal in the area so far away, he’d have to cross the border to catch them. Or attract the unwanted attention of a hoard of brainless monsters that would kill them all anyway.

The tall one spots him almost immediately, cutting himself off when his movement catches the corner of his eye. He freezes and his friend bumps unceremoniously into the back of him.

“H-hey! Why’d you stop—” When the other boy finally lifts his head to look around, his spine stiffens too, eyes blown wide with panic.

Felix tightens the bowstring a fraction more, prepared to pierce them through the heart if they even so much as move too quickly. “You should go back the way you came,” he tells them firmly.

Both boys have their hands raised in surrender. “Y-yeah! W-we definitely will do that!” The cheeky boy laughs nervously, elbowing his friend. “Hyunjin, let’s go,” he urges through gritted teeth.

“No, we can’t,” the tall boy hisses right back, not looking away from the arrow pointed straight at them.

“What do you mean?! We’ll find another way! But we can’t die here!”

“We’ll all die anyway if we turn back.”

Felix isn’t sure if they realize that he can hear their little quarrel, or maybe they don’t really care if he does. But his curiosity is peaked nonetheless.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks the two strangers and when he gets startled looks from both of them he clarifies. “‘We’ll all die anyway if we turn back.’ What did you mean by that?!” His voice rising from impatience.

“Alright! Ok! Relax, we’re not here for a fight.” The tall boy says, trying to reassure the tense boy in front of them. It does little to ease Felix’s nerves.

“There wouldn’t be a fight anyway,” Felix threatens, his deep voice rumbling with promise. He can see the color drain from the smaller boy’s face. “Now talk!”

“Our water supply was contaminated!” The tall boy shouts. It feels like the whole world goes silent in reaction to his heavy words. And it’s Felix’s turn to stand frozen. “If we don’t find another water source, then we die. Happy now?” The sarcasm and malice dripping from his tone is palpable.

A few moments of silence stretches on between them, feeling much longer than they should, until Felix very slowly lowers the bow. His eyes still watching them cautiously, however. The two boys follow suit lowering their hands as tense sighs leave their lungs.

“How many are in your group?” He asks more calmly now.

“Four! We split up to search more of the area!” The smaller boy blurts out, earning an elbow from his friend. “Ow what?!” He questions in annoyance.

“We don’t know if we can trust him! Don’t spill all our secrets,” the tall one replies through gritted teeth.

“Well he didn’t shoot us in the heads so I’d say we can trust him at least a little,” the other pouts.

“Again, you know I can hear you right?” Felix can’t help but chuckle at their banter now, sliding the arrow back into the pack slung over his shoulder.

“Right. Sorry,” the tall one apologizes with guarded eyes. “I’m sure you can understand my hesitation though.” Felix nods in agreement.

“Yeah, I understand better than anyone. I have people to protect too.” He admits as an olive branch for a truce. The wide eyed gasp he gets as a response to his honesty is a good sign. “I’m Felix.” He introduces before they can ask any more questions for information he might not be willing to tell.

“I’m Han!” He greets cheerfully, stepping around the taller boy to extend his hand out to Felix. “It’s nice to meet you!” The latter hesitantly shakes his hand but finds the wide smile that spreads across Han’s cheeky face contagious.

“Nice to meet you too, Han,” Felix says politely before turning to his companion expectantly. There is a tension as the two stare at each other.

Han looks back and forth between them, nervously wringing his hands together as the silence drags on. Until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hyun, be nice. Maybe he can help us,” he persuades in a quiet voice. The other boy looks at his friend skeptically then sighs.

“You’re right. I’m sorry…again.” His eyes drop, looking ashamed at how he’s acted. Felix knows, and he doesn’t blame him, so he offers a warm smile.

“I get it. To be honest, I’m still hesitant about you too,” Felix chuckles. This draws the other’s eyes up to meet his, sincerely grateful and curious at his good nature all of the sudden.

“Yeah,” he breathes a laugh along with him. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way.”

Felix’s smile widens. “It’s good to meet you, Hyunjin.”

Han makes a loud clap with his hands as a sign of finality, reasonably startling the other two half to death. “Now that that’s all settled and we’re all buddies now,” Han drawls out cheerfully, “do you know of a good water source around here?”

The lilt of hope in his question makes Felix feel a little guilty that he can’t just help them right away. Minho taught him better than that. These people may not be dangerous but they’re still strangers and he can’t trust them just yet.

“Um, maybe,” he answers honestly, quickly going on when he sees their faces drop in defeat. “I just have to talk to my people! I do want to help, but I…can’t put them at risk. I’m sure you can relate.” He offers and gets a nod of understanding from Hyunjin.

“Makes sense,” Han agrees too, but it doesn’t stop the sigh that escapes him.

Once again, Felix feels awful. So he quickly drops his backpack at his feet and digs through its contents until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Here! For in the meantime,” Felix says, handing over his canteen that’s three-quarters full of fresh water.

Han’s eyes grow wide, sparkling as he looks from the canteen to its owner. “Wait, are you serious?!” He asks excitedly.

“Of course! Take it! You can use it more than me!” Felix laughed, handing it over. Han eagerly takes it from his hands and turns to Hyunjin with a huge smile.

The latter motions for him to go ahead, prompting the cheeky boy to twist the cap and take a big slug. He groans at the refreshing taste, then passes it to his friend who also takes a drink before replacing the cap. He goes to hand the container back to Felix but he shakes his head.

“No, no. You guys take it. Let the rest of your group have some, too.” Felix says encouragingly.

The canister gets handed back to Han, who holds it tightly to his chest. “Thank you Felix,” he says with the utmost gratitude and sincerity. Both boys offer him a deep bow but Felix waves his hands in denial.

“It’s no problem really!” He says with a laugh, helping both of them stand upright. “Listen, why don’t we meet back here tomorrow. I’ll talk to my people and see what they say. You bring the rest of your group and we can try to work something out. How’s that sound?”

Han’s mouth opens with his smile but Hyunjin raises a hand to cut him off from speaking too quickly. “How many people are with you?” The taller boy asks.

Felix hesitates. Debating himself with how important that information is and how much he can trust these new people he desperately wants to help. If they’re not lying, they’re equal in numbers. And he knows they can all take care of themselves.

“We have four, too,” he admits.

Hyunjin raises a brow at him. “What a coincidence.”

“I’m not lying. They’re my three best friends,” Felix says.

“Prove it.” Han says quickly. “Stop hesitating and tell us their names,” he challenges.

And Felix doesn’t hesitate this time. “Lee Know, Seungmin, and I.N.”

“‘Lee Know? I.N?’” Han parrots. “Are those aliases?”

“It’s what they go by,” Felix responds. It’s not a bullface lie after all. They do go by those names with strangers. If it makes them feel safer, why would he introduce them as anything else? Then his voice lowers in warning. “Got a problem with that?” The threat clear in his tone.

“Easy! I do the same thing!” He squeaks, hands raised in surrender and a nervous laugh bubbling out of him. Felix’s brows lift in surprise. “My first name is Jisung if you’d rather call me that,” he adds with a shrug.

Felix smiles as he shakes his head with a chuckle. “Wow, we’re not so different, are we,” he says more to himself than to them. But they hear and they agree.

“I know it’s stupid to say, in this messed up world we live in now,” Han says softly, a vulnerability can be heard in his words, “but I hope we can become friends. When everything is said and done, I mean.” Felix’s eyes widen at the admission.

“Sungie…” Hyunjin sighs, taking a step closer to him. Ready to comfort the smaller boy when his hopes are smashed by an uncaring stranger.

The little voice in the back of Felix’s mind excited and shouting at him that he wants that too. That there was something about these two that he relates to and can feel that it’s fate they met today. But a bigger more rational part of his brain reminding him that it’s just not plausible to trust new people.

“I…wish we could too, Jisung,” Felix decides to say mournfully. The other’s eyes drop to his feet, nodding in understanding.

“Come on, Sungie. Let’s go back,” Hyunjin suggests, sliding an arm around his slumped shoulders. Then he looks back at Felix. “Will we still be able to meet tomorrow? Even if we just get a supply until we can find—”

“I’ll be here,” Felix cuts in, shaking his head to say he doesn’t need to explain. “One way or another, I’ll help you guys out. I promise.”

Both boys give him a grateful smile. “Thank you Felix,” Hyunjin replies before guiding Jisung back the way they came.

Felix watches as they leave, never turning his back on them until they’re out of sight. Like Minho had taught him. He lets out a deep sigh as he throws his pack over his shoulders to head his own way back home.

How is he supposed to explain this one to the others? And how can he make sure he keeps his promise to these people his heart is bleeding to help?

~~*~~

[the-teapot-hatter]

No bc imagine like MC using one of those gigantic lily pads instead of a small boat (bc boats are expensive) to fish and fucking Jack just sees this human fishing on a giant lily pad. Bonus points if they wear like put the flower on their head as like a hat or smth for “camouflage” LMAOO

Jack has seen a lot of strange things as a part of the Navy. For obvious reasons. Not only would they sometimes be pulled away to suit the position of regular guardsmen, but they would frequently go out with Sailers and deal with pirates.

But even with all of the strange things that Jack has seen, this is by far one of the strangest. To the point, all Jack could think was 'what the hell--'

Sitting on a giant lily bad, paddling out with some twig from a fallen branch, was the strange little human that he's been seeing around recently. Stranger yet, they were wearing the flower from the lily pad on top of their head, with a completely straight look on their face, unmoving.

'Do they think they're blending in or something!?' Jack didn't know what to think. Being left with complete disbelief, though this was far from the first time. Their first meeting, if it could even be called that, also left Jack completely speechless.

Then there was the fact that they were fishing, something they weren't supposed to be doing and was definitely illegal. Jack understands not being able to pay the expensive prices in the market for seafood, however a license is needed for a reason.

People who get licenses have to go through a handful of procedures and background checks, not only to make sure they are as safe as they possibly can be, but to make sure they don't have any affiliations with pirates.

Actually, it could be said that it was to avoid situations like this, because attempting to fish on a giant lily pad certainly wasn't the correct way to go about things.

Just as Jack was about to shout out for them, so they'd come back to shore and give him some other strange and out there excuse like all the other times before, they suddenly wildly jerked around and attempted to stab the water with their stick.

(Not entirely surprising either. One needed a license to buy proper fishing material, but this was ridiculous.)

Unsurprisingly, such an action caused them to tumble into the water. Jack sighed to himself, waiting for them to remerge at any given moment. Only, that's not what happened.

Instead, what he say was wildly flailing arms in the water, and a series of suspicious bubbles. They were drowning. This is why a license is needed. So it can be checked if you can actually swim.

Appalled, and a bit amused, by their stupidity, Jack jumped into the water in a hurry. He didn't appreciate them breaking the law (he had absolutely no right to judge), but he wasn't going to let them die because they were doing whatever it was that they were doing.

When Jack finally did manage to reach them, he was kicked, punched, whacked at (with both stick and fish). He was partially convinced they were trying to take him down with them.

