#additionally the thought of him having been alive for so long is kind funny

[sweetest-honeybee]

whats that ? hes been alive for centuries ? nah thats just the coffee and spite keeping him alive , no way hes a cryptic

oh ? the sun hurts him ? uhm thats just a ,, severe sunray reaction ! yeah ! that can happen right ?

( im having so much fun thinking of this au can you tell )

It’s so fun, I need to get tag going for it 😂 But god Frank just being that fuckin oblivious is my new favorite thing ever. Like so suspicious of everyone else that he doesn’t consider that he’s got any strange habits that would suggest anything about himself because I mean, who would know Frank better than Frank? Surely there’s nothing he could’ve possibly missed

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Any thoughts on the mystery behind the Veil of Death and the three brothers?

ana-lyz: So... What does it mean to be the Master of Death in HP universe? And like what does being MOD mean specifically for Harry?

Okay, funny thing is I got the first of your asks like an hour after I added to my drafts a post titled "Master of Death", so I was just thinking about it. And then I started answering it and you sent the second ask, so, great minds think alike, I guess.

Long post ahead:

The Veil, Death, and its Master

I'm going to cover what we know from the books, my opinions on it, and some of my evidence-based headcanons, since there is a lot of speculation on my part.

The Afterlife and the Veil

So, I wanna talk a bit about death, as it appears in the Harry Potter books. We know an afterlife exists in the HP world both when Harry dies and when he speaks to Nearly Headless Nick after Sirius dies.

I want to start with the scene in Deathly Hallows in the King's Cross limbo. Specifically these few sections:

Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and put them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them. . . . He stood up, looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement?

(DH, 596)

“Where are we, exactly?” “Well, I was going to ask you that,” said Dumbledore, looking around. “Where would you say that we are?” Until Dumbledore had asked, Harry had not known. Now, however, he found that he had an answer ready to give. “It looks,” he said slowly, “like King’s Cross station. Except a lot cleaner and empty, and there are no trains as far as I can see.” “King’s Cross station!” Dumbledore was chuckling immoderately. “Good gracious, really?” “Well, where do you think we are?” asked Harry, a little defensively. “My dear boy, I have no idea. This is, as they say, your party.”

(DH, 601)

“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?” Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright white mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?

(DH, 610)

I don't think this place Harry was in is the Afterlife, or even connected to the Afterlife. I think it is in Harry's head. Harry having complete control over it, actually calling it out as behaving like the Room of Requirement, Dumbledore not knowing where they are until Harry knows where they are, etc. All this doesn't fit with it being a limbo on the way to death and the figure there being the real Dumbledore. Dumbledore, throughout this scene, acts kind of strange, way more helpful and finally says all the right things Harry wants to hear.

Not-Dumbledore himself tells Harry he already knows everything he explains to him:

“Explain,” said Harry. “But you already know,” said Dumbledore. He twiddled his thumbs together

(DH, 597)

So, I truly believe it isn't really happening. That this isn't death and it isn't Dumbledore. throughout the scene, Dumbledore doesn't actually give Harry new information Harry couldn't guess on his own. He's just going over things Harry already knew and creating a nice narrative out of them. At some points, he asks Harry what he thinks, and only starts explaining once Harry knows the answer (or what he wants the answer to be). I think this is Harry's subconscious coping and not actual death.

Additionally, there's the disturbing baby Voldemort thing. Now, the real Voldemort is still alive, so contrary to what Not-Dumbledore says, it isn't actually Tom Riddle:

“Oh yes!” said Dumbledore. “Yes, he destroyed it. Your soul is whole, and completely your own, Harry.” “But then . . . ” Harry glanced over his shoulder to where the small, maimed creature trembled under the chair. “What is that, Professor?” “Something that is beyond either of our help,” said Dumbledore

(DH, 598)

What I believe it is, is the soul in the Horcrux in Harry. Separated from Harry's own soul within his mind. That's the only thing it can be, in my opinion. I don't believe the soul shards in the Horcruxes could pass into an afterlife, or even to limbo. They were created to be bound to life and passing away is against their very nature (unless, maybe, if you throw them through the veil).

Besides all these oddities in the scene, it just doesn't make sense for Dumbledore to be there. Nearly Headless Nick gives some insight about death and the Afterlife:

“He will not come back,” repeated Nick quietly. “He will have . . . gone on.” “What d’you mean, ‘gone on’?” said Harry quickly. “Gone on where? Listen — what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn’t everyone come back? Why isn’t this place full of ghosts? Why — ?” “I cannot answer,” said Nick. “You’re dead, aren’t you?” said Harry exasperatedly. “Who can answer better than you?” “I was afraid of death,” said Nick. “I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn’t to have . . . Well, that is neither here nor there. . . . In fact, I am neither here nor there. . . .” He gave a small sad chuckle. “I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries —”

(OotP, 861)

From the way Nick speaks, ghosts are caught between life and death, part of them remains among the living while the rest moves on. Ghosts live in limbo, unable to be alive or dead. From his words, it also implies the properly dead, those who chose to move on, stay dead. They stay gone.

If that's the case, how could Dumbledore come to greet Harry in limbo? He's dead, truly gone, and death has no exceptions. There is no reason Dumbledore could speak to Harry in limbo and his parents won't. Once you're dead, you reach the afterlife and there you stay.

So I don't think the white King's Cross in Harry's death vision was connected to the afterlife, nor was it the real Dumbledore there. So, what is the actual afterlife?

Well, we don't really know. But, I can cover what we do know about the nature of death in the HP universe.

From Nick's words, the afterlife is the better option, than becoming a ghost. Nick describes ghosts as imprints left behind, but imprints of what specifically?

I talked about this already when I discussed how to make Horcruxes, but in alchemy, everything is comprised of three things:

Sulfur - soul

Mercury - spirit (that binds the body and the soul)

Salt - body

A ghost doesn't have a body, and we know all that moves on to the afterlife is one's soul. Therefore, it stands to reason ghosts are an imprint of a soul, while the spirit leaves at the moment of death. That's what an Avada Kedavra does, it removes the spirit, the connection between the body and the soul. That's how it kills instantly and without a trace.

So, when someone passes into the afterlife, it's their soul that passes away.

What about the echoes of Harry's parents and Cedric in Voldemort's wand during the duel in the graveyard?

Well, they're dead, they moved on, so it can't be their soul. The figures aren't even described the same way as ghosts or diary Tom, figures we know are made of souls:

and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort’s wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke. . . . It was a head . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory. the dense shadow of a second head, If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory (was it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort’s wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.

(GoF, 665-666)

Their bodies are buried, and Cedric's is just lying there, neither are they physical enough to be bodies. I believe this is their spirit. Remember what I said about the Killing Curse just now, it severs the tie, and as such, it keeps the spirit. So, Harry is speaking to his parents' spirit, the echoes of their lives, not souls.

Now, let's talk about the veil. The veil is one of the most fascinating things introduced in the books, and the way it is introduced is fascinating on its own, but that's for later. The veil is a physical archway into the world of the dead.

The concept of such an entrance exists in multiple mythologies. In Greek mythology, many heroes (Odysseus, Orpheus, Heracles, Theseus, etc.) all travel through the underworld in one way or another, this is why the hero's journey goes through the underworld, it's very common. In Mesopotamian mythology, Gilgamesh and Ishtar both travel to the underworld. The point is, a gateway into the afterlife you can travel through, is a concept humanity has been toying with for millennia.

What's interesting is that, like Thestrals, those who've seen death (Harry, Luna, and Neville) can hear whispers from it. They experience it differently from others who haven't witnessed death (Ron, Hermione, and Ginny) who feel unnerved by it (although, Neville and Luna react differently from Harry, but more on that later). Not much more can be said about it, except that unlike all these gates into the underworld from myths, the veil is meant to be a one-way ticket.

In general, the afterlife in the Wizarding World is a one-way passage. Once you're gone, you're gone. Hence the closest thing to proper necromancy they have is creating inferi, which are soulless since the soul can't be pulled back from the afterlife.

The veil was also there before the Ministry of Magic, which was built around it. My guess is that some ancient wizards made it, and how or why were forgotten over time.

As the Peverell brothers were born around the 1210s and the Ministry of Magic was founded in 1707, it's possible, that the same Peverells from the story have built the veil. I actually think it's quite likely.

Death Himself

The idea of death personified is just as old and prevalent in many myths and cultures as a gateway leading into the afterlife. Whether Death, as a being, exists in the Wizarding World, I'm uncertain, but I don't think it's likely.

God-like spirits like Death feel out of place in the world in a way. Like, having a pantheon of gods feels wrong for the world of Harry Potter. It feels out of place with the established lore and magic. We don't see any evidence of wizarding society having any kind of unique religion in which such beings exist. Death, in the tale, is also described as similar to a dementor, making the idea that the author based Death's appearance on that of a dementor plausible.

That being said, Death's similarity to dementors could be the other way around. As in, the dementors look like death because of their connection to him. And, Death from the Tale doesn't really act like a god. How he behaves and is spoken of in the Tale of the Three Brothers reminds me a lot of a fae-like creature. Like, a powerful being who's a trickster that twists your wishes into something that he can use against you.

However I look at it, I still don't feel a being like this would fit in the world of Harry Potter, it feels wrong to add gods (or fae) in there. We don't see any hint that such beings might exist, which makes me feel they don't. So, I don't really think a personification of Death as appearing in the tale actually exists, but they do have an afterlife, as established above.

The Peverells and the Hallows

So we all know the legend about the three Peverell brothers who cheated death and received his gifts. Dumbledore (the one Harry imagines in his death fever dream) is certain it went down a little differently. That the tale is to explain incredibly powerful magical artifacts made by extraordinary wizards:

“Oh yes, I think so. Whether they met Death on a lonely road . . . I think it more likely that the Peverell brothers were simply gifted, dangerous wizards who succeeded in creating those powerful objects. The story of them being Death’s own Hallows seems to me the sort of legend that might have sprung up around such creations.

(DH, 602)

While it's not really Dumbledore and more Harry's own mind, I agree with him the Peverell brothers were probably no run-of-the-mill wizards, and I agree it's unlikely they've met Death, as I don't believe he exists.

Now, all the Hallows have a sentience to them beyond just any magical artifact. Even the wand is more sentient than any other wand, which are already quite sentient ("the wand chooses the wizard").

The wand of the first brother is a Hallow I already wrote about how it chooses its master. It is a wand intrinsically connected with death, having a core of Thestral hair. (I wonder if a core from a Thestral would agree to work for a wizard who hasn't seen death, but I digress)

This wand is actually the least impressive Hallow, in my opinion. Even though it said to be unbeatable:

Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor

(DH, 352)

Its user is beaten quite often, that's how the wand changes owners, after all. This wand's tendency for even more sentience than other wands is what is particularly unique about it. How it chooses its master repeatedly, and sometimes even decides it prefers another over its current master, something unheard of for any other wand.

The Resurrection Stone has the supposed ability to pull a soul imprint from the afterlife:

“Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered.

(DH, 352)

Something that I just discussed above should be impossible. Once dead and in the afterlife, nothing comes back out. Harry uses it as well for the same purpose and describes them as being similar to Tom from the diary:

They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most closely the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so long ago, and he had been memory made nearly solid. less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved toward him, and on each face, there was the same loving smile.

(DH, 589)

Because that's what the stone brings back, echoes of souls, but they aren't what Tom Riddle was in CoS.

“We are part of you,” said Sirius. “Invisible to anyone else.”

(DH, 590)

This line, made me believe the resurrection stone does something different than its name suggests and more similar to the lie Tom in the diary told Harry. They aren't souls, they're memories, echoes from within Harry himself. "Memory made solid"

Magic, in the world of Harry Potter, can't bring back someone who has moved on to the afterlife. It's a one-way ticket, as I've established before, once your soul moves on, that's it (if you try to resurrect someone immediately after they died and their soul hasn't yet moved on it's a different story). So I think, these shades are based on Harry's memories, and not actual souls brought back. It'll make more sense magically since his thoughts and memories are there, but the souls have gone on.

It also makes the tale of the second brother make more sense. He suffered because it wasn't really his wife that came back, but a shade based on his own memory. The tale said that she suffered, but I think it was Cadmus who suffered, not truly having her back. However, depending on how she died, her suffering might've been his memories of her that the stone resurrected, or the tale made it all up just like it made up Death.

The stone is just as picky about its master as the wand. It does not seem to have worked for anyone other than Cadmus Peverell and Harry himself. We don't hear of any Gaunts who used the stone, nor do we hear from Dumbledore he succeded in using it (I don't think it's actually Dumbledore in the conversation in King's Cross as I mentioned above). Regardless, I think the real Dumbledore probably did try to use it, and I will hazard a guess he failed. Since the stone didn't choose him.

The Cloak is unique in many ways. Lasting centuries, way longer than any invisibility cloak can, passing from parent to child for generations. It also does a better job of concealing you than another invisibility cloak, if, it still has its limits:

“...We are talking about a cloak that really and truly renders the wearer completely invisible, and endures eternally, giving constant and impenetrable concealment, no matter what spells are cast at it. How many cloaks have you ever seen like that, Miss Granger?”

(DH, 354)

The cloak is similar to the other Hallows in how picky it is regarding its master. The cloak wouldn't belong to anyone who just possesses it, it's not enough. It has to be passed willingly on the owner's deathbed, as they greet death as an old friend. It means that in the books, no one but Harry could be its owner.

All artifacts are powerful, but they aren't capable of anything that breaks the laws of nature (as the stone doesn't really resurrect), they are also sentient and picky, but it isn't something beyond the capacity of wizards. Why, we know of four wizards who made three sentient magical artifacts already — The Hogwarts founders.

The four founders enchanted the sorting hat together, but more relevant to the discussion of the Hallows are the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance.

At the precise moment that a child first exhibits signs of magic, the Quill, which is believed to have been taken from an Augurey, floats up out of its inkpot and attempts to inscribe the name of that child upon the pages of the Book (Augurey feathers are known to repel ink and the inkpot is empty; nobody has ever managed to analyse precisely what the silvery fluid flowing from the enchanted Quill is). Those few who have observed the process (several headmasters and headmistresses have enjoyed spending quiet hours in the Book and Quill’s tower, hoping to catch them in action) agree that the Quill might be judged more lenient than the Book. A mere whiff of magic suffices for the Quill. The Book, however, will often snap shut, refusing to be written upon until it receives sufficiently dramatic evidence of magical ability.

(from pottermore)

The idea of multiple sentient, powerful magical artifacts that need to agree is something wizards are capable of. And that, I think, is the secret to becoming the Master of Death — having all 3 Hallows pick you. Just like the book and quill need to agree a student should be admitted to Hogwarts.

Master of Death

Or more specifically what does that actually mean and why I think even if someone retrieved all 3 Hallows they wouldn't have become the Master of Death if their name isn't Harry James Potter.

This is definitely more in the headcanon territory, but the first scene that really made me think about it is the one in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. Because I think Harry and death always had a weird connection, it might've been around before the failed killing curse, and it was definitely around before Harry mastered all 3 Hallows.

So, why do I think Harry was always bound to be the Master of Death, and even if Dumbledore or Voldemort had all the Hallows it wouldn't have helped them?

There, are a few things that led me to this conclusion.

First, as I mentioned above, the cloak can not belong to anyone other than Harry in the books. It means that no one but Harry could master all of the Deathly Hallows, regardless of what they did.

Second, This first scene in the Death Chamber with the veil. I'll copy parts of it below and ask you to note, as you read, that Harry, Neville, and Luna are the only three who can see Thestrals and therefore should react more to the veil:

“Who’s there?” said Harry, jumping down onto the bench below. There was no answering voice, but the veil continued to flutter and sway. “Careful!” whispered Hermione. ... He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. ... “Let’s go,” called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. “This isn’t right, Harry, come on, let’s go. . . .” She sounded scared, much more scared than she had in the room where the brains swam, yet Harry thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was. The gently rippling veil intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it. “Harry, let’s go, okay?” said Hermione more forcefully. “Okay,” he said, but he did not move. He had just heard something. There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil. “What are you saying?” he said very loudly, so that the words echoed all around the surrounding stone benches. “Nobody’s talking, Harry!” said Hermione, now moving over to him. “Someone’s whispering behind there,” he said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. “Is that you, Ron?” “I’m here, mate,” said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway. “Can’t anyone else hear it?” Harry demanded, for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder; without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais. “I can hear them too,” breathed Luna, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. “There are people in there!” .... “Sirius,” Harry repeated, still gazing, mesmerized, at the continuously swaying veil. “Yeah . . .” ... On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too.

(OotP, 773-775)

The interesting to note:

Luna, who can see Thestrals, also hears the whispering. I assume Neville does too.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny are mesmerized but unnerved by the veil. Ron and Hermione seem to fight this memorization in their fear for Harry as he nears the veil.

Harry is the only one who is drawn to the veil He is the only one that moved, the only one whose feet take him against his will to the dias with the veil.

Harry thinks of it as oddly beautiful.

He has an urge to pass through that no one else does. All of them are frozen in place.

Harry is so affected he needs to be reminded twice that he's there to save Sirius before he can draw himself away from the veil.

Third, later in the book, after Sirius fell through the veil, there's this part:

He had reached the floor, his breath coming in searing gasps. Sirius must be just behind the curtain, he, Harry, would pull him back out again. . . . But as he reached the ground and sprinted toward the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back. “There’s nothing you can do, Harry —” “Get him, save him, he’s only just gone through!” “It’s too late, Harry —” “We can still reach him —” Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go. . . . “There’s nothing you can do, Harry . . . nothing. . . . He’s gone.”

(OotP, 806)

Harry's instinct to go through the veil to get Sirius out is so odd. The way he thinks that he himself can pull him out, not anyone else, but he... I don't know, but, this scene is interesting. It almost makes me feel Harry could pull Sirius back out. He defied death already once and will defy it again in the 7th book, so why not? Why wouldn't he be able to pull someone back from beyond the veil if they fell through just now (the timing is relevant, I don't think Hary could pull, say, his parents out).

My headcanon is that in that very moment if Lupin let Harry pull Sirius out, it would've worked. Caused a pandemonium about the fact Harry can apparently resurrect the dead (even if it's not really what he did), but that it would've worked. (I actually really want to write a fic like this)

Fourth, throughout the 7th book, once Harry finds out about the Hallows, he can't let the thought go. He knows his cloak is one, he is convinced the stone is in the snitch Dumbledore left him, way before he opened it. He just has a sense about it, and a fixation on it that's almost instinct:

Dumbledore had left the sign of the Hallows for Hermione to decipher, and he had also, Harry remained convinced of it, left the Resurrection Stone hidden in the golden Snitch. Neither can live while the other survives. . . master of Death. . . Why didn’t Ron and Hermione understand? “‘The last enemy shall be destroyed is death,”’ Harry quoted calmly

(DH, 374-375)

So, these are my reasons why I believe Harry is the only character in the books that could or would be the MOD. It's just that he always was, in a way. The Hallows already chose him before he ever held any of them.

But what does it mean to be the Master of Death?

“Well, of course not,” said Xenophilius, maddeningly smug. “That is a children’s tale, told to amuse rather than to instruct. Those of us who understand these matters, however, recognize that the ancient story refers to three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death.” ... “When you say ‘master of Death’—” said Ron. “Master,” said Xenophilius, waving an airy hand. “Conqueror. Vanquisher. Whichever term you prefer.”

(DH, 353)

We don't really get much besides this. Along with what's written on James and Lily's grave:

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

(DH, 283)

Harry believes all phrases, along with the prophecy are connected and lead him to believe he should become the Master of Death:

Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death. . . Master. . . Conqueror. . . Vanquisher. . . The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. . . . And he saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose Horcruxes were no match. . . Neither can live while the other survives. . . Was this the answer?

(DH, 369-370)

So what can the Master of Death do? Death isn't a personified deity, what is defeating or contouring death mean? Does it mean immortality?

I don't know if I'll say full immortality, I think the Master of Death can die the same way Ignotus Peverell did. I think Ignotus Peverell was the first Master of Death, in a way, he at least represented the concept:

And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life

(DH, 352)

He was death's equal, he could escape it and live a fulfilling life, before choosing to meet Death on his own terms. I think that's what it means, that Death won't find Harry until he is ready to move on, and when he finally chooses to move on, Death would greet him with open arms.

The crux of it is the choice. That death can't touch you until you choose to allow it. And those who become Masters of Death, would always eventually choose to greet death, as these are the type of people the 3 Hallows would choose. It's all about choices.

(For the record, yes, I think there could be more than one MOD, I think Ignotus was until his death, and then in the books, Harry is)

And considering how much emphasis is put on choices and intentions in the magic of this world, it seems only right to be so relevant here too.

Like with the Mirror or Erised, which only let someone who wanted to have the Philosopher's Stone but not use it, have it; the Hallows won't choose a master who wouldn't, eventually, be willing to accept death. Because mastering death, isn't only not dying, it's understanding it, and accepting it. Both the deaths of others and eventually your own.

Also, as I mentioned above, I headcanon that Harry could pull Sirius out the moment he fell in through the veil. I don't think anyone but Harry could. I believe, as a Master of Death, Harry is the only wizard (well, being) that can go into the afterlife, walk past the veil, and come back out. A Master of Death is the only one who the afterlife isn't a one-way ticket for.

(Although, I think it's possible that if you wear the invisibility cloak you might be able to pass into the veil and come out even without being the MOD, but, I wouldn't bet on it)

Summary of my thoughts

The afterlife exists in the Wizarding World and nothing that passes beyond the veil can return. It's a one-way ticket.

The scene in Deathly Hallows with Dumbledore in King's Cross station limbo didn't actually happen.

Death, as a deity of sorts most likely doesn't exist.

The Peverell brothers were powerful wizards who made the Deathly Hallows and perhaps the veil too.

The Resurrection stone can't bring a soul back from beyond the veil so it does the next best thing — reviving an illusion of a memory.

All 3 Deathly Hallows are very sentient magical artifacts like the sorting hat. Each of them is very picky when choosing its own master.

When all 3 Hallows choose the same master, this person is the Master of Death.

Being the Master of Death means the MOD won't die until the time of their choice. But the MOD will always choose to die eventually because that's the kind of person the Hallows would pick.

There can, over time, be more than one MOD (not at the same time though). And it's possible Ignotus Peverell was one, in a way.

The MOD might be the only person who can go into the veil and come back out.

The invisibility cloak might also allow you to make a trip into the veil and then back out.

[badpostureart]

It Could Only Ever be Rinharu

Author’s Entry Angle

As of May of 2023, the Makoharu v. Rinharu debate is alive and well, albeit on a much smaller scale than in years prior. I’ve been on team Rinharu for almost a decade now. The earliest I expressed (purely personal) written support for them was back in late October 2014 and my first fanart of them (never shared publicly) was finished in early November of that year. Since then, my writing and art have improved dramatically, but my feelings about Rin and Haru have largely remained the same. Equally, the debate hasn’t changed that much either—at least from those outspoken about their dislike of the other side. Indeed, some variation of the word “toxic” has at one point or another been used to describe both pairings, with fans caricaturing the other side as being overly emotional and/or delusional when faced with content of the pairing they don’t like. It’s honestly quite funny to read!

For me, shipping has been a cheeky exercise in empathy and introspection about relationships more broadly. Rinharu is kind of like a first love. Not only were they the first coupling I would defend with my dying breath, but they were invaluable in contouring my understanding of romantic love in all its absurdities. Undoubtedly, my own experiences (limited as they are) and personality colour my preference, and I’ve spent the last 10 years trying to articulate what I love about these goobers so damn much. What does being a Rinharu truther say about me, if anything at all? I would like to explain my Rinharu-or-bust rationale precisely because this has been such a polarizing debate in the fandom. What is obvious to me is not obvious to others—there would be no debate if that were the case. After all this time, I don’t hate people who ship Makoharu. They have poor taste, of course, but that isn’t worth hating someone over. Heh, just kidding! I’m being an ass on purpose because it’s just so easy!

Being that Free! has recently celebrated its tenth anniversary, I understand that people have had a long time to formulate their opinions and dig their heels in either way. I don’t believe engaging in debate will change people’s minds, and that isn’t what I’m trying to do here anyway. This is purely for fun! Additionally, while I’m still relatively new to posting on social media, I’m pretty sure it’s too late to respond directly to some of the points I mention below. Moreover, I don’t want to impose myself onto other people’s conversations—even though they’re public and some are overtly anti-Rinharu and antagonistic towards its supporters. These folks are ultimately entitled to their wrong opinions.

If you decide to indulge me and give my thoughts a read, I offer these disclaimers: I fully appreciate Makoto’s role in the Free! series more broadly and recognize that he is an important person in Haru’s life. Although I’ve never been a fan of Makoharu, I can appreciate where their supporters are coming from. I’m not writing in bad faith and do not wish to antagonize anyone. Equally, if I say anything you agree with, feel I’ve missed something, or think I’m completely out of line, please don’t be shy in letting me know! I’ve long wanted to engage in this conversation, but largely felt too shy to do so!

On Makoto Being “Boring”

Recently, I read a thread on Twitter where someone expressed indignation at the prospect of someone disliking Makoto for being “too nice.” Even after hearing at some point that people who aren’t his biggest fan find him boring, another commentator concluded that it’s “definitely something else.” What that “something else” could be…I’m not sure either! But I can certainly elaborate on the sentiment that Makoto is a boring character.

I, for one, don’t find him incredibly interesting. It isn’t that he’s “too nice,” but more so that his kindness is among the only characteristics I can think of to describe him. Frankly, I don’t know much about Makoto other than he’s kind, considerate, and supportive of others. His biggest flaws, if you could even call them that, are that he has a hard time being assertive and can be cowardly. He’s a nice guy, and how can you hate a nice guy without looking like a complete monster? By the same token, while I can’t hate him, I don’t feel particularly strong enough to like him that much either. I appreciated how Nao asks Makoto in Starting Days whether he likes swimming or simply that it’s something he can do with Haru because it addressed the problem I, (and likely others), had with Makoto’s character: Who is Makoto if Haru isn’t there? Aside from Haru, what does he like? What does he want to do purely for himself? By the movie’s end, I didn’t learn anything new about Makoto. He at least made peace with confirming that although he does like swimming in and of itself, he likes it better when it’s something he can do with his best friend. While completely unoffensive, it’s nothing to get excited about either.

On “Codependency” and “Toxicity”

Based on what we’ve covered so far, is it fair to say Makoto is overly dependent on Haru? Perhaps in some ways, but not to the degree of a complex. Growing up is hard, and being apart from someone you’ve spent virtually your whole life with is quite the adjustment to make. A better example of codependency would be Hiyori and Ikuya, with the former isolating the latter in order to hoard him privately to himself. (But that’s a story for another day).