"I'm trying to help you! Hold still!!" Jack snapped, only for them to turn on him with the most offended look, completely unwarranted since he was helping them, and shout--

"I'm a single parent with a child to feed and three guests to host. You won't take me alive!!" Before promptly whacking him with their fish, that they miraculously caught. Is this how Leona felt when he first met them?

"You? What? No, just hold still!" Jack argued, struggling to get a hold of them as they kept slipping away. To add insult to injury, when they finally seemed to be accepting his help, they used him as a stepping stool to get back to the giant lily pad.

Then began paddling away as quickly as possible.

Jack watched, amazed by the sheer absurdity of it all. He could easily catch up to them, but he had never actually been planning on arresting them. So, he watched on to make sure they didn't nearly drown again, where they watched him with a weary glare. Running off once they were on dry land.

Hours later, he was asked a question he hadn't been expecting.

"Howl, why do you have a flower on your head?" One of his other fellow Navy officers asked. He reached up, patting his head, surprised to feel something off.

He grabbed the offended material, pulling it down to reveal a flower. The very same flower the utter idiot had been wearing earlier today. How humiliating.

However, if not for the flower, he was sure he would think it was nothing more than one big fever dream.

[charleslee-valentine]

Remember my trans Drayton fic?

Well now it’s got a prequel!

dedicating this to @lavenderbones13 who inspired me to pick this back up!

______

Word count: 3,332

Ship(s): Lefton (Drayton Sawyer x Boude “Lefty” Enright)

Warnings: period typical (1930s/40s) transphobia and homophobia, implied child abuse, alcohol use, very mild sexual themes, pregnancy.

—————

Lefty can tell his love has a secret.

It started with the fighting. Every advance for intimacy, for gentleness, for a moment to just be in love like they used to, turns into a screaming match. One sided at that.

From the bottom of his heart, Lefty could never fight with his sweetheart of nearly five years. A few more and they’d be getting married, raising kids in their own little corner of the Texas dry lands.

Not at this rate, and that’s Lefty’s biggest fear.

They need to talk about this, before things get out of control. He can’t lose his chance at love like this. Nothing has ever made his heart feel so simultaneously full and fragile.

Come tomorrow, he’s going to bring a ring, and he’s going to beg to fix whatever has gone wrong.

~~~~~

His name is Drayton. He’s not some fucking pretty little girlfriend, baby-makin’ machine. He’s a man, and he demands to be referred to as such.

Drayton had practiced it in his head countless times. Lefty called, said he wanted to see ‘his lover’ again, getting Mama’s blessing to take him out and everything. Would be nice to scare him out his fancy boots, showing up with his hair cut off and his chest pressed flat, but Drayton has hopes using words can get by this time.

He trusts his Lefty. Goddamn it, he does, despite the fear in his bitter heart, and the warning sirens going off in his own mind. Sure he’s pushing Lefty away some, but….

No. No more lies and excuses. Drayton’s going to act his age, act like the goddamn man he is, and face this little problem head on.

And he’ll bring his gun in the truck just in case things go south.

Picking lead outta bodies before preppin’ them ain’t easy, but it’s what he’ll have to do if he’s gonna be hurt, whether he likes that reality or not.

~~~~~

Lefty brought flowers, brought the ring, brought a bottle of the good wine and glasses, even a quilt to lay on the grass. Good old fashioned pic-a-nic under the stars to win his baby back.

All he needs now is-

“My love.”

He’s a little breathless with want when he finally sees his beloved. It’s been too long. His heart can’t take much more distance.

“Enright.”

That can’t be good. On last name terms again.

His honey only calls him Enright when somethin’s real wrong.

He’s gotta try to play his cards, gently holding the hands of the love of his life, “Would you come out with me tonight? I miss you.”