On the flip side, Rinharu has been called toxic, presumably because they fight and have said hurtful things to each other. Oftentimes, these instances are the result of miscommunications, and while I wish they would be more honest with each other from the outset, they deserve grace too. Being vulnerable is not an easy thing to do—especially concerning someone one has strong feelings for. It may seem easier to push someone away or refuse to let them in to preserve a sense of pride or to protect oneself from the possibility of being hurt all over again. But for all the fighting Rin and Haru do, they have always reconciled and been able to express what having the other in their life means to them. They wouldn’t be able to affect each other as much as they have if they didn’t really care about each other, hm?

On Canonical Material

With translations of the FS Fanbook underway, some folks have suggested that being an “irreplaceable existence” is more significant than “destined to swim together,” but this depends entirely on how each statement is interpreted. Being that Makoto and Haru have known each other for basically their entire lives, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who could possibly know either of them better. They were firsthand witnesses to how the other grew up over the years because they did it together. Indeed, this relationship should in no way be underestimated or thought of as dispensable. Still, being a “destined pair” suggests to me that Rin and Haru’s connection is bigger than either one of them. Put another way, it is as if the universe itself declared that the two were on a crash course to meet and would ultimately share a future together. Now, depending on whether you see swimming as just a sport/shared interest or whether you believe, (like I do), that it’s an intrinsic part of who they are and how they express themselves and love toward others, then the implications of the statement “destined to swim together” are decidedly quite different.

I’ve never felt like Makoto and Haru were anything more than best friends. Between running the same “drop the chan already” routine and essentially being able to read each other’s minds, their relationship has settled into something undoubtedly solid. It’s clear that they understand each other very well and have an unspoken agreement to always support each other. If romantic love were a matter of practicality, Makoto would perhaps be the most reasonable candidate for Haru. It’s a safe choice. But the laws of attraction don’t adhere to whatever is most rational—it isn’t a matter of who knows you the best, has known you the longest, or fights with you the least. It’s about who moves you and makes you feel something. I don’t wish for Haru to make choices just because they’re familiar and easy or out of fear of possibility.

Likewise, Rin is special to Haru in a way different from any of his other friends—something that is acknowledged and talked about by other characters throughout the series. Nagisa remarks in season one that “Haru-chan says he doesn’t care about his times or winning races, but he’s motivated when he’s racing Rin-chan.” Why is that? What is it about Rin in particular that motivates Haru in a way no one else does? Even when they first met, Haru knew immediately that the other boy was going to be a prominent character in his life whether he wanted him to be or not. He tries to get ahead of it, even run away from it, but he decides instead to be brave and open up enough to let Rin, in all his fleeting glory, nestle inside his bones. We’re treated to Haru’s entire emotional range where Rin is concerned. (Frankly, he was the first person I think Haru allowed himself to be vulnerable with by agreeing to join the medley in elementary school). Despite only being in the same class for a couple of months, Rin left a deep and lasting impression on Haru to the point where he thinks about the other boy well into high school. Hell, feeling as though he hurt Rin caused Haru to quit (and later come back to) the sport he loves most. For someone who goes out of their way to avoid participating in, well, life, Rin sure does a hell of a job in moving Haru to actively engage with what goes on around him. In season two, Nagisa knowingly asks Makoto why he wanted to compete against Haru in the prefecturals. Makoto can’t give a definite answer, but says, “Maybe I was jealous of Rin.” If the audience were to understand Rin simply as Haru’s swimming rival and nothing more, Makoto’s words are incomprehensible. It isn’t just a rivalry with Haru that Rin has, but a mutual, intimate connection over the sport. In other words, Makoto’s feelings towards Haru are not reciprocated—and he knows it.

Indeed, while Makoto feels swimming is meaningless without Haru, Haru finds the greatest purpose in swimming with Rin. With Rin missing from his life, Haru was prepared to resign to being ordinary. In being able to swim together, he wants to be and experience more. And this isn’t necessarily to say that Makoto and Haru would have an unhappy life together, just that Rin offers Haru something no one else can—namely beautiful sights to be shared. Whereas Makoto has expressed the desire to be a part of Haru’s life no matter what he decides to do, Rin proposes to Haru that they share a life and a dream together. Haru can always be certain that Makoto will be there for him, but seeing all he and Rin can be is realized only if they move forward together. I think it goes without saying how much Rin adores Haru, what with him talking virtually everyone else’s ears off about him. Kisumi didn’t even swim, but he knew who Haru was because Rin (apparently) told all of his buddies at Sano about the guy with the “cool attitude and eyes clear as water.” The guy thinks of Haru in prose for god’s sake!

Rin and Haru’s relationship has undoubtedly gone through growing pains, but they’re getting better at communicating and being completely honest with each other (and, frankly, themselves). I admire their relationship because it’s so god damn dynamic—it’s playful, adorable, rife with tension, beautiful, devastating, frustrating, complicated, and innate all at once. Perhaps precisely because Makoto lacks dynamism I find the prospect of a romantic relationship between him and Haru to be, well…boring. It's not that their connection is non-existent or some flavour of the word toxic—they have a wonderful friendship—but I don’t get the sense that it will change much, let alone develop into anything more in the future. From my perspective, as soon as Rin entered the picture any chance for a romance between Makoto and Haru was soundly squashed. There was simply no going back to the ordinary time before Rin Matsuoka “coincidentally” ended up at Iwatobi Elementary School.

[sapplejack]

Bloody Roar concept art

Hi guys, a while back I asked a question about whether there were still any Bloody Roar fans. Now that I’ve logged into my Tumblr again, I’ve seen some ppl chime in to say hello! Thus, to keep this fandom (however small it is lol) active, imma post some cool stuff concerning BR; concept art for the first game. *Note that all this info is from Mitsuakira Tatsuta and Shinsuke Yamakawa’s Twitters with some of my opinions and observations sprinkled in 

So, back when the first game was being developed, the character designers had to rack their brains to come up with good zoanthrope designs. Part of the team were Mitsuakira Tatsuta and Shinsuke Yamakawa and they sketched all kinds of beasts at an incredible rate (like, it was a lot). Mr. Tatsuta himself drew about 300 of them and he said there were a bull and kangaroo design he personally liked but those got rejected (we’ll get there). 

The image above is an unused koala girl whom he and the other artists found funny and couldn’t stop laughing at how terrible and dumb it looked. Tbh, they were kinda right lol. Given how slow koalas are, the image of a humanoid marsupial with boobs running towards you is fucking hilarious.

Anteater dude. Probably would have played like a mix between Bakuryu and Busuzima. Mr. Yamakawa thought it looked similar to the former. Speaking of which.......

Early design for Bakuryu. Seems like the mole was going to have ears and a tail. Actually, I’ve always wondered why the Bakuryus didn’t have tails when moles irl do have visible ones. Unless there’s a breed of mole that doesn’t, in which case I’m not aware of. The concept of a 2nd Bakuryu was also apparently already thought up at this time (idk if in the form of a clone, brother, student, etc.) even when Mr. Tatsuta wasn’t involved much in the later games so it’s nice to know that Kakeru/Kenji was not merely an afterthought haha.

Here are 2 very early concept art of Alice. In the 1st one, she looks more mature and edgy. The design/aesthetic may have been recycled into Nagi’s in BR4 (especially the tube top). In the 2nd one, she doesn’t have pigtails since her hair is short and instead wears a giant bow to emulate bunny ears. Very shoujo-esque.

This is the rejected bull design Mr. Tatsuta mentioned and next to it an early bat zoanthrope. The artist had already thought up some ideas on how they were going to fit in the game. The bat was of course used as the basis for Jenny’s beast form later on. There is also the bull zoanthrope’s human form. The character would be Native American it looks like. Bull guy here had been shown before in concept art included in the BR1 game.

A black panther woman (literally lol). It looks like she could have been a black character (probably the first and only in the series unless you count Greg). Also, if this character was approved, we’d have gotten even more cats in the roster.

Squirrel girl, elephant man, and goat lady. The first one looks kinda like a monkey girl (which would be super cute), elephant obvs became Ganesha later, and the goat lady looks more like a demon/satyr to me. This would actually be cool and does fit in with the mythos as shown in the games and the “BR: The Fang” manga i.e., fantasy creatures such as mermaids, dragons, and phoenixes. 

Kangaroo zoanthrope. Mr. Tatsuta imagined him using the Muay Thai fighting style. Eventually rejected as Roger, another kangaroo fgc, had already appeared in Tekken 1-2 years before.

Something veeeeeryyyy interesting. This is a pretty detailed design for a character that was going to be Alice’s brother. This guy was also included in the concept art feature in the BR1 game but it was not mentioned who he was supposed to be. I actually thought he was a proto-Yugo or something. Well, if he made it this far into the character creation process (past the rough sketches and onto colored concept art), then there must have been a conceptual storyline for him somewhere along the line. Judging from his appearance and fashion sense (heh), he’s definitely related to Alice.

Additionally, the red eyes and rabbit-like face probably means that he too was going to have a rabbit beast form; maybe even a hare. I guess he was scrapped since having 2 bunnies would’ve been redundant. I wonder how Alice’s backstory might’ve been had her brother existed. Would she have been adopted into the Nonomura family? Was there going to be some plot where she would be looking for him, thinking she lost her family? Who knows. One thing I do know however, is that he’d butt heads with Yugo since he wouldn’t be keen on his sister dating a *gasp* predator.

Now, I think it would be awesome if this character is introduced in a potential reboot/new installment! They could say Alice didn’t know he was alive, or that he stayed away to keep her safe, seeing as she was already happy with the Nonomuras and relegated himself to watching over her in the shadows. Seriouslyyyy the potential is enormous and I’m hoping something will be done with scrapped concepts like this. (Plus, this guy reminded me of the genderbend Alice fanart I did so long ago. I guess male Alice wasn’t too far off after all).

And lastly, Alice in her sailor fuku (human and beast form). Mr. Tatsuta said this was how he imagined she looked like in that costume.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

That’s all for now! It’s really interesting to see all this concept art and trace back where some designs carried over into later installments of the series. After going through all of them, I yearn even more for another Bloody Roar game! A reboot would be great and some of the rejected designs could be used too. Or continuation with new characters and a bigger roster; that would be even more amazing. Anyway, I thought I should share these sketches by some of the original Raizing/Eighting staff and keep the interest in BR going. We may get something; in regards to Konami trademarking the brand name last year, we just have to wait and see.

[recurring-polynya]

Your thoughts and headcannons on Nemuri Hachigou because I don't think she gets talked about enough, when in reality she's pretty interesting, she's essentially, a blank slate, Mayuri's second chance that I don't think he feels like he deserves. She's Nemu but she isn't and I think people(especially Mayuri) forget that a lot, that's a fascinating position to be in.

Puttin’ this under a cut because I’m gonna say some unkind things about Mayuri and I do not want to cause any distress to the many lovely people on this website who delight in his horrible antics.

This is not so much a headcanon so much as a thing I came up with for fanfiction purposes, but it’s all I got.

Right. So, like I said, I despise Mayuri. I just hate him. I understand that he appeals to some people, but I strongly dislike the dude and go to exorbitant lengths to avoid him ever appearing in my fanfic.

Additionally, I do not vibe with Nemu 7. She registers as not-a-person for me, she’s basically an extension of Mayuri himself. Don’t get me wrong, I find Mayuri’s treatment of her to be vile and I wish someone would take her away from him, but she comes off as very robotic to me. She is conscious, but she is not an independent being, if that makes sense. She is not a real girl. It’s funny that Mayuri keeps talking about how advanced she is, because clearly he means only her cognitive and fighting abilities. In terms of recreating a person, she’s incredibly primitive compared to the other mod souls we see. Take Kon, for example, who has a fairly limited powerset, but is never presented as less of a soul than any of the other characters. An even more interesting example is Ururu and Jinta. Ururu is described as being older than Jinta, and she is clearly “less human�� than him-- she has less affect, she shifts into a distinct “attack” mode, etc, which implies that Jinta represents advances in mod soul technology. It’s notable that Urahara and Tessai and even Renji, in the canon scene where he protects the Shouten kids, never treats them as anything less than people. The contrast with the way Mayuri treats Nemu is stark. He likes that her feelings and personality are limited, he sees this as a feature.

I was completely unmoved by the entire chapter where Nemu died. Her sacrifice did not come across to me as anything indicating growth or humanity-- in every battle she's ever been in, she nearly dies because Kurotsuchi tells her to. She simply prioritizes Mayuri over herself. She always has. It’s simply the logical extension of her programming. A lot of people say they would have preferred Nemu to live and Mayuri to die and for sure I would have *preferred* that, but I have never seen Nemu as enough of a character to be worth rooting for. Like, at least Uryuu would have gotten some satisfaction form killing his clown ass, and that might have convinced me for at least half a second that he actually was on the side of the Quincy.

Caveat: if some talented fanficcer wants to write a short novel on Nemu discovering her humanity etc etc, I’m all for it, I’m just saying that canon hasn’t given us anything to suggest she would do more than just shut down without Mayuri to tell her what to do.

Onto Nemuri 8. I can’t believe they let Mayuri have another one. It makes my blood boil. The dude is an on-screen abuser and Kubo had the gall to try to make me feel sorry feel him (I did not) and then gave him another one.

So, I took her away from him.

I mentioned earlier that I go to great lengths to keep Mayuri the hell out of my fanfic, and usually the way I do that is to have my characters go through Akon whenever they have to deal with Squad 12. I think I started doing this because Akon is sort of weirdly familiar with Renji and Rukia in the TYBW, but I have projected all over him and he’s mine now. The way I assume Squad 12 functions, based on my career in scientific programming, is that Mayuri is like a primary investigator-- he's the Big Ideas guy and he spends a lot of time doing wholly self-directed research. He’s the face of Squad 12, so he has to go talk to the Captain-Commander and beg for money and defend blowing things up, but when it comes to science stuff, he does what he wants. Nemu is the lieutenant, and I think she handles most of the usual lieutenanting-- paperwork, meetings, etc., but I think Mayuri takes up a lot of her time by using her as a personal lab assistant on his wacky projects. There's nothing wrong with this, but I think in a lot of squads, the lieutenant is responsible for the day-to-day running of the squad and spends a lot of time dealing with their subordinates and other lieutenants. Nemu, instead, focuses on her captain. Now, the rest of the Gotei counts on Squad 12 for a lot actually-- gigai, Hollow tracking, Dangai monitoring, etc. etc. From the point of view of most science people, this stuff is mundane-- it’s all application, not development, and all the difficulty is in the twitchy little details. It’s frustrating and it’s unrewarding and you never get credit for it, and it is vitally important. There is a certain kind of science professional that makes a career out of this. They usually have master's degrees instead of PhDs, and they are usually tragically underpaid and underappreciated for what they do. In the real world, without these people, you wouldn’t have mass vaccination sites or weather data on your phone or cute li’l robots landing on other planets. In Bleach, these are the people keeping soul reapers alive in the field. And in my mind, this is Akon’s department.

So here’s the headcanon:

After Nemu’s death, Mayuri has so much sad clown pain about it that he wants another robot child poste-haste, but can’t bring himself to do the actual work, so he shoves it off onto Akon, with a list of the design specs he wants. The last one was pretty good, Akon can handle a few minor upgrades, it doesn’t need his personal hand in it. Thinking about going through all that work again just pisses him off, honestly. What a waste!

And Akon's like, yeah, cool, fine. It was heavily implied that he did a lot of the work on Nemu 7, it's just a matter of digging out his old notes and cleaning out some vats.

Except that, right around the same time, Rukia and Renji decide to have a baby.

Babies are super rare in the Gotei, and it’s not like those stuffy nobles are gonna let Akon look at their precious offspring. But Rukia is a rank weirdo, and Akon is their pal, so she’s always like “I hear they have these things in the Living World where you can pee on a stick and tell if you’re pregnant, can you make me one?” and Akon’s brain goes, “Wow, what even is the first detectable sign of a newly formed soul, this is very interesting.” So, at the same time he’s trying to grow a new and improved Nemu, he’s got access to the developing fetus of two captain-class shinigami. So when he has to pick between eight good candidate embryos to move to the next vat, he picks… not the one with the strongest reiatsu signature, like they did last time, but the one whose reiatsu looks the most like a real baby.

Akon reminds me of a lot of programmers I know, so I always sort of headcanon him as particularly interested in whatever passes for programming in Squad 12, and I think he takes special interest in revamping Nemu’s artificial intelligence system, which is primarily based on taking in information about the world and building up a realistic personality based on people she observes. In particular, it gives extra weight to “people who resemble her”. Nemu 7 was raised by Squad 12, so she came up very Squad 12, just like Mayuri wanted. Unfortunately, toddler Hachigou Nemuri’s algorithm unexpectedly decides that she has much more in common with toddler Abarai Ichika than any of the adult soul reapers around her.

Nemuri 8 is a very successful sample in terms of power and intelligence but she’s also very boisterous, and the rest of Squad 12 is like “Akon do something” so Akon takes drastic measures: he asks Renji for parenting advice. Distressingly, Renji is full of useful ideas like “tire her out” and “only fight the important battles” and “we’re signed up for baby yoga, you wanna start comin’ to baby yoga? Your back is gonna thank you.”

Akon didn't mean to let them hang out so much, but Ichika is a very useful data point and also if he takes Nemuri over to the Abarai house, the girls will entertain themselves (i.e. chew on each other) long enough for him to have a beer with Renji and Rukia and honestly my man really needs that beer.

I don’t think Akon thinks of himself as Nemu’s dad past the first time when she calls him ‘Daddy’ and he corrects her (she only did it because that’s what Ichika calls Renji, very predictable quirk of her programming). She’s just a work project. She’s not even his project, she’s Mayuri’s project, he’s just handling the little details. Fathering just happens to be an adjacent field of study that he’s found to contain a number of very useful best practices.

I would prefer not to get into the detail of the physical abuse that Mayuri uses against Nemu 7, but I would like to think that Akon finds ways to protect Nemuri 8 from the same, or barring that, maybe this is what finally drives Akon to murder Kurotsuchi and become Squad 12 captain himself.

Other Nemuri Headcanons:

Her favorite book is Rejection of the Twin Fishes!, Captain Ukitake’s posthumously published children’s book.

She prefers to be called “Nemuri” over “Nemu.”

Nemuri’s second favorite person in Squad 12 after Akon is Rin, because he always has candy. Rin actually likes having someone to share his hobby with and helps her make a World of the Living Snack Bucket List. When other shinigami come in for gigai, Nemuri constantly tries to con them into bringing something back for her.

Rukia teaches her to cuss, but tells her never to do it around Akon. Nemuri never actually cusses around anyone, but really enjoys having Forbidden Knowledge.

Speaking of Forbidden, she is mildly obsessed with Urahara, even though she’s never met him. She’s constantly on the lookout for thumbprints of his work in modern Squad 12 technology.

The one thing she does have in common with Mayuri is an absolutely batshit personal aesthetic. She starts painting her face as a tween and is somewhat inconveniently both into piercings and inflatable outfits.

The true proof that she has surpassed her predecessor, at least in terms of humanity, is that she is able to learn the name of her zanpakutou.

Oh, if you want to read any of my fanfics with Nemuri, here's one where she and Ichika play football and here's one where she tries to con Byakuya into buying her shaved ice. I really like writing Nemuri hanging out with Byakuya because I think an adult man who navigates social settings via rigid system of etiquette and class hierarchy and a small child with a pile of Markov chains for a brain would be natural friends.

[halfusek]

I have a random theory. The end of Abomination, Joey trying to.... y’know and Bendy makes him the ink demon, is that canon? Cause in chapter 5 he reveals he couldn’t d!3 but by only the end reel. Also in a hidden line from Henry as Ink Bendy is turning into Beast Bendy, Henry says “Joey?” At the ink demon. Could it be the reason why he has one human hand and the other is cartoon like? that Joey is actually the ink demon? That Joey tried to... y’know and couldn’t d!e so Bendy “helped” him and turned him into the Ink Demon? I dont know this just popped in my head and my brain thinks it’s canon-

Okay, so, to answer this ask to the best of my ability I’m gonna divide it to a few sections.

I would like to call the whole thing “Bendy canon is confusing and nothing is certain, and to have a coherent interpretation of the canon you need to either have some reaching conclusions or ignore things that are vague or suspicious”.

tldr: What you’ve said in this ask was more or less also my theory and why i made Abomination in the first place.

[Everything’s under the cut because I went off.]

1. Joey is the Ink Demon theory before Chapter 5 came out.

I’m not gonna waste time here trying to explain why we thought Joey could have been the Ink Demon when you can just read @adobe-outdesign​ ‘s post about it.

Whether you liked this theory or not you gotta admit it was very reasonable, connected Joey’s speech about cheating death with the wheelchair and Ink Demon’s bad foot. And it wasn’t like a person becoming a cartoon wasn’t a thing already: the game made it very clear that Susie became (Twisted) Alice.

However, this theory relied on Joey straight up being the Ink Demon.

Because you have character’s motivation, design and story all coming together:

Joey dying and being in a wheelchair -> Joey wants a perfect Bendy and not to die -> Joey becomes an ink creature but it goes wrong because he’s not a perfect fit -> The Ink Demon is born and has Joey’s bad foot and in general very human anatomy

But up until Chapter 5 we didn’t know if Joey was still “alive”, and an assumption we had to make for this theory to make most sense is that he’s dead but died as the last person or one of the last (because someone had to have made all those murders and other people were less likely except for Sammy perhaps).

If you didn’t want to accept this reasoning for Joey to be the Ink Demon you had to ignore the Ink Demon’s bad leg, a literal arrow with “Demon” written on it pointed at Joey’s audiolog and things like that. Of course all theories are valid, I’m just talking about how evidence is collected here, how some evidence supports theories and how some get in their ways.

2. Chapter 5 comes out.

Chapter 5′s release shed a lot of new light on the Ink Demon’s creation:

- he’s soulless,

- he was the first attempt of making an ink figure,

- he was the last and only Bendy attempt.

And on Joey:

- he was still there fine and dandy when the Ink Demon got created, acting all disgusted and disappointed about him, locking him up somewhere the investors wouldn’t see,

- he is alive when Henry enters the studio.

So, an easy conclusion drawn from it is that the Ink Demon can’t be Joey in a literal sense: Joey couldn’t have turned into the Ink Demon.

However, it doesn’t put an end to the connections between those characters, some things revealed in Chapter 5 even enhanced them:

- Joey is confirmed to be the one that needs to use the wheelchair.

- Ink Demon turns into Beast Bendy and Beast Bendy is straight up missing the foot that was bad - he additionally moves on his hands alone, kind of like a wheelchair bound person does.

So here’s some options (not the only ones but most popular and coherent takes):

- Joey is not the Ink Demon at all, the bad foot is just a meaningless design choice, or one that’s supposed to connect him to Joey for no reason (or as a “red herring” but this is not how red herrings are supposed to be executed).

Problem: ignoring a lot of evidence - because it’s meaningless due to the assumption of the conclusion.

- Joey isn’t exactly the Ink Demon but BATIM’s world is strongly implied to be some sort of a story, so the Ink Demon represents Joey and what kind of boss and person he used to be.

Problem: reaching, relies on Joey having control over the BATIM world and/or that world being a story + the “Joey?” question Henry asks is an unused file, meaning it’s not to be treated as canon information but perhaps one that used to be canon (or a meaningless easter egg/red herring, again, not how they should be working).

- There is not meant to be an answer, the viewer is supposed to pick one.

Problem: the devs are teasing for there to be a definite answer and not an open interpretation kind of ending, especially with another game being around the corner.

3. My post Chapter 5 conclusion and Abomination.

I’ve decided to run with the take that I enjoyed the most and build from here.

I’ve always been a Huge Fan of Joey being the Ink Demon.

But also, I didn’t want my take/comic to be an AU, I’ve wanted it to feel like a genuine interpretation of the BATIM canon, because that is simply what interests me most.

Therefore, I couldn’t ignore how strongly it is implied that the story of BATIM is... some kind of story in-universe.

You don’t just drop a “Tell me another one, uncle Joey.” for no reason.

But also also, BATIM being “just a story” in universe didn’t sit right with me (not to mention how disappointing that thought was).

So, I’ve started looking for proof supporting both the Story Theory and Not Just a Story theory and trying to piece them together. I’ve made a post about it long ago, and other people also made similiar posts, and hell even MatPat made a theory video basing off of these theories, I think no one wanted to just accept BATIM being simply a story with nothing real to it, hahah.

In my edition of it, the people who actually died in the real world were represented by the coffins with their names in the game - we can only find a few of these in the game and the rest are nameless.

And then I thought: ok but what about those people that don’t have coffins but do have some sort of ink creature that is most likely them like Allison Angel and Tom Boris? And on top of that there is Allison’s letter on Joey’s board which technically proves she outlived the studio, right?

So, then I’ve noticed that the number of named coffins, unnamed coffins and sacrificed items on pedestals in Chapter 1, roughly adds up to the number of characters we know (that are most important).

Based on all that I’ve decided to go with the idea that the characters dead in the real world are represented by the coffins and the characters dead in the story are represented by unnamed coffins and/or sacrificed items. That is because sacrificed items would explain why there is an ink creature connected to them without them themselves being sacrificed - as another kind of sacrifice has been made. Also - that was my partial explanation for the ritual taking place, because the game never bothered to give it more reason than “pleasing the gods” and then never mentioned the gods as an important part of the process ever again.

Then we get to another crucial part: what is the “story” world?

And here you can have plenty of takes but let’s boil it down to the most substancial undeniable thing: it’s connected to Joey’s regrets about his life. So here it can be either a direct results of his actions that he regrets, or a manifestation of his regrets.

Which is in a way... similiar to the Ink Demon/Joey dilemma.

Direct result or some sort of symbolism, manifestation.

Then the thought came to me: if there is a “story” version of Allison, Thomas and Sammy despite them not having coffins with their names, then is it possible for there to be a “story” version of Joey?

And the answer is: why not?

And then I look for proof. And, to my surprise, I find it.

This flashback is honestly one of the unexplained mysteries of Bendy.

Is it just a stylistic choice? If so then why are we clearly seeing Joey’s wheelchair being in the cartoony story studio?

It could be just that whatever makes Henry see those flashbacks made them like the rest of the world or Joey, a wheelchair bound Joey, has been in this story studio at some point.

There is also more complex evidence for this which I covered in this post, not gonna go over it here.

But that’s how I got the idea of there being two Joeys: real world one and story world one. And you can simply distinguish them in Abomination: one of them has more of “pencil” black and another more of “pen” black. Because I’m funny.

Having two Joeys solved a lot of issues: there can now be an alive Joey we see at the end of BATIM and an Ink Demon!Joey that we encounter in the game and who we have all of that evidence tied to.

And here’s where I come back to your ask.

This is more or less always how I’ve imagined Joey turning into the Ink Demon and I’ve wanted to give homage to that:

- The Ink Demon being made out of both Bendy and Joey and having them be represented by his different hands: a gloved, 4-fingered one and without a glove, human, 5-fingered one.

- Joey being the last one to die and filled with regret -> that’s why it’s a suicide. There is no one else to sacrifice him (anyone else would have just wanted to murder him in revenge) and suicide is a conclusion to the character development I gave him.