The gruff, but tender answer he gets is very much appreciated, “Got nothin’ better to do… thought you’d never ask.”

~~~~~

Halfway through the night, Drayton just bursts, like a beaver dam under far too much pressure. Except it’s his heart snapping into pieces, not no twigs. Only took two glasses full of wine before he was hugging the entire bottle to his chest to take swigs occasionally, crying his eyes out and pissing his dignity down the drain.

Lefty rubs his back, but it ain’t enough to soothe him. Drayton sobs, “Yer gonna leave me. Yer gonna think I’m fuckin’ crazy.”

Another big drink straight from the bottle. He’s never held his alcohol well. Probably already a good bit tipsy.

For his part, Lefty’s reassurance doesn’t falter, promising, “I’d never. Cross my heart.”

“And the rest?” Drayton asks for more, selfishly, hoping to extinguish the pain in his heart.

“Hope to die and everything, honey.” Lefty cooperates, only to give Drayton’s cheek a gentle kiss, and beg real quietly, “Jus’ tell me what’s wrong, lover. We can fix it.”

Something about that choice of words makes a crack in his soul. Ignites a deep insecurity inside himself nobody quite knows of.

“No. No, I’m not broken, Boude. There’s no fixin’ to be done”

“Alright. Well can I at least know the problem I’m dealin’ with, so’s I know how to address it?” Lefty patiently prompts.

Drayton drinks half of what’s left in the bottle in one swig. Popping off it, he shakes his head, terrified, unable to drown this unease, “I…. Boude- I cant-“

“Take your time. Breathe, partner.” Lefty soothes again, pulling Drayton softly back to lean into his chest.

He strokes his arms, like he’s trying to warm him up, and maybe he is. Maybe this is Draytons final act before his heart gives out from all these emotions and he goes dead cold. Nah. His heart’s still beating too fast for that. Drayton gains the courage to speak, “You said you’d stick with me through anythin’.”

“That I did.”

“Would that include if I changed my name?”

A pause. “What’s wrong with E-“

“Stop. I’m not done.” Drayton interrupts, so tired of that old way of referring to him, that he explains all at once, “I don’t want to just change my name. I want to change my clothes too. And my hair. And my body. And the way you call me. I-I want to change.. my sex, Boude. I ain’t no woman.”

“Could you.. explain that?” Lefty prompts. Drayton starts to pull away, he’s scared that Lefty’s question is a trap, a way to make him detail every emotional detail he has. But Lefty holds him close through it, “No honey I just, I don’t know what you mean. Please..”

So Drayton takes one more drink, and just lets the floodgates go, rambling on, “It’s not like I understand it much. It’s some curse. Like I was.. born all mixed up or somethin’. My soul must’ve swapped with somebody else’s. Maybe one of Mama’s stillborns-“

“You don’t feel like yourself?” Lefty tries.

Now he’s starting to get frustrated, walking someone else through what he already knows, “What the hell do you think? Drayton is a man’s name, and Drayton is me!”

“Honey. Drayton. You do understand that, what you’re fixin’ to do-“

“Is liable to get me killed. Of course I know! But if that’s what’s gonna happen then goddammit just finish me off now.”

“You know I would never.” Lefty sounds real stern, a little hurt he’d even suggest it. Clearing up that confusion comes from his long-winded declaration next, “My love. Remember when you told me, you didn’t like your weight, or your frizzy hair, or your crooked teeth? That you wasn’t good enough for me?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Drayton mumbles sourly, turning to finally face Lefty instead of leaning his back against him.

Warm, blue eyes stare right back into his own. Intense and vulnerable and just plain loving. Drayton has to look down.

“That I told you I’m connected with your soul. Your body, sure I love it, and I love you, but it’s not up to me. Our love was written in the creation of this very universe. God meant us to be together. No matter what form you take. Drayton Sawyer.” Lefty sounds a lot like his preacher father talking that way, ranting at him. That’s a sign of how seriously he feels.

Somehow his confidence allows Drayton to let all his heart-achin’ show, “I can't go through with it.”

“I’ll help you, darlin-“ Lefty starts, but he’s cut off.

Drayton’s voice wobbles with his tears and the burn of alcohol, “Don’t you understand? If I’m a man, and I start lookin’ like one, we can’t be together!”

“On our own time, we can be. Nobody has to know. To the public, we’ll be friends still, but-“

“Boude. I can’t ask that of you. You’re always.. always kissin’ on me, holding my hands. Hiding your affection, it’s not-“

Lefty cups his face. Resumes the eye contact, starin’ into his eyes in a way that’s bordering on manic.

“Not going to break us. Never. Nothing can get in our way, you hear me?”

Drayton nods softly, sniffling to stop the tears that wanna fall, “But-“

“No more. I wanna help you. We’ll get you sorted and lookin’ yourself more like Drayton, yeah?” Lefty tries to cheer him up.

Drayton has a realization instead, color draining out of his face, “My mama’s gonna kill me.“

It’s not likely, but there was always the chance. Mama Sawyer done a lot of good by her son, and a lot of bad too. Namely, kicking him out a few times to have the house to herself and her ever-changing beau, forcing him to work since childhood. The woman didn’t want a child, she wanted a maid. But she could be kind when she needed to be. Sure, she’d hurt him, but she’d never abandon him, never do away with his life.

Lefty’s opinion of the woman is as low as low. His tone is barely subdued anger, “As if she’ll even notice. That woman is colder than hell frozen over. Never pays you enough mind, never has.”

“That’s my mother you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” Drayton warns softly. No matter how much he agrees, it’s never easy to hear that somebody from the outside can tell things ain’t happy-go-lucky.

It’s probably Lefty’s determination, as evidenced by his dedication to arguing this, “Exactly. And she’s never ought been a mother to ya.”

That gets Drayton a little defensive, “Funny. It’s your parents we’ll be hidin’ from. It’s mama told me I could bring home man or woman, so long as there’d be no love child sprung.”

Meanwhile, Lefty’s parents are the ones who sat the couple down and threatened to not let them see one another if they suspected them of pre-marital scex. They’re the folks that made Drayton kneel and pray at their hearth for God’s approval to date their child.

As much as Lefty can’t stand Mama Sawyer, Drayton can’t stand the Enright parents neither.

Apparently, Lefty agrees, “So they’re both shit. That leaves just us. Just you and me, Drayton.”

Huh. How about that.

Drayton finally puts down the bottle, realizing there’s no more than a sip or two left. His face is flushed, an unholy combination of alcohol and affection. The only thing warmer than his skin is a fond flame burning right in the center of his chest.

“You can stop sayin’ my name so much.” He attempts to get some space from the big feelings.

Lefty showers him in compliments instead, because of course he does, “I like it. It suits you. Better than E-“

Drayton puts a stop to that. “Well if you’re so damn obsessed, the old one dies, alright? No more calling me by that name.”

“Alright.” Lefty agrees, until he thinks of some extenuating circumstance, “Not even-“

“No. Never. If you goin’ through with all this, you’re gonna take me as is. And that ain’t her. She’s gone, Enright. You hear?” Drayton hides the quiver is his voice, by dropping it a pitch or two. It’ll help to have that skill later on anyhow.

“Yes sir.”

“Good.”

“Can I kiss-“

Drayton interrupts his twiddling about. No more words for now. No more questions especially. He’s sick of words. He wants feelings.

The kiss ain’t some dainty thing. Drayton cups Lefty’s face and guides him as close as two bodies can press, lips connected all the while. They’ve never made as much contact as here now, laying under the stars, all tangled up, kissing as deep and as furious as the bounds of their love.

Guilt is what stops it. Not only over the sinful (clothed. painfully modest) touching. Lefty looks blank-faced as he pulls back with another realization, “Drayton. Man ain’t supposed to lie with another man-“

Drayton throws his head back in frustration with it all, “Oh, hush. Man ain’t supposed to lie with nobody til he’s married. What’s it matter ‘til then? So long as you ain’t tryin’ to get hitched, we're square.”

The air sorta freezes up. Lefty shifts away, sitting them both up, “Well, actually…”

“Boude, you weren’t-“ Drayton looks furious. Don’t feel it.

Lefty thinks it’s best to just get it out there before he can start to regret, “I was… In a moment of desperation I… thought it’d be a good idea. I thought it might rekindle things and I… I love you. So I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

Except there’s one glaring problem now that Drayton is about to be outwardly himself, “It won’t be legal.”

“I know. I know that. I’ll put it away.” Lefty says, with the demeanor of a scorned child. Embarrassed. Cute.

Now, Drayton ain’t exactly eager to be legally bound to anybody, but he don’t like the way he can feel the hurt coming from his boy. He thinks of some distraction,

“What gem?”

“Hm?”

“What’s the stone?”

Lefty eyes him wearily, trying to interpret the meaning of his question, “A tiger’s eye. It’s for good luck.”

“That’s not.. too frilly. I-I wouldn’t mind-“ Drayton can feel his face has gone beet red.

Worth it for the way Lefty lights up. He produces the tiny crushed velvet box again,

“You wanna wear it?”

“Strictly for purpose of holding you accountable.” Drayton lies.

He wants to wear cause it’ll feel nice. Serve as a reminder that he’s wanted at least somewhere in the world. Not that it’ll be easy. That reminder gonna be noticed by somebody else soon enough.

And then they’ll be in for a world of trouble.

“Here, my love.” Lefty offers it up, when Drayton reaches for the ring insisting on putting it in for him. Two fingers down from where an actual wedding band would go. A promise ring. “I sized it from.. the little ring you gave me. Well actually, you left it over once, but-“

Drayton isn’t listening. He’s staring, fascinated, at the square cut stone inlaid in thin braided silver. “I’m keepin’ this. You realize that.”

“Yessir.” Lefty just chuckles at him.

Makes Drayton suddenly feel vulnerable, like Lefty’s got some kind of power over him he should know about, “And you’re alright with it? Bein’ promised to a.. a-“

A gentle hand on both his arms, Lefty stops him there, “Don’t say whatever you’re about to say. It wa’nt gonna be nice. I don’t want you talkin’ that way.”

“I’ll talk as I please.”

“It’ll be hard enough without you bein’ against your own self. Don’t do that. If I love you, and you love yourself, and you love me, then we can’t go wrong.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Lefty sighs, frustrated with his stubbornness after dealing with it so much, and rubs at his eyes, “Drayton.”

“What?” Drayton asks too quickly. Here it comes lord. Everything before now was the calm before the storm.

Except, he should know better. Lefty was getting irritated with the arguin’, sure, but all he’s got to inform him of is “Nothin’. I just like sayin’ it.”

Drayton huffs, the tiniest hint of playfulness showing through after the innocent misunderstanding, “Well that’s enough. You’re wearing it out already.”

“Mhm.” Lefty hums.

Still close, Lefty presses a delicate kiss to Drayton’s forehead, noticing, with his hand placed in his hair, a pin holding the style up. Unexpectedly, he removes it, letting medium length waves, dark as the midnight sky, topple everywhere.

For Drayton, being seen with his hair down might as well be like going in public in just his britches or less. His face is probably doubly as bright red as before.

Lefty just wanted a look, a question on his mind, “How short you thinkin’?”

“I want it all off. Clipped short as you can get it without bein’ a flattop.” Drayton admits.

Lefty seems to consider it, maybe imagining what his partner will look like that way, before he affirms, “I can do that. How ‘bout a change of clothes too? The hair, I don’t think it’ll match this stuffy old dress, hm?”

Drayton vaguely motions to his chest, the very obvious difference between their shirt sizes in that area, “I won’t fit in your clothes.”

“Sure, not yet. We’ll figure somethin’ out though. You gotta give this time.” Something tells him Lefty ain’t just talking about chest tape. Definitely not when he says dreamily, “Afterall, we got all of it in the damn world.”

“If you’re trickin’ me-“ Drayton starts, eyes narrowed.

But Lefty is quicker, “I’m not. I love you, Drayton Sawyer.”

“Fine. But you’re not gettin’ no love ‘til I’m sure you mean it.” See, that’s partly a lie, because as soon as he says it he kisses him. What he really means is he’s not puttin’ out, which they already agreed upon, and that he’s too overwhelmed with all the other things goin’ on to say the words. Love. But he’ll show it, even if he can’t say it back. He’ll hold out his hand and comment, “‘Preciate the ring. Jus’ don’t make me mad or I’ll hock it in an instant.”

“You wouldn’t... Would ya?” Lefty eyes him skeptically.

Some reason, Drayton just howls with laughter, “Awh, hell no. You keepin’ me, ‘n I’m keepin’ this ring.”

“It suits you.”

“Hey. Wait ‘til you see it with the real me.”

“Sure, sure. But I gotta feeling I’m gonna like it either way.”

That boy is helplessly, head over heels, throw all common sense out the window in love.

Drayton teases him about it a bit, “Funny. I got that feelin’ too, lover boy.”

Lefty eventually takes him home to sleep off the alcohol around two or three in the morning, but sure as sin the next day they’re gettin’ Drayton gussied up to look like himself. The Enright’s bathroom’s a right mess, but it’s worth it, to see a genuine Drayton Sawyer smile. Showing buck-teeth and all, not some bashful little thing.

The fears they had was true. Once word got out, Ma and Pa Enright forbade, strictly outlawed, really, that the boys even see one another, unless it was for business. Trading meat and produce and such. Lucky for them, nobody ever caught on they was lying about how often those trading expeditions was needed.

That and nobody knew their spot. Follow the creek down from the watering hole long enough, and you’d find the far away clearing they’d had that date in. Every week, sometimes several times, they’d both sneak out of their respective homes and head out that way. But nobody never did follow. Moonlight as their guide, they were untouchable. For years they was.

Still no official wedding in sight, it’d be nearly twice the time since they got together come the end of that year. Almost a decade, they decided, was enough time that they might as well be unionized by somethin’.

The body, the the blood, the soul. Man lyin’ with man, and all that. Drayton would call it plainly what it is without reserve, but Lefty doesn’t have it in him to admit he’s planning a sin.

Especially with a man who at least is starting to be recognized as such now ‘at the Muerto County population’s shifting a little younger, a little less familiar with the person Drayton used to be. Neighborhood kids move away, families sell their farms, bosses die in equipment accidents, and suddenly every day isn’t quite as unsure, and the townsfolk are calling him by his chosen name.

Blame all that for the lapse in judgment that gets Drayton lyin’ on his back when Mama goes outta town, Grandpa gets called in, and suddenly they got the house to themselves.

“Slow your roll, cowboy. Jesus...”

“I-Is that s’posed to happen?”

“Alright, get the hell off and let me do this-“

How was either of them s’pose to know that one time was all it took! They was set up to fail!

Looking back now, as soon as it was over he thinks he knew. Paranoia or not, he’d felt somethin’ that night, and now goddamit he’s three months along. Half the time as Mama. A whole third of the way through.

Damn it all to hell.

They’re going to have a baby. Drayton’s gonna be sick-

[normal-thoughts-official]

Putting all my CoP II theories out there before we find out who the killer is tomorrow: a post

So I'm gonna start this by saying that I don't have a definitive theory I'm putting all my money on, this is more a collection of thoughts/leads/evidence as someone who's replayed every chapter as many times as it took to see what happened when you picked each option, and who's really invested in this

First things first: I'm not operating on the assumption that Juliana's killer is necessarily the same one who killed Nadja and Sebastyan, because we have no definitive proof of that and the more I think about it the more I think it makes more sense for them to be different people. I'm also including my theories on the whole Trystan trial thing, which they really should have looked into more deeply from the start to begin with, but anyway

1. Involved Siblings

At this point, I think it's pretty obvious that the only eligible suspects for either of the murders are Lydea, Vasili, Astrid, and the twins. The first three lied about their alibis, and the twins don't have one to begin with. All of them except for Lydea we know for a fact were in the palace by the time of Nadja's murder, and we have no idea where Lydea was. All of them, obviously, had access to the secret passage and the Thorne daggers; Astrid even has a convenient excuse for not having hers (she said she lost it in Tajikistan), but even if it isn't her, it is possible that she didn't lose her dagger but instead had it stolen by one of the other siblings, and doesn't know about it. In that case, I find it worth noting that Lydea is the only one who went out of her way to show that she still has her own dagger, and Vasili wouldn't have been expected to have one anyway; if he's the killer, using it might even be a good move to point the evidence away from him

Finally, we know for a fact that the first three were aware of the location of the cameras in the opera house, and, while we don't know for a fact that the twins do as well, we do know that Emika is perfectly capable of getting inside the surveillance system and get that information should they want to. Last but not least, those are the siblings we always have a chance of watching/asking about, which I think is worth noting. Finally, none of them save for the twins has been the object of a thorough investigation. Also, in the case of Juliana's murder, I think it's safe to say anyone younger than them would have been too young to have dated Juliana OR overpowered her so easily; Marguerite was a minor, and, while we're not sure Patryk was a minor, he was definitely built like a twig at the time, considering that he still is. Plus, by the time Juliana was a teenager, they were both definitely children

With that being said, I think it's safe to rule out the twins in general as well; Kaspar can't have been Nadja's murderer because we know that the murderer escaped through the secret passage, but Kaspar walked straight out of the room holding a bloody garrote like an idiot. He's also generally not smart enough to pull any of this off. And Emika does have an alibi, since we know that they were replying to randos on Twitter by the time of Nadja's murder. Not being Nadja's murderer rules out being Sebastyan's because those were definitely committed by the same person, and they have no motive to kill any of the people involved. I could maybe see Emika killing Juliana if Kaspar was the ex, because they are that insane (the incident with Astrid's ex shows that), but everything so far points to the killer and the ex being the same person. Also, if Kaspar had been Juliana's ex, Emika would never have given Trystan and MC the information about the letters, because it'd give them even more reason to suspect the two of them

That leaves Vasili, Lydea, and Astrid as elligible suspects. I'd like to point out, as a final comment, that Astrid and Vasili both knew that Juliana and Trystan were going to be on the boat the night she was murdered, and that they would be alone, something the killer would obviously have to know in order to kill Juliana. We don't know whether or not Lydea had that information but I don't think it'd have been too hard for her to get that info from the other two, especially considering that Vasili didn't even really want to cover for Trystan anyway and him and Lydea had a good relationship

2. Other possibilities

Other than the siblings, I see two other possibilities for people who could be involved: one of the monarchs, or a 10th sibling who's the illegitimate heir and going on a rampage about it, Veil of Secrets style

3. Juliana's murder

I think it's safe to rule out one of the monarchs being Juliana's ex, because what the fuck, and if the 10th sibling theory is real then Juliana wouldn't have known that whoever she was dating was a Thorne, since she didn't know who the illegitimate child was. That means Juliana's murderer was definitely one of the Three Elligible Siblings. Technically it could still be Sebastyan, but considering his "you've broken my heart every day of my life" line I think evidence points to him having pined desperately for her and not being requited

(Plus, killing her would have been a stupid move for the Act for Heir Equity since he needed her for public support, and the "he killed her out of anger for turning her back on the Act" theory doesn't really hold much water considering he was the one who wanted them to take a break. The e-mail Juliana sent him talking about Trystan also proves that he wasn't the ex, since it was just a few weeks after her angry letter to whoever it was that she hated so much; if the letter had been addressed to Sebastyan, why would she be trading happy e-mails with him gushing about her new love? We know for a fact that they were still on good terms by the time she was writing her ex angry letters; it wouldn't make sense for it to have been him

I see no reason whatsoever why Sebastyan couldn't have just stolen the locket from whoever the ex was because he is creepy about the women he likes [see: the sexy pictures of his ex in his goddamn office]. That would even give them extra motive to kill him, because if Sebastyan took the locket from them, it means he knew who the ex was)

So, we're back to where we begun: Lydea, Astrid, or Vasili. Here's the case for each of them being the ex:

Lydea: frankly, I can't see Lydea being the ex. The image of a jealous possessive person killing someone out of spite, stalking someone, and etc. does not fit her profile at all. Lydea keeps her temper in check no matter what and clearly has a pretty strong sense of honor and duty; and we know that that has been the case since she was a child. The only evidence in favor of Lydea I can think of is that the murderer was wearing the Drakovian Police cloak, but that's just a generic grey cloak anyway; and the fact that she recognized Juliana's locket so quickly, which strikes me as a bit odd for someone who didn't even know her that well, but it isn't exactly hard to believe that she recognized it simply because she's observant and saw Juliana a lot ever since they were kids. She is also too smart to have done such a shit job of burning her letters to her. All in all, she sounds like the least likely candidate

Vasili: the case for Vasili is a bit more substantial, but barely. It's pretty clear that Vasili has a lot more resentment towards Trystan than he lets on, and about his position in the family in general, which is why I think so many people are so deadset on BlameVasili2023. So I could see him being the kind of person who's a creepy bitter stalker without most people expecting it. But Juliana described her ex as being charming, and Vasili barely has any real presence; he seems more neutral than "charming" to me. He also just doesn't sound and act at all like the person we saw in that murder flashback. That means that we have two options here: either Vasili is secretly way more theatrical and sadistic than he lets on, and he's a master manipulator about it, in which case I think he would be able to keep his temper in check long enough to realize that killing Juliana would pretty much ruin any chance of getting the Act to pass; or he isn't all that calculating and good at holding back his temper, in which case I think we would have seen more signs of this incredibly possessive person

It's not impossible, however, especially considering that he knew where Trystan and Juliana would be, and had reasons to be particularly frustrated at her, not only for choosing Trystan but also for leaving Marguerite during her show. It would have been a pretty powerful combination: seeing Juliana with his own sibling, who is also the heir to a throne he will never get, and who is also leaving your little sister that you really care about in a moment that is important to her. Not to mention that she had taken a step back on getting the Act passed. The fact that Trystan is Marguerite's favorite despite all that is just rubbing salt to the wound, too. All in all, pretty decent motive, and we know his temper runs deeper than he lets on, even if he doesn't exactly fit Juliana's killer's profile. Considering his closeness to Bas, it also stands to reason that Bas would know about his relationship with Juliana through him, and resent him less for it than Trystan because he likes Vasili, at least. Vasili is also the only one I can think of that would make sense to say "but I finally found a way we can have everything we always wanted" to Juliana; if the plan had been to get rid of Trystan and get the Act to pass, that would make Vasili the heir, which I assume is something they fantasized about back when they were together. But killing Juliana got in the way of getting the Act to pass, and if Vasili was willing to kill to get it passed, why would he have sat on his ass and done nothing for 8 whole years after that, when the Act was tabled?

Astrid: I think Astrid is definitely the likeliest candidate out of the three. She fits the profile for the killer really well: seeming charming and nice at first (we know how good at manipulating she is, and she can seduce pretty much whoever she wants and definitely has a lot of friends), but really passionate and quick to anger. Trystan even said that the only thing Astrid likes more than falling in love is being angry, and she can definitely hold a grudge and seems vengeful. Juliana's murder was also very personal in general, not to mention theatrical; the bird whistle, the dramatic convo, the super personal murder method (blunt force trauma is pretty passionate, and we know they strangled her, too, which is pretty much the most intimate murder method there is), the relative sloppiness of it. This wasn't the perfect airtight murder plan Lydea would have come up with; so many things could have gone wrong, starting with Trystan waking up from all the drama. And it seems a bit too intense and not calculated enough for Vasili. But Astrid "tantrum" Thorne would definitely have murdered someone exactly how Juliana's murderer did. Plus, she also knew where Trystan and Juliana would be. The only point against her would be that it would have been a little less likely for Bas to know about their relationship, but she could have heard about it from Juliana herself, since they were friends. And I can't really see why she would choose that specific day to kill her, as opposed to any other time, but it could be related to the fact that Juliana was looking into the illegitimate heir. I also think it's worth noting that Astrid was the only one out of the three that had sent letters to Juliana when Trystan and MC went through the stack. Which sounded odd to me, since it was never mentioned that they were particularly close

4. Trystan's trial

I have no doubt in my mind that the one who sent the evidence to the Georgescus, bought off Trystan's lawyer, got the original audio of the "confession" edited, and etc etc etc was Queen Viktoria. We know it had to have been one of the monarchs, since in the book 1 bonus scene we see a Drakovian agent talking to a "Your Majesty" about framing Trystan. And Maksim has no motive whatsoever to want to get rid of Trystan, but boy, does Viktoria

Motive #1: we know for a fact that Queen Viktoria is the de factum leader of Drakovia. Maksim is barely there, and he was only even implied to have participated in official State matters on Trystan's first day back as heir. The whole rest of the time, it was Queen Viktoria and Queen Viktoria only who was calling the shots. She was even the one to preside Trystan's trial and announce Sebastyan's death despite the fact that he's not even her son. And we know from Eveline that Viktoria wanted to be Queen, which is why their arrangement works to begin with. So, Viktoria wants power. She wants to remain in control of the crown, which she will have to relinquish soon once Maksim turns 65. With Lydea as the heir, even if Viktoria handn't been the ruler by name she would definitely be the ruler in practice, because Lydea follows her every order without questioning. Lydea was her favorite, she was disciplined, she was obedient, she was a perfect fit. Trystan, in contrast, had always been a wild card and never seen eye to eye with Viktoria. And no matter what the official Thorne narrative about Trystan is, we know for a fact that Trystan cares. They do have a strong sense of responsibility - to Drakovia, to the people they love, to what they think is right, to people they barely know who got murdered and deserve justice. And we know their politics are progressive; they have talked about misogyny and social inequality and all the laws in Drakovia that they wanted to change, and I have no doubt that they care enough to go through with this. Trystan, as an heir, is Viktoria's worst nightmare, because they're disobedient and have the will and sense of responsibility to see through getting all the reforms Viktoria doesn't want to pass. There is nothing Viktoria wants more than to get rid of them and make sure Lydea inherits the throne instead