- Joey’s leg in the comic gets progressively worse, finally landing him in a wheelchair, his posture is not good -> Ink Demon’s bad leg and his sticking out vertabraes.

- There is also a reason why I made Joey’s death so gorey -> the Ink Demon is extremely thin, almost just a human skeleton wrapped in inky goo -> my Joey design is a tall, thin, lanky fellow who also died emptying his stomach.

- Holes in hands relate to cartoon Bendy’s gloves and Beast Bendy’s holes in hands.

- Joey stabbing his eyes out -> The Ink Demon not having eyes, the ink covering where his eyes should be -> Sillyvision = silly grin + eyes -> Vision is one of key words in the Bendy universe, very important to Joey, something he claimed he had as the main quality of his character, getting rid of his vision is the main part of his sacrifice.

- But Joey isn’t just turning himself into the Ink Demon. There already is a Bendy figure - which I have with premeditation made the Beta Bendy design. And here’s why: I’ve wanted to connect previous versions of BATIM but also Thomas’ and Joey’s Chapter 5 tapes gave me an impression that the first Bendy figure doesn’t exactly look as threatening as the Ink Demon does. So, I made him be just unnerving and off-model - the Beta Bendy design. The Ink Demon gets born when Joey and Bendy “fuse”, not making him another figure attempt, since there has been implied to be only one Bendy.

So, that has been my take of interpretating Bendy. 

It isn’t canon, we don’t know what exactly is canon.

Does it make sense? Probably more or less, yeah! Is it reaching? Yeah, absolutely! But it’s a conclusion I’ve had and have been happy with! :)

That is until new info started getting revealed which changed me from calling Abomination my interpretation of the Bendy canon to an AU.

4. The Handbook, DCTL, TIOL and BATDR.

Mainly DCTL, honestly. Because DCTL straight up drops some facts on us:

- A character can be turned into an inky creature even without a coffin: it’s what happened to Sammy, he wasn’t straight up murdered, just due to ink consumption he became his ink version. Now a coffin means that whoever died has left their body behind. And here’s the kicker: there is clearly no differentiating between the story and real version of the character. He’s just one. So it kind of goes against the story theory but not in a way that I’ve expected it to (and I’m sure a lot of people didn’t see it coming either).

- Buddy explores the real world studio which seems to be shifting: Joey’s office seems to be both down in the Administration and on top of the building. Adrienne has made a comment that how she described the studio is portraying it changing from a normal studio to this cartoony one from the game.

However, DCTL and TIOL both question reliability of what characters say and if characters even were ever real in the first place. Especially TIOL since it has Joey making up characters and lying left and right. If BATIM is his story, then who knows who is real and who’s not.

But if BATIM is Joey’s story that is at the same real so to tell it how he pleases he needs to be in control then how come Buddy makes sure to tell us he is not and then Joey in DCTL says that the director is not in control but the vision is but then in TIOL he says that he is control and ooohhhhhhhmygoooood.

And then they Keep On Giving Us Ink Demon/Joey parallels while making it less possible to explain why there is a connection between them.

And there comes BATDR, kicking the doors, that it has two Bendy’s even though BATIM established there was just one. Also Joey is Dead. Can he be this other toon Bendy now after establishing how he fits an off-brand Bendy in the Handbook???

- Problem: I built a house of cards and the devs slammed some books on the table and it fell apart.

[spys-small-hands]

7, 5, 25, and 29? :)

Ask me some TF2 related questions!

7. How many hours do you have for TF2?

According to Steam, I've got 313 hours!

5. First map you ever played?

I honestly genuinely think it was Swiftwater or Banana Beach?? Technically it was on my cousin's account because he introduced me to the game a couple of years before I actually got into it. When I started actually playing the game I'm pretty sure my first map was Dustbowl lmao.

25. Favorite cosmetic? (Any class)

OOOO I HAVE SEVERAL FOR THIS.

The Hundkopf for Medic is probably one of my favourite Halloween cosmetics (and I so badly want to get it this coming Halloween), and speaking of Halloween cosmetics, Pyro's Burny's Boney Bonnet combined with The Spectralnaut makes for a really cool look imo.

Otherwise, the Pocket cosmetics are my favourites too. Ohhh and the Manngaroo set for Sniper too! Furry mercs my beloveds :)

29. Something you love about each merc?

I think I went off the point of the question a little but oh well <3 (Adding a break cus it got a little long oops)

Scout! He's just a guy! A dude! He probably immediately pack-bonded with his team because he's used to probably being the youngest of a group of dudes and I love that for him. I think despite being a little naive about some things, he's smart and sharp, and people don't give him enough credit for that. He is very much Spy's son and people are always surprised about it.

Soldier! Sure he seems too far deep into the patriot thing, but I'm absolutely certain that if anything happened to his friends he would burn down even America itself for them. Additionally he's not stupid either! He's just a funky guy I love him I wish more people would appreciate him.

Pyro! NON BINARY ICON. I love them so fucking much you guys. Complete anonymity? Friends and a job that doesn't tear the hell outta you for being funky gender? In possession of the coolest weapon ever, a flamethrower? Recipe for an amazing character. A very "mess with my friends and I will atomize you" kind of character, and I have a very special place in my heart for those kinds of characters.

Demo! I FUCKINF LOVE DEMO TOO LIKE. He holds so much love and appreciation in him! Despite the negativity he holds for himself, if he's with his friends he can do anything! He's really forgiving too, like those bits in the comics where he forgives Sniper for the moonshine/poison bit and forgives Medic after he explains why he was working with the TFC and also revived Sniper?? This man is a treasure.

Heavy! Hnrg papa bear. He is just the most Big Brother to the team ever and I love that for him. He's got the patience of a saint and he'd do whatever he could to help his team. I adore the way he goes from Giant Man Ripping And Tearing On The Battlefield to Kind Older Guy Who Will Carry You To Bed If You Fall Asleep On The Couch (Again) And Will Let You Stay With Him If You Have A Nightmare.

Engie! Engie is valid to go feral at all times and I love that. In a way, complete opposite to Heavy! In the way that Heavy is typically seen as Big Man Shoot Gun whereas Engie is seen as Polite Little Cowboy. When in reality Engie is a feral little fucker and he'd throw anyone who messes with his machines across the map with just his bare hands. But he cares about his team too! I think he probably cooks for the team the most often, and while he isn't working on personal projects and getting stuck in the funnie little hyperfixation he's probably just milling around seeing if anyone needs anything. Probably one of the best to go to for advice too.

Medic! Random rant but if I see anyone call Medic an evil, morally corrupt fucker who does random experiments to fuck his team up a bit one more time I will seriously lose it. This guy cares so deeply about his team! He'd do literally anything to keep them alive! Not to use an example from before but when TFC's Sniper kills our Sniper? He's so confident in his abilities that he let that happen to continue the facade, knowing that death doesn't mean anything because he knows that he'll revive them and he's taken all the precautions to stop his team from dying! He only does what would increase his team's survivability! He doesn't do shitty things to them! He cares about them! Rant over I'm just very passionate about this. Anyway I love Medic cus he's team parent and he does everything within his power to ensure that no one will die.

Sniper! Just a funky little guy. Quite possibly one of the most gender. Like, loves animals? Crippling social anxiety? Very much queer-coded? Rough relationships with parents? That's just me /j. I adore Sniper so much, he gets typecast as the gruff bastard who'd gut you without a second thought but honestly he's one of the most likely to sit with you when you're having a bad time and let you cry on his shoulder. He keeps tissues in his jacket. He'll probably get you a snack or something afterwards.

Spy! Bastard dad but I care about him so badly. In my onion he's such a complex character and I'm a simple guy, I love breaking characters down into their bare essentials and to me Spy is one of the best to do that with. In my mind he's incredibly damaged by his past and just continously tries to push through every little setback because if he can just live to run another day then he thinks he'll be fine. But if given the opportunity to right the wrongs, to try to set his guilt free and make up for what he's done, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He pretends that he doesn't care but in reality he's always been scared of losing people who get close to him, because that's how vicious the spy underworld is. I'll stop myself before I ramble too much but this guy is very special to me. I care about him a lot.

[willowbird]

Hi! How are you??? Congrats on 100 sweets!

For the prompt thingy can you write some Andrew and Kevin being best friends and shit (maybe Neil as well... idk) but yeah. please. Thank you<3

Oh! You want Kevin and Andrew going apple-picking and Andrew being his wingman? That’s what you said, right? Right? (also thank you thank you thank you!)

This one got a little bit long again, sorry friends. Rather read it on AO3? None of my formattings transferred over so if you want the full effect of how often I use italics (a lot, it’s a lot, like -- it’s excessive I’m sorry) then you might wanna click the link. Otherwise!! Enjoy :)

-----

The rusticly decorated archway had a worn sign that proclaimed 'Welcome to Sonny Acres Farm!' far too cheerfully. Andrew looked up at it in disdain and then landed his judgemental stare the reason he was here in the first place.

Kevin was too used to the glare to be affected by it. "It has good reviews," he explained, like that was anywhere close to being a valid excuse for dragging him out here. The sun was warm but the breeze was mild, the fresh scent of autumn leaves made just a bit sweeter by the hint of apples. It was ten in the morning, the world was quiet but alive, and Andrew was disgusted by how fucking beautiful it was. 

"Right." Andrew didn't know why Kevin had wanted to come to this place so badly, but he was sure it had nothing to do with the reviews. First of all, why the fuck was he looking at reviews anyway? Why the fuck would anyone want to go apple picking of all things? When Andrew had asked these perfectly reasonable questions, Kevin had been annoyingly evasive.

'Are you coming or aren't you?' he'd snapped instead of giving a straight answer, already getting flustered. As if it weren't already glaringly obvious that he was hiding something. Which of course meant that Andrew had agreed to go, if only to see what the fuck this was really all about.

"So are we just going to stand here, or…?" Andrew raised a single eyebrow at his distressingly tall best friend, mostly because he knew how much it irritated him.

Since it looked like Kevin was still preparing himself for something, and Andrew was getting impatient, he only gave him a moment to respond before shrugging and striding forward. He passed under the sign and followed the path to the building closest to the parking lot they'd just come from, not bothering to look back and see if the Abominable Anxiety was following or not. The building revealed itself to be a shop, selling everything from Sonny Acres merch like t-shirts and tote bags to baskets of apples and just about every apple-themed product you could imagine. Apple sauce, apple butter, apple candy, apple pies. Apple soap, apple shampoo, apple lotion. Apple plates, apple dresses, apple earrings, apple apples. 

(No, literally, there was a statue thing that was a large apple… made out of smaller apples.)

Also, four shelves of different kinds of apple candles. Andrew wasn't sure whether to be disturbed or impressed.

The bell on the door chimed behind him before he could make up his mind and he looked behind him to see Kevin entering. Andrew looked him dead in the eye and made a slow, simple gesture at the shop, keeping his expression deadpan.

Unaffected, because he was a bastard, Kevin dared to just roll his eyes and walked past Andrew without comment. He walked through the shop to the check-out counter at the back, looking around like some kind of lighthouse-wannabe giraffe man until he came to stand before it. He stood there awkwardly for a moment before knocking on the surface and clearing his throat.

"Uh… hello?"

Andrew continued to look around the shop, discovering a new apple-themed bit of nonsense with each scan of his eyes. His brain was beginning to hurt. He didn't look over at the desk through the shuffle of the clerk or whoever coming out at Kevin's call and didn't really register their greeting in return. He did snap his attention in that direction at Kevin's response though, which was a stammering, awkward, "Oh, hey… yeah. Hi. Apples."

Andrew watched with instant understanding as the veritable catastrophe played out before him. It was a fucking train wreck and Andrew had never been more glad to be at a place called Sonny Acres in his entire fucking life. Kevin hadn't stopped talking. It was like he couldn't, and it just kept getting so much worse which meant it kept getting so much better. Andrew thought about coming to his rescue, he really did. 

"I mean, there are apples here. Of course there are apples. I mean, apples to pick. I came to pick your apples - oh God not YOUR apples! The apples that you grow at the farm. On the farm. On the farm. I promise I understand English grammar."

Oh Kevin. So that's why he's been unable to get a straight answer out of him earlier. There was absolutely nothing straight about this little trip to the apple orchard at all.

The not-straight answer in question was several inches shorter than Kevin but still too tall to be trusted. Additionally, he was wearing a sunny, affectionate smile like he did so often, the expression easy and comfortable on his face. There were even dimples in his light brown cheeks. Ridiculous. His hair was curly and bleached to a springy caramel except for the roots, and was held back with a headband that, yup, had apples on it. Objectively, Andrew could see why Kevin was being an absolute disaster over the man. Personally, he liked someone a little less sunshine and a little more lightning bolt. Or he would, if he did relationships, which he didn't. He didn't even think about them, and certainly not regarding the unfairly hot neighbor that lived across the hall from him and Kevin.

Andrew moved forward, jamming his focus back on the two morons in front of him rather than Idiot Who Shall Not Be Named.

Sonny Acres Sunshine laughed at Kevin's antics like he was being charming, his eyes dancing. Yeah, dancing. Sweet fuck. "You're a riot Kev."

"Yeah, Kev is hysterical," Andrew agreed breezily as he stepped up beside him, looking the other man up and down. "Aren't you Kev? A regular John Mulaney this guy. Hysterical." He slapped Kevin on the back harder than necessary and ignored the glare he got in return. The dumbass could thank him later.

Sonny Sunshine grinned at him. "You must be his roommate. Andrew, right? I'm Jeremy! He's talked a lot about you. I'm glad you guys came."

"Funny," Andrew deadpanned, studying his own fingernails, "he never mentioned you. Wonder why that is."