Motive #2: She has an illegitimate child. Duh. And we know from that bonus scene conversation that the main reason they wanted to get rid of Trystan is that they knew too much. I can't see anything important enough for Trystan to be able to discover other than Viktoria's illegitimate child. Considering how it is probably close to Juliana's murder, and Trystan was starting to revisit what happened then, it stands to reason that they would be worried about Trystan discovering who she was. Hence the need to neutralize them before Maksim had to relinquish the throne. Which can only mean one thing:

5. The illegitimate child

It has to be Lydea. It would make no sense otherwise

Viktoria has nearly no stakes in making sure no one knows Astrid is illegitimate. Who cares? Illegitimate children are already accepted in Drakovia, and Astrid is the third in line, so, barring Lydea's sudden death, she wouldn't even inherit the throne. And there's no way Viktoria would want her to. Astrid might be the only possible heir that would give Viktoria more grief than Trystan, because she has all the same qualities of being unpredictable and hard to control, without Trystan's sense of responsibility, which makes her harder to manipulate. Plus, she has ties to the mafia, which makes that particular power struggle much harder. If Astrid was the illegitimate child, I think Viktoria would probably shout it from the rooftops to make sure she never lives the nightmare of having Astrid inherit the throne, not go out of her way to make sure Trystan wouldn't be able to hypothetically look into it and find out about it

If it's Lydea, though? Viktoria is fucked. Lydea wouldn't be able to take the throne, which would leave either Trystan or Astrid. Unless the Act for Heir Equity passes, but if it does, Vasili will take the throne, not Lydea. And Vasili has no loyalty whatsoever to Viktoria; he's not even her son. Way I see it, Viktoria's most important interest at the moment is making sure Lydea inherits the throne; that means making sure no one finds out she's illegitimate and that the Act for Heir Equity doesn't pass. That's the only thing that gives her the motive to want to get rid of Trystan, and, possibly, to want to murder Nadja and Sebastyan

6. The current killer

If I'm right about Lydea being the illegitimate child, then what makes the most sense is for the killer to be under Viktoria's orders

I don't think Lydea would kill to make sure no one found out she was the illegitimate child; she doesn't even want the throne. And no one else has any stakes on making sure people don't find out about that. The existence of the illegitimate child has to be important, plot-wise. If it was simply about the Act, there would be no reason for that particular plotline. Plus, as pointed out relentlessly this week's chapter, the Act wasn't going to pass anyway. Whoever the killer is, stopping the Act alone can't be their only motive. But if this is about protecting the secret of the illegitimate heir? Then killing everyone connected to the Act, who also just so happen to have the means to find out about the illegitimate person, is killing two birds with one stone. Plus, Viktoria hates Sebastyan. She even calls him a "stain on the family" if you choose to tell her that she's grieving him. Were it not for the fact that we know from the flashback that Juliana was murdered by her ex, I'd even say that she probably killed all of them: Juliana to get rid of the Act for good, frame Trystan, get rid of a possible future queen with progressive politics, and stop her from looking further into the illegitimate child; Nadja and Sebastyan to make sure the following attempts to get the Act passed (and subsequent looking into the royal line like Juliana did) won't take off

Now. I find it unlikely that Viktoria would kill Nadja and Sebastyan herself, even if she is strong enough for it. If anything, because she can outsource that work, so why wouldn't she? And I don't think she'd want to risk being any closer to any of this than she needs to. Also, I don't think Sebastyan would turn his back to her. Which means she would need to get someone else to do it

I'd love for it to be Lydea, because that'd make a fantastic twist. The killer is the most obvious one, but for the complete opposite reasons than you'd think. It'd also explain Lydea wanting to hide the body, the identation from her ring on Sebastyan's neck (although, really, girl, take the stupid thing off), the remorseful act of placing Sebastyan in a more dignified pose, why Lydea lied about her alibi (twice), why Sebastyan would have turned his back to the killer, the strength and finesse the killer obviously possesses. With Nadja's murder, there was the sloppy attempt to frame Trystan, but there could be an easy explanation for that, which is that she didn't expect Kaspar to fucking show up to steal Trystan's shit. That'd mean she'd have to leave the scene before finishing the job of faking the stab wounds, leaving a sloppier job than usual

Buuut... That doesn't quite fit. For starters, if Viktoria had gotten Lydea to do the kills, why would she take Lydea off the investigation? It'd make much more sense to make her the investigator and lie about it. Plus, Lydea seemed genuinely surprised to see Sebastyan dead, and she seems genuinely invested in finding out who killed him. And if she had killed him under Viktoria's orders in order to protect the secret that she was the illegitimate heir, why would she tell Trystan and MC about the illegitimate child at all?

Even if Viktoria didn't tell her about that (which I don't think she would, because Lydea seems the type to immediately abdicate if she had known her claim wasn't legitimate), that would mean that Lydea really was in Sebastyan's house at the time of the murder, otherwise she wouldn't have gotten that information to begin with. And if Viktoria herself told her about it, why the hell would she want Lydea to share that information? And there is absolutely no way Lydea would have shared it without Viktoria's consent. National security matter and all that shit

So here's my favorite theory as to who she outsourced the job to: Colette

Colette was trailing Sebastyan, so she knew exactly when Sebastyan would be alone and MC and Trystan were conveniently out of the way. Easy enough then to leave the scene later and go after them tearfully telling them that she lost sight of him. In fact, trailing him gives her a wonderful excuse for any evidence they could find against her, since she had a perfectly valid reason to have been following him. We already know that her main allegiance is to the crown; that means Viktoria. And she, apparently, fucking guards the security cameras in the palace alone, so she was probably at the palace, and that'd explain how she didn't see shit about the murder in the surveillance feed. And, of course, Colette has the same training Lydea does, which means she's just as capable of getting the job done cleanly

She's not a Thorne (unless there really is a 10th sibling and it happens to be her), but she wouldn't have to be if she were under Viktoria's orders. Viktoria is too practical to give a shit about giving Colette a Thorne dagger if it were for the greater good or whatever. And let's be real, of course Viktoria knows about the stupid secret passage and its codes. If anything because Trystan probably used to hide in there to avoid their tutors and Lydea would absolutely snitch their room's code if Viktoria asked

But my favorite part of it is that Colette would probably also have her own ulterior motives: namely, getting rid of Lydea

Trystan's return meant that Lydea was no longer heir, which in turn meant that she could take the Captain of the Royal Guard title again. I'm not sure if she was Captain while Trystan was gone, but even if she was, when she took the throne that spot would be vacant again. And considering how closely to the palace Colette works, and how much Lydea trusts her, I think it's likely that Colette would take that spot once Lydea took the throne

It is in both Viktoria's and Colette's best interests that Lydea takes the throne, for different reasons, which means that them working together would have made a lot of sense. And the fact that their motives are different could explain some of the inconsistencies, such as the ring indentation. There's no way whoever the killer is is stupid enough to fucking leave this massive chunky ring on when going out to murder someone, especially considering they'd have put latex gloves on and getting those around a ring that big would be a fucking nightmare. Are these bitches uncapable of taking off a ring? Come on. Please don't insult my intelligence here. But Colette could have put that on with the specific intent to frame Lydea - who wears the ring on her left hand - if she believed that it would be easier to just let her take the fall for the murders than to try and get her to take the throne again. It'd also explain her going behind Lydea's back to give us info. I can also buy Colette rearranging Sebastyan's body out of respect - he was a member of the royal family, after all

The Thorne dagger could be to put us on a wild goose chase after one of the siblings and point us away from Colette/Viktoria. And Juliana's murder would probably be unrelated, which I actually believe it is, because the M.O is completely different. Juliana's murder was obviously a crime of passion (pardon the pun), even if a planned one, while the others were clearly strategic murders. If it's the same person who committed them, then they did it for different reasons

If Viktoria is behind the murders, it'd also explain her handing over the investigation to MC and not Lydea. I have to assume she thought we weren't as competent as Lydea, especially if we were working with Trystan, whom the entire family consistently underestimates. Getting Lydea away from the investigation might have been her way of making sure no one found out. Which obviously backfired, so she needed to change gears, especially if she knew how close MC and Trystan were to uncovering the truth behind Juliana

It's not airtight, but it'd make for an interesting story in my opinion. My main issue with this theory is that, if Viktoria wanted to get rid of Trystan ASAP, why would she have Nadja be murderer on a day when she knew for a fact Trystan had an alibi? Sure, the alibi was herself, which is convenient, but Maksim was also there, and Maksim likes Trystan. They did separate from them a few (minutes?) before the murder, so maybe she was planning to use that window to frame Trystan and wasn't expecting them to have been with MC when they found the body, ruining the "Trystan did it" theory. It could be that she's been scrambling after that, waiting for a good opportunity to get rid of Trystan (again), and she kept MC around because, since they became an unwanted witness, she needed to keep an eye on them, and there's no better way to do that than making sure they report to her

But there are other theories that I think could be interesting/make sense:

ASTRID

Astrid's been my main suspect for most of the book now, both because of the Juliana reasons mentioned ago and because she seems to always be conveniently there to derail the investigation whenever it goes a certain reason. She was the one who pointed us towards Sebastyan; she was the one who was around when we were talking to Olivia; she was the one trying to deflect and/or start drama among her other siblings whenever we were around trying to interrogate them. But now I have a few issues with my own theory:

1- Astrid doesn't give enough of a shit about Sebastyan to rearrange his body

2- Astrid is way too passionate to make such clean murders, especially Sebastyan's; I also don't think Nadja or Bas were close enough to her to be completely caught off guard by her attack the way the scene implied them to be. And if I'm right about Astrid having murdered Juliana, the differences in M.O would point to her not having murdered Nadja and Bas

3- I can't see a convincing motive

Say Astrid is the illegitimate child. I really don't see why she would be willing to kill to keep that information a secret. Maybe if she actually wanted the throne, but let's be serious: why the fuck would she? As is, Astrid has her perfect life. She has all the privilege with none of the responsibilities, and she can more or less do whatever she wants. She's not even interested in having a short talk with her entire family, nevermind spend most of her days in boring as fuck meetings with foreign dignataries having to make a bunch of decisions and fight her mom over it. Astrid doesn't want the throne, she wants to be at brunch in Barcelona with the girlies

My best guess for this one would be that she wanted to keep her status as a legitimate heir; that could track. Status is everything in Astrid's world, and even if becoming illegitimate would still mean she had the same money and privilege, it would kind of be a scandal that would damage her reputation. Maybe she killed Juliana for passion reasons and then found out about her own illegitimacy because of her, then she killed Nadja and Sebastyan to keep that secret when it looked like they would be poking into that information. It does make sense, and accounts for just about everything we've seen in her behavior

I have three issues with this theory: the first is that it's the most boring answer. The second is that I still don't think she is strong or clean enough to commit these murders, or to rearrange Sebastyan's body. The third is that, if Astrid is illegitimate, then I have no fucking clue why anyone in the family would have wanted to summon Trystan so close to Lydea's coronation

Astrid wasn't the one to get the evidence out there, because this was clearly ordered by one of the monarchs, unless Choices forgot that you don't use "your majesty" to refer to princes and princesses. If they did... Then fine, I guess, maybe she could have wanted to make sure Trystan wouldn't go poking around and find out about her, but I don't really see why she would bother with doing that considering that Trystan wasn't even in Drakovia to begin with. If all she wanted was to keep her illegitimacy a secret, then she already had everything sorted out; bringing Trystan back and reopening that whole wound sounds counterproductive

Unless I'm wrong and Astrid does want the throne, for reasons that I really cannot fathom. Then it could be that they called her "your majesty" because this is all part of a huge conspiracy to get her to the throne. I'm still not sure why she would summon Trystan back, but it does sort of explain the inconsistencies in both Nadja's and Sebastyan's murders. Because she could also be trying to frame Lydea. If she did, she could get rid of Trystan (out of psychological pressure, if nothing else) and Lydea if Lydea took the blame for the murders. It would explain the ring indentation on Sebastyan's neck and even the body rearranging if her plan was to point the investigation towards people who actually liked Sebastyan. She doesn't even have to have committed the murders herself, she could have hired someone and given them instructions. But Astrid hasn't really been gunning to turn the investigation towards Lydea; the one she kept pushing into our path was Sebastyan. Also, again, it's just sort of boring

And if it was really Queen Viktoria who tried to frame Trystan in the trial, which I really think is the most logical explanation, then I don't see why she would go through such lengths to protect Astrid's legitimate status. If it's Lydea, then yeah, she'd want to make sure nothing could get in the way of her coronation. But I can't see her going that far to hide Astrid's secret. Again: who cares? She's not even a viable option for the throne currently, and it's not like having bastard children is a massive scandal in Drakovia

If Astrid isn't the illegitimate child and it's Lydea instead... Then I see no motive whatsoever for her to murder Sebastyan and Nadja. Unless, of course, she does want the throne and thought it'd be a good opportunity to frame Lydea and get rid of Trystan. In that case, Juliana's murder, Trystan's summoning, and the subsequent murders are actually kind of unrelated. Which makes sense because there is so many levels of 5D chess going on here. Goddamn it, that works. Fine

But it could be simply that she killed Juliana, has nothing to do with the current murders, but has been hovering around the investigation to make sure we don't find out about Juliana. That would explain why she keeps trying to make us look into Sebastyan; if we believe that he was the ex, then her secret is safe. I think I kind of prefer that one, but I guess it could go either way

VASILI

The main points in favor of BlameVasili2023 are:

Both the ring and the dagger point to a legitimate Thorne being the culprit, and are really dumb moves, so they could have been Vasili's attempt to make sure he wouldn't be a main suspect

He has the most obvious reason to rearrange Sebastyan's body

He definitely seems strong enough to have committed the murders, and clean enough without being as perfect as Lydea to have been pretty good but still leave some clues

This one is lame, but in this week's chapter, if you choose to watch the twins or Astrid, you get +Detective if you guess at the reasons that imply they didn't do it; but if you choose to watch Vasili, you get +Detective if you wonder what could have made him hurt Sebastyan. I'd like to think Choices isn't shortsighted enough to leave such an obvious clue, but they did spoil the story twice in the chapter summaries, so

There is obviously more to him than meets the eye, and I wouldn't be surprised at all if he had some big dark secret. I do think he hates Trystan, or at least resents them deeply. Enough to want them away from the throne, even if he doesn't inherit it; at least Lydea is someone he respects

The main points against Vasili are:

WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MOTIVE

I could maybe see him killing Sebastyan to do that whole weird "vote for the Act to honor my little brother uwu" shit, but it sounds like a bit of an extreme move when getting rid of Markarov would have worked just as well without killing his own little brother. And if killing Sebastyan sounds like a stretch, then I really see no reason whatsoever for killing Nadja. If Vasili wants the throne, then Nadja working on the Act again was his best bet of getting that to happen; and he could have gotten rid of Trystan after that. It would have been more efficient than killing her, actually. Unless he already had his own plans to get the throne once Lydea became queen, and Trystan being back put those in jeopardy, so he impulsively killed her in an attempt to frame Trystan again. But Sebastyan's murder didn't point to Trystan being the culprit in any way; Vasili would have known by now that Trystan would have been with MC the whole time, thus having an alibi

Unless, of course, Vasili is Juliana's ex, and he killed Sebastyan to protect that secret. Or even to protect that he killed Nadja. But I struggle to see why Sebastyan would snitch on Vasili when he worshipped the ground Vasili walked on to begin with. Maybe it could be that Sebastyan couldn't actually forgive him for killing the woman he loved, or that he had a problem with killing Nadja to get their own goals; but Sebastyan isn't really above playing dirty, as we damn well know. And if it's about Juliana, why wait until now to say something?

Best possibility I can think of right now is that Sebastyan only found out recently that Vasili was Juliana's ex, which was when he discovered the locket in Vasili's things somehow. It would explain why he had it with him without being the ex himself. And if Sebastyan really loved Juliana as much as he was implied to, then that might just be the thing that would get him to turn on Vasili. So Vasili could have killed Juliana out of anger and spite, Nadja to try to get rid of Trystan, and Sebastyan to protect his secret after the aforementioned murders. It would explain the remorse, because he did love Sebastyan, and why he would feel like he had no other reason. And the queen summoning Trystan would be unrelated to that; it just forced his hand in the Nadja murder because he wanted to get rid of Trystan ASAP. It was even Vasili's idea to get Marguerite to have her fashion show, so he could have planned to kill him there all along

God damn it, that's actually kind of airtight. Fuck. I'm gonna be so mad if Vasili did it. I've been saying that I didn't see it for weeks and now suddenly he sounds like a prime suspect. God fucking damn it, fuck

I will however say that I still don't think Vasili fits the profile for Juliana's murder, and if he isn't Juliana's murderer, then he has no reason to kill Sebastyan. Even if Vasili killed Nadja for unrelated reasons, I don't think Sebastyan liked her enough to snitch on him; we already know Sebastyan isn't above a little political murder. So I guess I'm still filing that theory as not the most likely

LYDEA

Best guess for Lydea that isn't that she was under Viktoria's orders is that she does want the throne and lied about it. Not impossible, but I have believed that Lydea never wanted the throne from the start; it's pretty obvious that being Captain is what she enjoys. If she is the illegitimate child, then she could be killing to protect that secret. But then why would she tell MC and Trystan that there was one? As a last ditch attempt to turn them on Astrid, maybe, but that'd be really sloppy. Especially since she didn't have to tell them that the killer was female. She could have pointed them to any one of the siblings she wanted, so why Astrid, whom they never really considered?

Or it could be that it was never about the throne, but to protect Juliana's secret. Anyone looking into the Act would be looking into Juliana's death, and that might point them towards her. But again, I think Lydea is the least likely to be Juliana's ex. If she is, then this whole thing was made on impulse, in a sloppy way (using the Thorne dagger and keeping the ring on, really?) and without much care of the consequences, which is out of character for Lydea. Unless she has a way more impulsive and passionate streak than she lets on, which was what Juliana meant in that letter when she said that they wouldn't expect her to be so creepy and possessive. But it's kind of difficult to hide that you're that impulsive, and I just struggle to buy it for Lydea. Not impossible, though, and character consistency isn't Choices' strongest suit, so I guess that theory is on the run as well

THE 10TH SIBLING

This theory is more crack than anything, not to mention it's basically just Veil of Secrets 2.0, but I don't think one could accuse Choices of being incredibly original. If there is a 10th sibling, my favorite bet is that it's the queen's royal advisor. I could see how being put in that position, ignored by all the other siblings, in a position of subservience, etc etc, would make someone bitter enough to go on a killing rampage. Die hate cry. But if it is the 10th sibling, I think that Choices is gonna pull a "the motive is something we could not have possibly guessed at until the exact moment it is revealed to us out of nowhere" yet again, and I really hope they don't do that, because it's lazy and annoying and disappointing. I can't really see any coherent motive for the 10th sibling right now, since there are many holes in that theory:

Why would she get in the way of the Act for Heir Equity, which would basically put her in equal footing with the others?

Why now, and why these particular victims in this particular way?

Why did Viktoria hide the existence of her when the entire country knows Maksim has three entire illegitimate children? Unless she is older than Trystan (which the advisor seems to be. Also, she has no last name, just saying) and it would be particularly problematic for the firstborn to be a bastard, but sounds kind of like a stretch

There is no clear reason why that would in any way tie with Juliana's murder, which would be pretty disappointing and lazy of them

My best guess: the 10th sibling/royal advisor has been planning to take the throne this whole time, and getting Trystan back was the first step to that plan. She was the one who brought him back, and her lackey called her "your majesty" because they are part of a conspiracy to get her the throne. The plan was always to bring Juliana's murder back to light so they would find out there was an illegitimate child who would inherit the throne. And maybe that could rekindle the interest in the Act for Heir Equity, which had been well and truly dead at that point. But if that's the case, I don't see how killing Nadja and Sebastyan would in any way contribute to that. I could, however, see why she would show remorse over killing Sebastyan; he was, after all, the one closest to her position as a fellow bastard who wanted to change things. All in all, this is the theory that would require us to miss the most pieces of the puzzle, and would mean a lot of the information we got on the other siblings is just pointless. Which, let's be honest, is consistent with how they played Book 1, but I want to believe that this mystery is more interesting than that and the Thorne's involvement is more substantial

In conclusion

I need psychological intervention and the next chapters cannot come out fast enough

If you've read it this far, thank you! If you want to discuss theories, feel free to reblog, reply, or shoot an ask or DM

[x-junwrites-x]

EW AU: Into the Forest of the Beasts

Warlock!Tord and Explorer!Reader Drabble

Tw: none

Tord shook the leaves from his head, trampling over the brush further and further as his legs began to complain about the long journey he’s taken so far. The burning itch inside him to move, to do something, was making him restless the longer he had stayed in his alcove. That was a few days ago, and although he would feel pent up inside his home, it would be a nice respite after having wandered the forests for the amount of time he did. He felt a growl crawling through his chest, an ironclad fist curling along the edges of his feathered cloak before pounding on his chest to fizzle out the noise before it reached his lips. When Edd had told him about the human traipsing along the forest, it had stirred up some long seated hatred for their kind that he thought had been stifled ages ago. He was ancient, for eldritch’s sake. Living this long, he had been able to see many civilizations come and go, usually at the bloodied hand of someone else. It was one of the many weak characteristics of humanity. He felt his lips twitch.

 The way he felt about the news of this human made his heart hammer in his chest as anger filled his lungs with every seething breath he took. Tord shook his head to get rid of the brewing dark thoughts of carnage made of the dark beast clawing inside him. It had been far too long battling his inner fiend and now was probably the worst time to be feeling all this negativity.

He stepped over a few more fallen logs, the wood far into the process of decay as fungus grew over the ridged edges of the bark. It looked the way he felt. With a sigh, he reached down into his belt, feeling around for a second against the cold glass of his elixirs before pulling a bottle filled with dark blue liquid. It slid around like coagulated blood, its viscosity making his stomach churn for a second before popping the cork and tipping his head back. He had taken the same potion many times at this point, but the feeling was always the same no matter how many times he had consumed it. His vision wavered before pinching in on itself as his heart rate spiked in his chest. His throat closed up involuntarily, trying not to gag as the sludge-like liquid went down his throat like those awful human medicines that villagers tried giving him many years ago when they had found him washed up on their shores. He was a mere boy at the time, not knowing that life would lead him down some dark paths the longer he had stayed in the realm of the humans that poked and prodded at his pointed ears and too-sharp teeth. 

Tord shook the feeling off, fluffing up his feathered cloak with a huff as he continued onto the only place he could call his home. The alcove was just a few yards away, the welcoming sight of his abode made his sore feet sing at the thought of comfortably settling back down in his bed. Just as he made it to the clearing in front of the craggy outcropping, the amateur snapping of a twig caught his attention. The warlock felt a headache coming on already at the prospect of his cloven friend asking where he was for the past few days. An excuse was on his lips as he turned to the noise, fully expecting to see Edd trudging through the foliage towards him until he laid eyes on the small creature staring back at him with widened eyes.