"So! Apples," Kevin cut in, apparently feeling pushy today. "Ah, we've never been apple picking or anything. Is there a way we should go about this?" 

The process seemed fairly obvious to Andrew, but he let it go.

Jeremy grinned at Kevin, bright and enthusiastic. "I can walk you through it, no problem. You'd be surprised how many people have never been apple picking before."

Somehow Andrew doubted this, but - charitable soul that he was - he let that one go too.

"Really? Fall is supposed to be the time for it though, right?" Kevin attempting to chit-chat was one of the single most pathetic sights Andrew had ever had to witness. It took all his self control not to grimace.

Jeremy didn't seem to notice though. He just kept smiling, watching Kevin talk like -- oh. 

Well then, Andrew's role here had just changed. Andrew could practically see the blue, purple, and pink hearts dancing around his roommates head. Idiot. Ah well, if they were going to do this, they may as well do this. 

Andrew sighed heavily. "Maybe you could just come with us? Kevin owes me a home-made apple pie and I will not suffer subpar apples."

The look of annoyance Kevin shot him morphed quickly to gratitude the second he realized what Andrew was doing. 

Jeremy was oblivious.

"Sure thing! It'd be my pleasure." Andrew didn't miss the way Jeremy looked directly at Kevin as he said that, because clearly neither of these idiots understood subtly. That was fine. It made his job easier. More amusing, too.

Jeremy asked them to give him a moment to recruit something called an 'Alvarez' to watch the shop for him then left them alone, disappearing into the back room.

As soon as he was gone, Andrew dropped a heavily judgemental stare on Kevin. This one had significantly more effect and Andrew was pretty enough to feel smug about that. He let the silence stretch until Kevin visibly strained with how hard he was trying not to squirm. Then and only then did he sigh and release him, granting a benevolent shrug as he strolled lazily around shop, trailing his fingers over the apple merchandise. 

"So," he said, "Jeremy."

"What about him?" God, it was like he wasn't even trying. Andrew gave him a look and Kevin sighed. His shoulders sagged as he accepted defeat and Andrew basked in sweet victory.

"He's just perfect, alright? He's smart, and athletic, and adorable, and perfect, and sweet, and hilarious, and when he suggested I come see the orchard…" Kevin drifted off, like no other explanation was needed. For once, he was right.

"For the record, I fully expect an apple pie out of this." Andrew picked up an apple-shaped snow globe with an apple tree inside it that had miniature apples floating about in place of snow. He shook it and watched the apples spin and cloud around in a murder-red blur for a moment before he looked up at Kevin. "Also, you are buying the ice cream."

Kevin sighed but didn't argue. "What am I supposed to do? I've been out of the dating sphere for a while."

"Kevin you were never in the dating sphere." Kevin's 'dating' experience included mostly a lot of pining and one actual relationship with a girl who had gotten pissed at him for being abused by his shit family. Yeah. Andrew didn't tell Kevin what to do, but he could lay ground rules that the bitch wasn't permitted at their apartment. He also corrected Kevin every time he said her name by muttering 'Traitorous Bitch' until Kevin finally saw reason and broke up with her.

"You aren't being helpful." My, someone was whiny today.

Andrew set down the snow globe. "Want my advice?"

"Yes!"

"Offer to suck his cock."

"Andrew!" Kevin looked so scandalized one would think a nineteenth-century rake had just asked him to bare his ankles. 

Andrew rolled his eyes. "Just be up-front with him, Kev. You like him, tell him. Be honest about what you want, ask him what he wants. Talk about it. Take it from there."

"What if I embarrass myself?!"

"Then you embarrass yourself." Andrew shrugged and scooped up an apple-shaped hackysack. He tossed it into the air a few times then grabbed another and tossed them back and forth. "What is the worst that could happen? Mr. Sunshine says 'no thanks'?"

Kevin scowled at him. "Yeah, and then refuses to ever even look at me again."

Andrew scooped up a third applesack (hackyapple?) and adjusted his rhythm before he landed his judgement back on Kevin. "If he never speaks to you again just for being honest with him then he isn't worth your time to begin with." He stared at Kevin for several revolutions of his pattern, the schick of the hackyapples hitting and leaving his palms the only sound in the shop. 

Predictably, Kevin was the one to look away first. Andrew gave him a moment and added a fourth hackyapple to the pattern. 

"I really like him…" Kevin finally said, his voice low.

"Clearly," Andrew agreed without sympathy. "Look, you have two choices here Day. You can do something about it, or you could do nothing about it, and let me tell you - pining is not a good look on you."

The overgrown ear of corn muttered something like "Speak for yourself" and then yelped as Andrew smoothly nailed him in the forehead with a hackyapple (those things had just the perfect heft to them).

"What was that?" Andrew asked nonchalantly, smoothly dropping into the three-pattern. 

"I said, speak for your-- ow! Stop that!"

Andrew gave him an innocent look.

"Oh cool! You can juggle?" Jeremy's sunny voice cut in before Kevin could attempt to say something stupid again. Andrew looked over and abruptly dropped his hands to his sides, letting the applesacks hit the ground with soft whacks.

"Nope." Andrew shrugged, picking up the apple-globe again and shaking it as Kevin grumbled and scooped up the fallen hackyapples.

Jeremy chuckled like he'd just made a joke and lifted up three honest-to-fuck baskets with little gingham clothes lining the insides to protect the apples. One was red, one was green, and one was blue. Andrew sighed and held his hand out for one, the just stared at Jeremy when he was offered first the red, then the blue, before taking the green one that was rightfully his. "Kevin likes red," was all he said.

"Yeah?" Jeremy looked at Kevin and smiled as he offered him the red basket. "That's perfect then, blue is my favorite. At least of the baskets. I also like green," he volunteered, looking into Kevin's green eyes.

Sickening, this was truly sickening.

"Yeah, green," Kevin offered eloquently. 

Andrew watched as Jeremy nudged the tall idiot and just barely managed not to shake his head in disdain. He did snort his amusement when he caught Kevin watching Jeremy's ass as the man led them out of the shop through a side door near the back by the desk. The door took them right out to a path that led directly into the orchard. Andrew gave Kevin a pointed shove and made a meaningful gesture for him to catch up with the object of his affection. Kevin scowled at him, but did as instructed because he knew Andrew was right. Because Andrew was always right.

As it turned out, apple picking wasn't as terrible as Andrew had thought it would be. Getting to watch his best friend trip over himself on a constant loop served to be excellent entertainment for the day. He also got to covertly vet this guy that Kevin was so stupid over and as far as he could tell, Jeremy Knox was exactly what he appeared to be. He laughed at Kevin's terrible attempts at humor, was actually able to keep up with him when the conversation turned to the misrepresentation of American History in public schools, and Andrew counted at least thirty-seven times over the course of their little apple picking extravaganza where Jeremy found an excuse to touch Kevin. They weren't invasive touches, nothing gross or grabby or anything, but they were telling. Jeremy was always adjusting the basket he was holding or touching his arm or his hand or picking a leaf out of his hair or -- well, yeah. It was gross.

For his part, Andrew hung back and let the two idiots moon over each other, occasionally joining the conversation whenever Kevin shot him desperate looks or the topic deserved his input.

By the time they were done, Andrew was half-expecting an invitation to the nuptials.

"Hey, this was really great. I'm glad you decided to come by," Jeremy said as he packed their apples into white paper back with smiling little apple-people on them. "Both of you, of course," he amended unconvincingly with only a small glance to Andrew before giving his undivided attention to Kevin again.

"Of course. Yeah! This was amazing. With the apples. And you." Dear Jesus.

Andrew gave Kevin a swift kick to the shin and just stared at him when the man winces and glared down at him. He tried to laser the instruction 'Ask him out you nimrod' directly into his stupid brain and it must have worked because when Kevin finished his silent hissy fit he turned to Jeremy with an apologetic smile and said, "We should do this again."

Andrew kicked him again, because that wasn't good enough.

"I mean! Without the apples. Not that I don't like apples, Andrew ow! Cut it the fuck out!"

Andrew heaved a sigh and threw up his hands, turning to go find those hackyapples. You try to help a guy…

Jeremy was chuckling by the time Kevin turned back to him. Andrew watched out of the corner of his eye as the cheerful orchard-tender placed a hand over Kevin's on the counter. He couldn't see Kevin's face from the angle he was at but he was sure it was as red as some of those fucking apples they'd picked.

"I'd really like that," Jeremy said more quietly.

"M-me too," stammered Kevin with the utmost class.

Pleased with himself, Andrew scooped up a handful of the hackyapples and made his way back to the counter to purchase them. Because he was feeling charitable, he said nothing about the dopey-ass grin on Kevin's face as they gathered up their apples and left. He didn't even comment on the way the dumbass was legitimately humming when they got into the car -- because he was a supportive and generous friend.

That generosity lasted all the way back home. They were just getting to their apartment and Andrew was holding both bags of apples so Kevin could unlock the door when Kevin suddenly stopped and looked down the hall toward the stairs they'd just climbed. Then he lifted his hand in a wave and said, "Oh, hey Neil."

Shit shit shit shit shit!

Andrew glared at the back of Kevin's head, willing him to open the goddamn fucking door.

"Kevin, hey. Andrew? What've you got?" Unable to ignore him now that he'd been directly addressed, Andrew turned slowly and stared blankly as Neil-fucking-Josten came to stand right in front of him. He was wearing a lightly curious smile on his stupid face, one that pulled up on just the one side of his mouth and revealed just the shadow of what might be a dimple if the infuriating man were to smile any deeper. What was even more offensive was the way his eyes reflected the light so that they looked like a celestial sea, stars within stars staring back at him, tempting him with all the things he didn't want to want. 

Not only that, but Neil must be just coming back from a run because he was lightly flushed and the pink that clung to his cheeks, throat, and ears made Andrew’s brain do a thing resembling an old-fashioned VCR when you attempted to rewind a tape while it was still playing -- streaks of static breaking up what should be comprehensible. His wild auburn curls were pulled back with a garishly orange bandana but that only meant there was nothing in the way of his eyes.

His eyes...

He must have been silent for too long because Neil peered into the bags he was holding. “Oh, hey -- apples.” That curious little smile softened and spread slightly as he looked up at him again.

Andrew said, “Apples.”

“I love apples,” Neil said.

Andrew said, “Apples.” Because he was that fucking smooth.

Kevin coughed behind him and Andrew tore his gaze away from Neil’s stupidly pretty face, glaring down into the bags of apples. 

“You should take some,” Kevin offered. “We have more than we need. I’m going to look up how to make an apple pie later too, if you want any.”

“Really? Thanks.” Neil flashed a cheeky grin at Kevin then looked to Andrew. “Can I?”

Andrew said, “Apples.” This time though, he also nodded and attempted to angle the bags so that Neil could reach in a pick out a few. He was sure the other man could hear the way his heart was playing his ribcage like a xylophone as he leaned in so damn fucking close to examine the apples that Andrew could see how criminally long his eyelashes were. Then he was pulling away with his prize, three smallish apples and one large one.

He held them up and nodded. “Thanks for the apples. See you later for the game, Kevin?”

Andrew nodded mutely and Kevin grunted an affirmative, and then Neil was gone, vanishing into the apartment across the hall. Andrew stared at the closed door for a moment then turned toward their own apartment. Kevin was standing there with a smug look on his fucking face. 

“Apples,” Kevin said conversationally.

“Shut the fuck up Kevin.” Kevin was still cackling when the door shut behind them. Fucking bastard.

[teddybeardoctorr]

Professional Environment

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Castiel

Summary: You’ve had the hots for your boss, Dean Winchester, since day one. You always do your very best to please him in any way possible. What happens when one day, you don’t?

Words: 4,270k

Warnings: 18+, Angst, Dean being authoritative, spanking, smut, cunninglus, fingering, rough sex, p in v, some dirty talk/cursing (let me know if I’ve missed anything!)

A/N- A big fantasy of mine that I thought I’d write. Not my best written smut, but meh, this helped me release my sinful thoughts and this is all for fun anyway. I hope you enjoy!

“Y/N, can you make me copies of these?”

You looked at the papers Dean clenched in his hand, stretching them out to you. Looking between the papers and his eyes, you asked, “I don’t know, can I?”

"What are you now, a teacher?"

"Not a teacher, but I can make you a copy."

"You will make a copy because I told you to."

"We'll see if I'm capable."

He rolled his widened eyes, a smirk ghosting his lips. "You're gonna get it, sweetheart."

"Not if I get to HR first."

You took the papers from his hand, smiling while he said, "I am HR!"

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but giggle. The banter between you and your boss always made the day go by faster. 

But what made the day inch by slowly was the sinful thoughts you had of Dean Winchester, the personal/work injury lawyer you worked for.

A little over a year, you were hired into your office manager position. You were a little surprised to have landed the position, since you're younger than the typical leader. But he needed a person way more organized than he was. In the first fve minutes of your interview, he knew he would hire you for the job. As he put it, you had a vibrant energy to you that needed to be added to the office during all the chaos. 

At first, you weren't sure how you would meld in here. Dean was a very stern, to-the-point kind of man, but he also joked around every minute and made sure you had everything you needed. It's hard to come by bosses like him.

You'd be lying if you didn't admit that your flirting wasn't also a perk of the job. He also wasn't a terrible sight to look at from time to time. 

Especially when you saw him in his full suit, like today. The fabric hugging his arms so well.

Shaking your head at the thought and not wanting to get too lost in your daydream, you typed in the amount of copies you wanted to make before loading the papers in the tray.

"You know, it might actually help if you press the 'Start' button on the copier."

You turned your head to the right, snorting at Castiel's remark. "Funny."