Tord choked on his words, feeling his breath catch in his chest at the sight of the human that stood stock-still. They visibly trembled under his stare, the warlock’s piercing gaze staring straight into their soul as they took hurried steps back. Tord instantly snapped out of his stupor, finding a growl sizzling from the pit of his chest as he moved towards the human. His clawed hand reached out to grab their arm before they could flinch. To his surprise, the human yelped and started kicking up a storm as he got near them.

“Stay away from me!” The human screeched, voice ratcheting up as they began throwing random things out of the pack they had slung over their frame. Tord’s ear twitched as the voice grated in his ears. He pulled back slightly, narrowly avoiding being hit with another object as the human began running out of his sight. The warlock paused, legs itching to chase after them but decided against it since they would be gone from the forest soon in one way or another.

*

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, long past complaining about all of the branches and big leaves that whipped in your face. The sight of that thing dug into the back of your eyes as you ran faster, feeling your heart hammering in your chest. You crashed through this godforsaken forest-you honestly thought that all of those stories the locals had told about it were old wives’ tales-trying to get as far away from that thing as you could. The way it stared at you, its black sunken eyes with piercing white pupils, made you want to throw up. And the way it tried snatching you, its claws looking like daggers in your panic as you tried getting away from it. You slowly came to a stop, legs aching as your lungs burned into the stifling humidity of the area you were in. There seemed to be a lake of some sort just over the fallen log you leaned against as you caught your breath. A groan escaped your mouth as you rubbed a hand over your chest, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt and feeling your heart thrum rapidly. 

“Fucking forest…” You dug the heel of your hands over your eyes, giving a muffled scream at having the run of your life. 

If only you had heed the warnings given by the villagers, no matter how crazed they sounded.

[suffering-is-cute]

how i know you love me: you never say that it's a waste of your time for me to cry.

how i know you love me: a study. one i am slightly horrified by.

you hug me, when my back is bent over from the weight of the words i pour into a careful stash of a safe because i'm kneeling,

i'm kneeling,

knee-ling, it hurts you inexplicably and just that. for no other reason.

how i know you love me: a discovery. one that breaks my heart at the fragility of me. i used to will myself not to really love.

but you, you rub my shoulders when they are knotted up, sneaking up on me from behind to do so. i am beginning to sob in an ugly grimace and you proffer me a tissue - tell me not to hold back. hit you if it helps. couldn't bring myself to. doesn't change what a monumental offer it was that you made to me.

how it shocked me, then, scared me right out of my boots. quaking. paling. how i know i love you: i would try to cross the world even if it's begging for the creation of a failure. i'd work towards it, i do, every, every, day. the hard ones, too. especially the hard ones.

i bang on my own door wielding the knife of your absence that stabs me straight through the gut. the odds are slim, but i can be thinner. i want to slide between the gaps of what can't be and what is allowed to happen right into the channeling flow of what you tell me i can do. what you trust me to do.

how can i refuse that? how, why would i ever let you down? no correct excuse. i have to live up to your love, then.

i don't make a habit of believing in myself because i know all too well how easily i lie to anyone but strangers and people who taste the turning restlessness of a ribboned hunger. people who bite back when i leave out bait, fondly or otherwise. but for you i forgot my weakness and picked up courage shaped like a frying pan.

i have a want that i am willing to admit and make slightly tangible, flickering like a ghost on a noir movie behind me - a want that is so strong my sensitivity could break if it was ever jeered at. here. take it, unfold it, make whatever comment you will.

i want to make you breakfast every morning, even when it hurts for me to wake up.

even when there are dark circles under my eyes, even feverish and even spent. unless you, clutching my hand sleepily, tell me to come back to bed with you, i will set my alarm and then i will get up. i will fasten my apron and i will make something warm for you to consume.

how i know you love me: i think you know what i want, and you haven't left once of your own accord. you hold on to me because you see something, i assume, something you want.

i have dreamed, of being valuable. i do not let go of dreams within my reach, no matter how painful the bark of the thin twig in my grasp is. no matter how much rawness scraped into my palm or the calluses or the prickling of blood like baby rubies.

i do not scare you, never have, not yet.

i will try my best to blunt my fangs and soften my heart. you ought to have this from me. it tastes right to give it.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Current-ish PARTIES: @singdreamchild & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Both Alex and Cassius find themselves on a late night stroll in the woods. The two catch up briefly when they run into each other. CONTENT: Homophobia mentions

He found himself getting more contemplative after the sun had gone down recently. And instead of continuing to hide like he had been, he had gone out more. Of course, trails closed after the sun went down, but it wasn’t his fault that his skin would start to burn if he tried to hike during daylight hours. That’s how Cassius found himself walking along the trail at sundown. His hands shoved in his pockets as he looked around at the nature around him. It gave him a sort of inspiration. Writing had been hard for him lately, and he had found himself branching out from poetry to writing a novel. It had reinvigorated him and left him with more to say than poetry ever could. So, to get ideas, he often walked around in settings he wanted to portray in his book, like the woods. 

Walking along the trail, he heard a twig snap behind him. Cassius stopped, spinning around to come face-to-face with Alex. “Oh! Hello.” He spoke with a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, no matter how hard he tried. It was an odd sight, a goth hiking. He was wearing something straight out of a Victorian mourning scene, suitable for a nighttime stroll through the streets of London in the 1800s more than it was the woods as the sun went down in the 21st century. 

“Don’t tell me you’re here to tell me to go home,” he spoke with a frown, knowing that she worked with the park rangers. “Some of us can’t get out while the sun is up for one reason or another.” Usually, he’d make up an excuse for why he couldn’t do things during the day, but he found, lately, that he just didn’t care anymore. So what if someone knew he was a vampire? The worst they could do was kill him. He found that the idea of such a fate didn’t really bother him much, either. It was a strange feeling.

The most recent full moon had made a world of a difference when it came to the restless feelings Alex had been battling, but it had also done wonders on healing up the last of the gunshot wound she got courtesy of one of maman's old friends. The thought held more bitterness than it had previously, but the werewolf was pleased that she could get out and about again without experiencing a significant amount of pain. Even before she'd become a creature of the forest herself, she'd always found peace in nature. Maybe it was because it was everything the basement wasn't— moving, filled with life, open. 

Or maybe she was just a gay girlie who really fucking loved trees and flowers. Alex figured it didn't matter that much either way. She was trying to let go of the idea of 'soft' being a bad thing and that meant whatever the reason was for the whole plant love thing didn't actually matter. It didn't have to be some guise to work as a park ranger and protect people, it could just be. She could just be. 

Alex was doing decidedly doing pretty damn good at the whole just existing thing as she walked through one of her favorite patches of the forest. The fir trees ahead had clusters of honey mushrooms growing overhead that lit up patches of the trail with the most beautiful green glow. It was decidedly a peaceful little nighttime hike that pleased the werewolf's need for a bit of movement though she found herself caught off guard when she ran into someone... her high school history teacher in full goth? Sure, that was his aesthetic normally, but it was a little jarring to see in the middle of the forest, especially considering she hadn't even heard him approach. 

“Oh hey,” she waved with a smile despite her confusion. Alex was nothing if not polite to her teachers, former and current alike. The idea of even a past teacher not liking her was enough to send her into a spiral, so she just avoided that likelihood altogether. But then, he mentioned something about her telling him to leave and not being able to get out during the day.

Alex raised a suspicious eyebrow and found herself listening for a heartbeat that wasn't there. The steady thrum of her own heart was the only one making a sound on the trail. “Huh,” she shrugged, “I wasn't gonna say shit actually. I'm still on leave from my internship so I'm out here enjoying the trail just like you.” 

If she wanted her old teacher to continue liking her, maybe brushing over the vampire suspicion would have been a better move, but her best friend was a zombie and she hung out at a farm staffed by zombies like all the time. Alex even manned their instagram account. Plus, Aria was a mare. She was like totally a friend to the undead. For once, it brought her some satisfaction knowing how much her parents would hate that. 

“So no getting out when the sun's shining...,” Alex hummed, “And no heartbeat.” She offered a smirk to show it didn't matter much to her. It wasn't like she was gonna pull that rosary out that Emilio had given her when that lapir decided she looked like lunch. “I'm guessing I shouldn't break out the garlic bread,” she asked jokingly, “Wait? Is that actually a thing?” She'd probably feel pretty murderous if she couldn't eat garlic bread either, to be fair. 

“Or is it like one of those weird media twists... like Twilight and all the werewolves wearing jorts,” she asked, half serious, “We don't wear jorts... Well, at least not all of us. I much prefer hiking pants or joggers myself. Though I've been known to rock some Daisy Dukes when the theme calls for it.” 

Like when Cass introduced her to the hoedown throwdown from Hannah Montana. That was an occasion that called for Daisy Dukes 100%. Somehow, she had the feeling her history teacher understood the importance of doing something for the aesthetic. 

—

The vampire raised a brow at Alex as she confessed she was in the woods for the same reason. He adjusted his satchel, which held the journal where he had written his ideas down. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one out walking at night. It was nicer still that it was someone Cassius recognized as a former student. Alex had always been one of the better students, smart and memorable enough that she stuck out in his mind. Of course, it was weird to connect with a student after graduation, but it wasn’t unwelcome either. Plenty of students had reached out to him over social media over the years. He may be old, but he wasn’t a curmudgeon hiding from the internet.

He froze as soon as she started to list the things that made him a vampire. It was weird to be called out on it, but it was also nice not to hide it. Sometimes it was good to be seen for what he truly was, minus the slayer who wanted nothing more than his head to be stuck on a pike. “Caught me,” Cassius muttered with an amused smirk. “Some of us hide in plain sight, I will admit.” He crossed his arms over his chest as she spoke. “Garlic forces my fangs out, but doesn’t make me break out in a rash or anything.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “I still avoid it where I can. Some people freak out at the sudden appearance of fangs and red eyes.” He wiggled his fingers dramatically. 

“Call me a twilight vampire, and I’ll leave.” He threatened, pointing a finger in her direction accusatorily. No, the only thing he had in common with Twilight was that one actor that looked spookily like him. “A werewolf?” He cocked his head to the side, brow raised. “Sharp wit, a temper to match…” he trailed off, looking over the girl’s face. “Yeah, that tracks.” He gave a soft smile. He didn’t care what she was. She had always been a good person. “One of us reps a more stereotypical look than the other, but there’s still time for you.” He gave a toothy grin. “You’re still young, after all.” He raised his brows, almost as if he was issuing a challenge.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, more of a habit to appear human than an actual need to do so. “Obviously, I hide in plain sight.” He shot back, gesturing to what he had on in all its Victorian glory. “Only gotten me caught once in all my years, so I’m doing something right.” Of course, he had also been careless, traipsing around a graveyard that he knew slayers liked to frequent. 

Hiding in plain sight. Part of her had to wonder just how old the vampire was and if he would understand the Taylor Swift reference in his own words. Alex figured she may have already been pushing her luck with being one of his favorite alumni students by asking the whole 'bones or boobs' thing. She wasn't sure dropping a pop culture lesson was the move here, especially considering he looked like he listened to whatever the Edgar Allan Poe of music was which was decidedly not Taylor Swift even if Dear Reader was decidedly a bop and a half. A bop squared even. And... It was pretty emo. 

Instead, Alex laughed. “The curse of having hearing that is just... way too good.” She shrugged. Most of the time it was more of a curse than a gift, but it helped sometimes. What was a little sensory overload in the big scheme of things anyway? “You're doing a pretty good job... wouldn't have guessed before,” she gestured, “Even if the outfit is kind of giving vibes. I just always thought you had a really good sense of fashion. But hey... garlic forces my fangs out too, but probably a very different deal.”

She just loved eating food with garlic in it. Garlic bread, garlic chicken, garlic dip— it was all delicious in her book. Then again, Alex also thought a whole moose unseasoned was delicious depending on the day of the month, so she probably wasn't anyone's go-to culinary expert. Kaden would probably laugh at her name and the phrase even being used in the same sentence considering she was more than content to eat Chefboyardee straight from the can and call it dinner. 