"Any plans this weekend?" 

You shook your head. "Not yet. Think I might just stay in with Netflix and cleaning. You?"

Castiel shook his head. "Nothing. I was hoping you'd be able to help me with my garden."

"Your garden?"

"Yes. I can't seem to keep my tomatoes alive, and you're just so vibrant, I thought you could show me a few tips."

Elbowing his arm, you took your copies and watched him laugh. "Shut up, Cas. Not so loud.”

"Come on, Y/N. It's no secret. You can let it go."

"Not to you."

"Anyone with eyes can see it."

On your way to deliver Dean his copies, you said quietly, "I think you really just want an office scandal to liven up the place."

"I can't be the only one giving this office life, even if I am an angel."

"An angel of the devil, sure."

"The devil was an angel."

Reaching Dean's office, he continued typing with one hand and reached his other one out to you for his copies. "Do I need to put you two on a leash?"

Castiel replied, "No, sir. But I will take a Starbucks puppyccino."

Dean rolled his eyes, but ended up smirking. "Funny, Cas. I need you to meet with Mr. Singer today and call some of these insurance companies. We need to get these settlements out of the way.”

He nodded with a "Yes, sir," and headed off. As you were about to turn on his heel, Dean gestured with a flick of his hand. "Close the door and sit."

A little surprised by his change of tone, you closed the door with a quiet thud and sat in the chair in front of his desk. While Dean finished typing before pushing his keyboard away, taking off his suit jacket, and fully facing you, you couldn't help but notice how clean his desk was. He was a bit of a neat freak, wanting everything in an exact place. His hands were gathered on top of it, and just by his sharp posture, you knew you couldn't have been in here for anything good. 

"What's wrong?" You immediately asked.

Dean shook his head, seeming unbothered. "Nothing. I just wanted to ask you about yesterday."

"What about yesterday?" 

"Were you busy throughout the day?"

Not sure where he was getting at, you decided to throw a bone and think about it. You talked with some clients that needed administrative assistance, held two office meetings, and organized case files in the storage room. The usual, along with some other busy tasks throughout the day.

Finally, you answered, "I suppose, but we're always busy."

He thought about it for a few seconds, his tongue poking out as he nodded. "Okay, I thought I'd ask, because I noticed our supply order was not sent, and the trash was not taken out.”

As soon as he said it, your cheeks burst with embarrassment. You knew walking out of the office yesterday that you felt as if you were forgetting something. But you couldn't pinpoint what it was, because once you left for the day, so did your work-brain. 

"Additionally," he added, "I couldn't help but notice when I took a look at yesterday's cameras, that wherever you were at, Castiel followed. And you both didn't move away from each other."

He sat silent and let it hang, thick in the air. You took it as a sign to speak next, maybe offer an explanation, but you had no idea what to say. In fact, you were shocked that this was being brought up at all. 

"Uhh," you started, swallowing thickly, "you looked at the cameras?"

"I did. Care to explain?”

There was that expectant look on Dean's face, annoyed and ready for you to leave his office with a conversation that pleased him. It annoyed you and a blush crawled under your skin, threatening to flood your throat with nerves. What were you supposed to say? 

"I'm sorry for forgetting the trash and the supply order. I can get the order done now-"

"But this still doesn't explain why Cas was attached to your hip.”

"We were getting work done.”

"Want to look at the cameras?"

You tried keeping your face neutral, feeling the frustration rise behind your eyes. Tears threatened to prick the back of them, so you carefully shook your head, daring to keep eye contact with him. All you did every day you were at the office was trying to perform every task of your job correctly and accurately. Why was there suddenly an issue now?

You did everything you could to please and impress Dean, so hearing that you did the opposite made your heart sink. 

"All I'm saying is that I think your time wasn't managed wisely," he continued, sighing while pinching the bridge of his nose. "I came in to find these things not done, and then when I looked at the footage, I was really disappointed. You're a leader here, and I trust you with everything I have at work, which is why I felt it would be wrong if I didn't address this."

Angrily, you nodded once, hoping your face looked as neutral as possible, since you felt anything but.

But this still didn't seem to satisfy him, as he commanded, "Tell me what's on your mind."

You shrugged. "Well, I'm sorry that this discussion had to be had, but I'm not going to make excuses for myself."

His eyebrows pinched together as his eyes narrowed. You couldn't tell if he was annoyed or curious. And honestly, you didn't care either way. You were just annoyed that he looked so fucking sexy when he was pursing his lips together. Especially when he runs a hand through his hair like that, a tiny bit frustrated and looking for something to do while he thought a bit.

Why did you have to have such a hot boss?

"Why do you say that?" He asked, prompting you out of your thoughts.

You sighed, biting your lips and explaining, "Well, if I say why I wasn't able to get these things done, then I am just making up excuses. So instead, I will correct my behavior and make sure it doesn't happen again."

For what seemed like a few long, awkward minutes, but was probably only six seconds, Dean stared at you pointedly. Disappointment, anger, and confusion all blended in, trying to figure out how to resolve this conflict. Truthfully, his gaze made you uncomfortable, but what else could you do or say to make any of this better?

The fact that this conversation of time management was had at all with you, an office manager, made you embarrassed in a million different ways alone.

And after all of his pondering, all he could seem to say was, "Okay."

Waiting for him to say more, you asked, "Okay?"

He nodded once and dropped your gaze, letting you know this conversation was over.

Usually when this happened, Dean had a lot to think about. Whether it was about dropping a business partner or battling an insurance company about paying for a claim, that look was reserved for deep contemplation.

Maybe for the rest of the day, he was going to think about what he was going to do with you. 

The thought alone scared the hell out of you. You didn't want to lose this job. You honestly enjoyed all of the people you worked with and the work you dedicated your time to doing here. Imagining yourself anywhere else was a bit strange. 

Losing your job over something like this would crush you. 

Yeah, you were definitely overthinking this, but what else were you supposed to think about during after that conversation? 

The end of the workday rolled around, and everyone started their departure. You hadn't received the chance to talk to Cas about what happened in Dean's office, but you knew you would text him after your commute home. You had to know; did Dean have this same discussion with Cas? Why was he so nice to the both of you before he pulled you in for a one on one? 

Stuffing your phone in your dress pants pocket, you stood up from your desk and slung your purse over your shoulder. Frustrated with how today went, you knew a good few glasses of wine and pasta were in need tonight. 

"Y/N, before you leave, come see me."

But of course, what you really needed was going to be delayed. 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you turned around and made your way to Dean's office. What else did he possibly need to talk about after making you feel like absolute shit earlier? Dean sat down on top of his desk, flattening his tie against his chest as he watched you sit in a chair in front of him. You tried analyzing his expression, wondering what this was going to be about.

But beyond those green eyes, the ones that made you want to swim and drown all at once, held something you couldn't place. 

Clearing his throat, he asked, "What should I do with you?"

Knitting your eyebrows together, you tilted your head. "Excuse me?"

"When we spoke earlier, you seemed very ...whatever about the situation. As if you couldn't accept what you did," he explained, his hands gathered in his lap. "If talking doesn't get through to you, what will?"

Now, you were completely lost. "I…...uh-"

"Do I need to discipline you?"

Thinking at a moment like this was beyond you. Not only did you have no idea what to say, as the day taking a turn like this was unexpected. But also, those eyes turning a dark shade of green, dancing with ideas behind them, made it incredibly difficult to focus on talking, breathing, or even looking at what was right in front of you.

Where was he going with this?

"Do you…" you began, swallowing thickly. Suddenly, you needed five glasses of water. "Do you want to...suspend me?"

"Suspend?" He scoffed. "What use are you to me absent? No. I need to know what to do with you."

Making your back straight, he stood up from his seat. As he slowly walked towards you, the slightest hint of a smirk could be detected at the corner of his lips. Not quite there, but almost. He was holding it back, as if he wanted to keep his composure.

Then, he stopped on your right side. Looking down at you, lifting your chin with his index finger so you could meet his eyes. You practically shivered at his touch. 

And that's when his smirk couldn't contain itself. 

Voice steady, yet stern, he stated, "I think you need to be punished and shown who's boss."

You found his hand traveling down your shoulder, bringing your purse down and flopping on the floor. For just a second, it felt as if you were leaning into his touch. The goosebumps rising on your skin in the wake of his finger set you ablaze. And just when you thought you caught a break, his hand returned to the bottom of your chin, making you stare him in the eyes as he was level with your vision. 

"Is that what you want?"

Just above a whisper and all too quick, you breathed, "Yes, sir."

He looked at your lips before diving in, pressing his against yours and drawing a gasp along with it.

Who could believe this was actually happening?

Right now, your boss was poking his tongue gently against your lips, demanding entrance. You granted it, letting his slide across yours as you tasted him. Just like you thought he would taste. Just how warm and inviting and sexy you thought it would feel.

When he smiled against your lips, that's when you registered the whimpering coming from your throat. Crimson warmed your cheeks, but he shook his head, rubbing his hands up and down your arms soothingly. "No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. I love hearing what I do to you."

Your brain had a way of turning on autopilot. If you thought about what you and Dean, your boss, were doing, you would find any way to stop this interaction and run away from the office. But his fingertips were electrifying. And you couldn't stop, because that would mean not being able to run your hands over his chiseled chest. That would mean not being able to meld his mouth with yours, feeling him sigh into yours. 

You pulled on his tie to deepen the kiss, chest pressing against yours. His hands traveled from gripping your arms, your hips, and your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hands as he groaned.

Muttering against your lips, Dean said breathily, "I can't wait to fuck you on this desk."

You smiled, clenching your thighs together. You could've swore you felt a drip of arousal down your thigh at his words.

Unbuttoning his dress shirt, he broke the kiss to look at you darkly. Those eyes roamed up and down, surely thinking of all the sinful things he was about to do to you.

"Bend over the desk," he commanded, loosening his tie.

You nodded once, but before you obeyed, you pulled your blouse over your head. The air conditioned space hit your nipples and caused a slight shudder up your spine. Then, you slowly stalked to the desk, drinking him in before you bent over, the smooth dark wood sticking against your skin.

Hearing shuffling from behind you, you smirked, giddy at what was to happen next.

Maybe he'd wrap that tie around your wrists and do whatever the hell he wanted with you.

You definitely wouldn't mind being slapped around by your lawyer. What a fantasy this had been for you; replaying in your mind ever since you interviewed here.

But the expression was quickly wiped off your face when you felt a hand spank your ass.

After shrieking, you started, "Dean-"

"I told you to bend over, not strip," he replied gruffly, massaging the spot he assaulted with his palm. Swiftly, he pulled your pants down your legs, pooling at your ankles so you could kick them off. The urge to wiggle your ass was resisted as his hand came down hard on your other cheek, stinging more than last time. "And you're not wearing a bra to work. Are you trying to kill me?"

Massaging your cheek before coming down on it again, softer this time, you whimpered, "No, sir."

He tsked, and you could just see the corner of his lip curled upward in a mischievous smirk. He was probably eating up this display of you spread out, legs apart, completely bare for him. And you enjoyed it just as much, bent over, at his mercy, enjoying the treatment he was enacting on you. 

"And you're so fucking wet for me," he growled, grinding his hips against your rear. You were sure your hips would probably be wounded with his fingers digging into the flesh. "Are you always this ready for me?" 

"I'm always wet thinking about you," you rasped before you could stop yourself.

That earned you another smack to your ass. A moan erupted from your throat, and your back straightened even more so. 

"Dirty girl, you are," he drawled, massaging your assaulted skin. "That earns you a treat."

In seconds, you heard him kneel on the floor. His hands gripped onto the front of your thighs to bring you out further. Instantly, he dragged his tongue from your clit to dip inside of you. 

"Oh fuck, Dean!" You gasped, letting your head curl up in pleasure.

His hands and tongue showed no mercy to your body. Bruises were sure to form from his hands. He kept gripping and bringing you closer to his face to the point that you felt like you were drowning him.

But hungrily, his mouth showed your clit extra attention. They made sure to suck on it long and hard while his tongue flicked against it back and forth, while his nose dove up and down your slick. All of the sensations encouraged the endless sounds falling from your lips. The tension in your stomach grew tighter and tighter as the coil kept unwinding. The way his mouth made you feel was indescribable. You couldn't even think with the way his tongue fucked your pussy and swirled down to your bundle of nerves, making sure to taste every bit of your arousal that he could.

The vibrations against your sex shot through your entire body. Dean couldn't contain his own sounds of pleasure. It made you feel even better, the way you could make him starved and show your dripping folds attention in a way no one else had.

When not one, but two fingers pushed inside of you, you struggled to keep your legs grounded. 

"Oh my god," you whined, wiggling your ass out a little further into his face. 

He chuckled, adding a third finger into your pulsing sex. "I can't wait to have this pussy around my cock, sweetheart. You feel so fucking good."

The way the pads of his fingers rubbed against your softest wall with fast precision made your eyes shut tight. His fingers curled into you and made you clench around him. He fucked them into you so fast you heard your arousal echo in his office, which only made him grunt with his own satisfaction. 

You could only imagine how amazing his face looked, focused on making you feel so good and ready to take him inside of you.

At just that thought alone, you lost every sense as all you felt was your orgasm wash over you entirely. Luckily, Dean was there to hold you close, still fucking you with his fingers as he lowered his head to suck on your clit. Even when you felt oversensitive, you still shuddered and screamed his name and rode out each wave of bliss that you could.

The right side of your cheek pressed against the desk as you huffed. Your arms folded in front of you to still keep you bent over. It was the only support your body provided while it recovered. That one orgasmed alone ripped through you unlike one you had in awhile. But you already felt the building sensation in your stomach as Dean slammed his cock into you without warning. 