Alex did find herself relaxing into the easier banter. Ah the one thing that connected the supernatural together—- fucking hating Twilight. She leaned against one of the firs and chortled a bit. “Duly noted, teach.” The confirmation of her own species did leave her feeling a bit uneasy, but it was getting easier to say the words at least. “Yep, I'm a werewolf... have been this whole time actually,” she shrugged, “Got bitten when I was 7 so the moon and I have been vibing for a long time.“ 

Vibing was nicer than the truth of it, but the full moon didn't fill Alex with as much dread now that she had a taste of it outside of her bunker. Her bones didn't still carry that same antsy feeling in them the following morning. Even the jokes felt a little easier to lean into and it was a change... that she was pretty sure she welcomed. ”I don't know,“ she retorted playfully, ”I think granola gay is pretty on brand for werewolf... even if it's not on brand for Twilight werewolves, but like--- what is? Twilight got most shit wrong... and had that ugly CGI baby.“ 

She didn't actually know that for sure, but Thea had mentioned it and she trusted that bit. Alex had only seen the first two movies with Cass when it was explained the role the films played in pop culture. They were kind of fun to laugh at. 

”So you've been a vampire the whole time then too,” Alex mused, “Huh. How long has it been for you? Are you like... old enough to have been there for some of the history you taught?” Getting caught only once meant he probably wasn't out eating people left and right... which was a good thing. Not that he had given her the vibe she needed to be afraid of him when he was her teacher. All in all, he was pretty chill as far as teachers went. 

Something in him getting caught did make her own stomach turn. Alex refused to acknowledge that feeling too deeply and instead joked, “Can't say I've been as lucky on that front, but part of the fun of becoming what the family kills or whatever.“ Because somehow every attempt on her life always came back to that. Her aunt, her mother's friend.... hopefully there weren't anymore coming out of the woodwork, but she wasn't sure how much she trusted her own luck.  

Cassius couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for Alex. The idea of being a little girl and suddenly going through trying to understand being a werewolf on top of everything else sounded awful. “Vibing is one word to use,” he muttered, though mostly to himself. “I’ve been thirty-three for one hundred and seventy-three years.” He confessed, raising his hands above his head as if to say, what can you do?

He had to take a moment to process the phrase ‘granola gay,’ he felt as if time was finally catching up to him, as he had no idea what that could mean. “What is granola gay?” He asked, face a mix of weirded out and confused. “Twilight made people think that vampires sparkled in the sun. I wish all the sun did was make me sparkle.” Cassius frowned, as if disappointed in his person's lack of sparkling skin. 

“I’ve been thirty-three for one hundred and seventy-three years.” He confessed, raising his hands above his head as if to say, what can you do? “I was born in 1817, turned in 1851.” He let out a sigh through his nose. It was weird to talk about his true age out loud. Let’s say my knowledge of Victorian England and onward is more of a lived experience than something I read about.” 

He gave a thoughtful look for a moment. “My sire was born in the 1500s. He was a plague doctor. I got much of my history knowledge from someone who lived it rather than the written variety. I became a history teacher because it was an easy gig.” He smiled wryly, knowing he had taken a lazy way out. But hey, someone had to teach it.

“The only reason I have avoided being hunted for sport for as long as I have is because I was taught to have no connections. And when I overstayed my welcome, I moved to the next place.” He shrugged a shoulder, a faraway look in his eyes as he talked about it. “My sire made sure that we put survival first.” The faraway gaze turned sad, and he shook his head as if willing the thoughts out of his mind. “I don’t recommend living your life that way. Better to learn self-defense than run away from your problems whenever the winds turn against your favor.”

Of all the crazy things Alex could expect to find in the woods, finding herself explaining what granola gay meant to her high school history definitely wasn't one of them. It was far less nefarious than most of the things that lurked in the woods. Cassius always had possessed a certain bravado that seemed to pair well with his classic vampire style. With all the kitschy stuff in Wicked's Rest, the vampire was easy to look over. He practically blended in here. She realized that maybe Wicked's Rest, with all its terrifying faults, was the kind of place where people like them could carve out a life for themselves. Hadn't they both done just that? 

“Granola gay... is like your outdoorsy gay stereotype. Lots of flannel, lots of hiking boots, hydroflasks.” Alex grinned wickedly. “I stole mine. The hydroflask that is... Actually some of the boots and flannel too. But those fucking water bottles are like $60? Capitalism has got me fucked up on that one.” She gestured to the beanie on her head. “But like beanies, other weather friendly hats and outerwear. Backpacks instead of purses. General gist of it.” 

The whole granola aesthetic did seem fitting for what werewolves actually were, or at least, who Alex was as a werewolf. She wasn't sure her experience spoke to all werewolves, but she'd found the forest was a place her and Alan both seemed to enjoy. She'd felt her most free on the full moon weaving through the trees alongside Gael. Who knew. All she knew is it fit her. 

“Yeah, sparkling does seem more fun than catching fire,” Alex joked with a cynical laugh, ”With the way people are using highlighter these days, no one would even know the difference.“ 

How old her former history teacher was didn't surprise Alex as much as she expected. It was like pieces of a puzzle fitting together perfectly. ”And here I was going to say you don't look a day over 140,“ she quipped. “That's pretty neat though... Teaching stuff you've actually lived. And hey, you're good at it.” 

That much was true. Cassius did have a way of making the subject fun even though it wasn't normally her favorite. Alex nodded along as he spoke and found herself frowning. She'd spent a long time running and she wasn't sure she could do it again. Both she and Andy had finally started to place roots and build actual lives. Her stomach turned with guilt, she knew that was worth fighting for. It was still hard to think she shouldn't have made Andy to be the one to fight. 

“Yeah... I moved around a lot when I was younger before we settled here,” Alex explained, “Always me and my sister.” There were a lot of good memories in all the places they called home, however temporarily. “Survival is good,” she noted, “But I think you're right. It's not... living. Or unliving? It's not a life might be the better way to say that. Connections, getting to experience all that is worth fighting for, I think.” 

Cassius couldn’t stop the amused smile that broke over his features, and he shook his head and let out a soft laugh. “Definitely not me, then.” He murmured, that same smile on his features as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Guess that makes me the confused gay.” He pointed to himself with a sage nod. “If I had to choose, of course.” He tacked on, now stuck thinking about ridiculously priced water bottles. His smile turned into an annoyed frown. “Good on you for stealing it. Take capitalists down a peg.” He decided with a smirk in her direction.

“It was strange to talk about these things with a former student. Then again, Alex had already crossed a few boundaries when she dared ask him about his preferences for bones or boobs. He shuddered at the memory. He made it a habit to be polite with his former students but kindly shut down any further acts of friendship on the student’s part. He wasn’t sure why. It just never ceased to make him feel a little bit uncomfortable. Still, being friendly wasn’t that terrible. 

The vampire thought for a moment. He had lived through quite a few historical events, hadn’t he? “You want to know something kind of cool?” He asked her, the corner of his lips quirking upwards. “I may or may not have been in the stonewall riots.” He explained with a shrug of his shoulder. He remembered the pure and unbridled rage he had felt that day. He was so damn tired of hiding who he was at that point—repressing one’s sexuality since the 1800s? He could only take so much. “That’s one piece of history I was present for, anyway.” He waved a hand as if it wasn’t that important. He remembered the look on Richard’s face when he had gotten home before sunrise. He was pissed, but he was also a little proud. 

“Between you and me,” he began, letting his hands fall from his pockets. “I’m still trying to learn to make connections.” He frowned, kicking at the dirt beneath his boot. “Spent so long being taught to avoid everyone and everything at all costs makes unlearning it a bit hard.” He sighed, looking around at his surroundings momentarily before gazing back at the young werewolf. “I’m glad to see that you’re doing well, Alex. Truly.” He shuffled his feet, as if getting ready to leave.

It was a strange chance meeting, but one Alex found she didn't quite mind. Of everything and everyone she could have run into in the forest in the middle of the night, her high school history teacher was hardly even close to the worst. Running into him had actually been nice and she didn't even feel weird about the whole him being a vampire thing. That had to be progress or something, she decided. 

“Confused gay, classical gothic gay,” Alex shrugged, “Kind of go hand in hand anyway. And taking capitalists down apeg is like my favorite hobby.” She smiled proudly at that one. Maybe she couldn't actually be Robin Hood, but embracing the spirit felt right. 

When Cassius shared a bit of history with her, Alex's eyes widened with  amazement. “Really,“ she asked incredulously, ”That's... I mean it's terrible that it had to happen, but pretty fucking awesome you were out there fighting for our right to exist and all.“ It made her pretty proud to call the vampire her teacher even if she couldn't necessarily advertise that part of his history. Cass would at least appreciate it, she thought. 

Part of her understood where Cassius was coming from. Had Alex not staved off making connections outside of Andy for most of her life? It'd been easier that way, but then they found a place they could actually call home... and well, their world got bigger. ”Connections have a way of sneaking up on you in a town like this,“ she smiled wistfully as she thought of the friends she'd made, ”It's hard to unlearn, but... people can surprise you.“  She saw him moving to leave and offered a friendly wave. “Good seeing you... and take care,” she called out. 

[princessdreamie]

DBH part 41

Months go by and thanks to more security, nothing suspicious happened with Bu.

The Stanton's were glad that this live stream Xa coordinated was private, and only for certain eyes to see.

That still didnt make the situation better. Now not only Na was taking a break with their family dinners, but N was not feeling well with her son showing his true colors.

Br, still mad at what happened at that party, had to admit that her little brother needed help. She still hopes for some improvement for his well-being tho.

At Hawaii

S was lying on the deck chair under the parasol, enjoying the warm weather. The bar owner was at the beginning very reluctant about her Husband's proposal to go on a trip. She had so much work to do with her staff and the bar overall. But C came through to her as she finally caved in. But only under one condition. E had to leave his work at home as well.

Even if it was his idea, he was planning on doing some work done on his laptop. But his wife wouldn't budge otherwise. Their trip got postponed bc of some geown up drama and their own problems but once everything got settled they finally got to their long awatrd holiday trip.

Mt had to do all of the remaining paperwork, which mean a lot of over time. It's not like they had enough piled up b4. But it had to be done.

While S was relaxing, C was windsurfing with some ppl he had befriended on his stay. A cool bunch of guys wanted to see how well he would do on a board. At first he had to get used to the waves but after some adjustments on his stance he flew off with his new buddies. Se & his dad were getting ice cream to cool down when E felt someone staring at them from afar.

S noticed E's change of demeanor and asked what was wrong.

„I had a weird feeling being watched just now. What if there are paparazzi around?“

The woman laughed at that idea: „So? What if they are? It is not like we had to deal with them b4. So just relax.“

Believing his wife, he sat back on his chair listening to some audio book. Se had started collecting little branches and seaweed to build a tiny terrain in the sand with Ll.

Ll came with them as well, bc she felt neglected recently, so her humans took her with them.

The 2 had a lot of fun making things like mountains made out of sand and seaweed as the forests. They even attempted to build a horse with the sticks they had found. To no luck.

The twigs wouldn't hold that well together.

Out of nowhere a guy handed them some used shoelaces to bind them together. Se accepted them gratefully while the turquoise tigress had a look of shock in her eyes.

The stranger didn't leave immediately and stuck around for a little while longer. Asking the boy strange questions. Ll took on her big sister persona and asked the man to let them play alone. Se was surprised at her attitude forward the new guy.

The little bot and the newcomer had a standoff with eachother.

B4 things got awkward, C came to their rescue when he came back from surfing.

He noticed the guy staning under one of the stalls, observing his siblings for more than 10 minutes straight. It didn't seem right to him so he had to cut his windsurfing short. And glad he did. The man was giving him the creeps just by looking at him.

The guy had a little talk with the teenager and left once he excused himself. C's eyes followed that man until he dissapeared behind a souvenir shop.

C at once told his parents what he saw, and E immediately got in high alert.

E ordered his family to go back into their rooms and not come out until he said so. S meanwhile was hoping that it all was just a misunderstanding, as she held her little boy in her arms.