Moaning in unison, he gripped one hip and massaged your ass cheek with the other hand. "That's it, Y/N. Take my cock."

With your back to him, you couldn't see, but you knew from the feeling that his cock was long and thick. It had to be, with how he instantly filled and stretched you. It was so deep, it rubbed against the most sensitive part inside of you. But you relished in it and just wanted him to fuck you into this damn desk until you couldn't walk anymore.

He thrust out until just the tip was inside, and slammed into you again. You clenched around him each time he thrust slow but hard. His skin slapped against yours, slow but measured. You relished in hearing the sound. It was like ecstasy to your ears. So beautiful that you pushed back to meet him halfway, feeling his thick cock stretch you.

Taking the hint, he grabbed your hips forward. He started slamming into you at a fast, unsteady pace. Over and over, his cock rubbed against your walls and filled you entirely. Your hands desperately clung to the desk. They needed to grab something, anything, in order to hold you in place instead of surging ahead with the desk each time he fucked into you. At this rate, you would fall down into bliss all too quickly. Not that he didn't make that too easy.

Involuntarily, you started chanting, "oh fuck," until it became a mantra that easily fell from your mouth. It was like a song, each sound becoming the melody. Even if your throat was growing dry, you didn't care one damn bit. No thought could even form with his thick, swollen cock filling you to the brim. It hit a part of you that you didn't know could feel such pleasure, with just a slight sting after. 

"You like your boss fucking you like this?" He grunted, his fast pace unwavering. "You like being fucked like a dirty girl?"

"Mhmm fuck, yes!" You screamed, arching your back.

After your last word, Dean effortlessly hooked his hand into the inside of your right knee, bringing your leg up until it was supported by the desk. At the new angle, you cried out, feeling your upper half unstick from the desk so you could push back against him easier. At this angle, you could feel his cock slam into you and rub against every part inside. You didn't know if it was possible to be any wetter, to feel any better than you did right now. 

One of his hands traveled up your back and laid down flat while the other still dug into your hip. Breathily, he let out, "Fuck, Y/N, you feel amazing."

You whimpered in response, feeling the coil about to break loose. Just when you thought the impending orgasm would draw out with his erratic thrusts, he grabbed a fistful of hair and brought your head back with it. This allowed your swollen, throbbing clit to rub against the desk. Just the friction and roughness you needed to come undone.

"Oh my god, Dean," you moaned, feeling your cum drip onto him as your pussy clenched over and over around him. 

"God damn, I'm gonna-" he muttered right before you felt him spill into you, hot strip after hot strip filling you so deeply. 

He wouldn't still and instead kept thrusting inside of you, hard and fast and unrelenting. It was only when he started to slow down and enjoy his high crashing down that you felt the pit of your stomach spark with a newfound tension. Before you knew it, your orgasm came crashing down again, causing you to yell explicits even louder than before. 

By his uncontrollable grunts, he didn't seem to mind.

After slowly rocking into you, letting you squeeze every last drop from him, he pulled out and rested his softening cock against the crevice of your cheeks. You leaned forward, spent and trying to catch your breath. Feeling a bead of sweat race down your temple. 

Did that really just happen?

A soft hand rubbing small circles into your lower back brought you back to attention. "You liked that?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "I fucking loved it. But I didn't get to taste you."

Practically yelping from the sudden sensation of two fingers poking at your entrance, you relaxed once you saw two fingers in front of your mouth. Instantly, your lips captured them. You ran your tongue along the bottom and hummed around his skin, hollowing your cheeks. There was a slight tinge of you around him, but you mostly tasted the saltiness and distinct flavor of Dean. It made your taste buds so satisfied that you knew you would have to enjoy the full thing next time.

"God," he groaned, laughing. "You dirty girl. Whoever knew you were so hot for your boss?"

SPN taglist <3: @donnaintx, @lauravic

[pip-n-flinx]

Among Us

So this is going to get long, this is going to get personal, this is going to be about prejudice and race and self-serving bad-faith arguments and flawed rhetoric. And for all of these reasons I’m going to leave the rest of this under the cut.

As a few of my friends will know, earlier this week I was delivered an ultimatum from my landlord/roommate. He disguised it well, telling me he was ‘concerned for my mental health’ that my ‘negativity was dragging the whole house down’ and that I was simply too filthy to live with. I won’t pretend I’m a neat freak, and I can honestly say that I have taken some pains to clean more since, to his surprise and delight, though its particularly hard to take coming from him.

“You’re always so down. It’s making you lazy and thin skinned” You know its funny you should say that, now specifically, because I’ve actually been on the up and up this last week and you didn’t mention this at all in January when I was actually at my worst, or February when I was afraid I was going to have to quit my job, or back during the holiday season when retail work was breaking my back... Only now do you think to check in on me?

“You left a pair of gloves, a letter, and a small wooden trinket on the table!” Indeed I have, as you have left your pair of gloves, well over 21 letters, and regularly set your packages on this same table, including today two packages to be returned to amazon. I didn’t realize I didn’t get to use the table the same way you do.

“You don’t do dishes! except that you did this week, which is cool I guess but still!” You do realize that I actually hand-wash every dish I use within 24 hours of using it, right? And that often the dishes you come to me bitching that I never cleaned are in fact your fiances, yes? Ok good, next question.

“You’re always complaining about work. I don’t mind that you vent, but its all you talk about anymore!” I have either lost or walked away from 4 jobs in this last year, and that has not been easy, or fun. I have worked essential retail jobs the entire pandemic thus far. Additionally, in the months leading up to you storming out of your 75k a year salaried sales job, I had told you to leave it because I could see that it was killing you. You got so fed up with the job that for 4-5 months before you left your grandma-paid-off-my-second-mortgage capitalism-knows-best-pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps-ass spent more time playing valorant and league of legends on the clock than doing actual work. Need I remind you that every time I stepped into your office, or simply stepped upstairs to get ready for work, you would complain about how awful your managers were, or how shitty someone had been to you over the phone? DID I EVER BELITTLE YOU FOR ANY OF THESE THINGS????

The real kicker was that the spark, the moment that started this (at least for him) was me trying to explain why racism and ‘cultural supremecy’ was bad. I had brought to him something I thought we could both agree on, that we could both laugh at. I brought him a series of tweets about how problematic Van Gogh was for studying and imitating traditional japanese painting techniques. He took this, and immediately turned into a piece of the culture wars. Now, I agree, this is an egregious example of trying to ‘cancel’ someone. How cancelling a long dead artist who couldn’t sell his art while he was alive is important is beyond my comprehension, its not as though the market value of these comes up very often, and almost no-one will ever have a chance to buy or reject a Van Gogh. But to him this was emblematic of ‘liberals’ cancelling Seuss and Rowling.

He even went so far as to say that Van Gogh probably ‘did it better’ than the artists he was studying/imitating. Now, this is a huge red-flag to me because this is straight out of the Nazi playbook. This is William Shenker, proposing a theory of music to proof ‘German cultural superiority.’ This, if you will pardon my language, is the real culture war: trying to supplant other cultures art and history with western figures and events.

Now, for those of you who don’t know who I’m talking about, this man is sexist. He doesn’t believe women are equal, complains about women’s sports, and rejects a woman’s right to choose. This man is a transphobe, questioning the logic of ‘safe-spaces’ and allowing people to change their pronouns. This man is a Trump supporter, and voted for him twice. And all of these things I found out years after we became friends. I have in the past contemplated what it would take to cut him out of my life wholesale. Despite our wealth of shared experience and our shared interests, we’ve been drifting apart as he drifts further and further to the right. And he has been drifting. He’s parroted more bad-faith arguments from Ben Shapiro and Tucker Carlson in the last 6 months then he ever did when I first moved in with him.

I have been trying to push back, especially when he says the quiet parts out loud. I try to let him know that it is not acceptable to say he would rather an unarmed black man die that risk that a police officer might be injured. When he compares the people in control of Seuss’ intellectual property and works choose to stop printing less than 6% of his published works to the book burnings in Mao’s china. When he says that its more important to protect teacher from students trolling them by changing their pronouns than it is to protect trans or NB kids. When he espouses his belief that trans and NB kids are ‘just mentally ill.’ Whenever he says any of this shit, I have pushed back. I have tried to halt, or at least slow, his descent towards eugenics and white supremacy and fascism.

It has been to no avail.

And to be honest its exhausting. I wanted to believe that he would trust me, not just to be a moral and thoughtful person, but to be educated and informed on these issues. We went to school together, spent countless hours solving homework and trying to crack games together. If I don’t know the answer to his questions immediately, he often jokes ‘C’mon, you’re supposed to know everything!” and has frequently told me that I’m selling myself short.

But apparently all that trust and all that respect goes out the window when I challenge him. Suddenly I’m ‘overly negative’ or ‘too sensitive’ or he’ll ‘need to look into that, but...’

And the thing is, he is capable of great acts of kindness. He offered to rent me a room in his completely paid-off house, no mortgage at all, simply because he could see living at home was killing my mental health. He offered me 50-75% off of market rate. He buys gifts all the time, has landed tenants job interviews, set people back on their feet, and refused to press charges for several major financial loses he’s taken on the determination that it would do more harm to the defendant than he could ever recoup from it.

But he does not extend this kindness, this generous soul, to everyone. And lately, his circle grows smaller, and his kindess has waned, and it’s been so devastating to see him slip further and further towards his own worst impulses.

I know there will be people who think I should have cut him out of my life years ago, who can’t believe we never talked enough to know that he voted for Trump in 2016. I think back then he was genuinely ashamed, or at least guilty, about that vote. Now? It’s almost a matter of pride for him. I can’t tell you the number of times in the last 4 months that he’s told me that Biden “couldn’t possibly” be as “great” a President as Trump.

And he hides behind this “praise them when they do good, cuff them when they do bad” line and I used to take comfort in it but now... Now it’s clear that it was just a front or excuse for liking these abhorrent people.

I’ve had a couple of hard conversations with some of our mutual friends about what this means for me, and how I interract with the whole group of friends as a whole, in the last 3 days. None of our mutual friends seem to take any of these things as seriously as I do, with my oldest friend even telling me that he ‘can’t imagine’ breaking a friendship off over politics.... I know I know, the caucasity of it all, yes ha ha. And it does make me genuinely worried that I’ll wind up losing the 5-6 close friends that I actually rely on these days over this horrible sonuvabitch. But all this personal venting aside, there’s something bigger here I want to address:

I sat down this evening to watch Last Week Tonight and I was struck by this piece about Tucker Carlson, because while I knew some of what was said on his show, he is remarkably confident for a man who spouts the quiet parts of racism/sexism/homophobia on TV. I have a hard time imaging a more blatantly racist thing to do then declare that a woman who suggested ‘dismantling systems of oppression wherever they are found’ wants to dismantle the American system...

And I have to say, we should go back to punching Nazis. I want these fuckers afraid. I want them to crawl back to the furthest reaches of the internet, relegated to be laughed at for their bigotry by pundits of every political ideology. I want their vile vitriol hidden away where it doesn’t embolden others. I want them to know that they are out of line, out of touch, out of time. I want them to feel ashamed, like the relics of a bygone and worse era that they are, and for them to quietly fade to an ignominious death. I’m tired of seeing them on National News. I’m tired of Pewdiepie’s channel and influence refusing to die despite all the horrible things he’s said and done. I’m tired of Ben Shapiro spouting off about a woman’s place and rights, as if he has any fucking authority on the matter. I just want these people to lose their platforms and their followers. And for me the fact that they haven’t yet is so incredibly discouraging.

I know I didn’t offer any answers here I’m just tired of being alone with this defeated attitude and I guess I needed to get this off my chest as I try to disentangle myself from the losing battle of trying to save a friend from alt-right radicalization.

[jincherie]

tentacledipity | three

➛pairing: jimin x reader ➛genre: alien au, space au, soulmate au, wanted au, smut (coming) ➛rating: sfw ➛words: 11.1k ➛warnings: none really jimothy snaps later on ➛notes:  wow this took a while but I’m back tentacle fuckers! this one is double the size of the usual update so i hope it makes up for how long it took me a little bit. From the looks of the poll this will probably be the series I focus on first! 

also; I will add links at a later date! pls enjoy & lmk what u think!

This tale starts, as any good fiction does, with a girl crash landing on a foreign planet. And, like any good fiction, it follows a theme of serendipitous happening, and tentacles. Behold, serendipity and tentacles— or dare we call it…. tentacledipity.

— posted; 17.03.2019 //  ↞ prev. || three || next ↠

Not for the first time in your stay on this planet, you found yourself once more overcome with awe at the sheer beauty of your surroundings.

Today was a day you’d been looking forward to ever since Seokjin had asked you if you’d like to tag along three days ago—today you finally ventured past the tall, looming obsidian walls that guarded the edge of the palace’s property. You were going into town! The fabled city that nestled below the incline upon which the palace sat, with markets, stalls, parks, and all the other good things you’d heard of from Namjoon and the other humans but hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing yet. You were beyond excited, quite literally bouncing down the path beside Seokjin. Contrary to what you might have expected, the male was surprisingly unbothered by your sudden hyperactivity. In fact, you suspected from the slight bounce in his step that he was barely restraining himself from skipping down the path with you.

“Where are we going first?” you couldn’t help yourself from asking Seokjin, not for the first time. Your arms were swinging and you felt a bit like a child but were too excited to really care.

Seokjin snorted as your hastened pace caused you to trip on a dark plum-coloured branch that had fallen onto the black stone path and blended in. His arm shot out with ease and stopped you from face-planting, a sheepish laugh tumbling from your throat in response.

“Well, I have a list of supplies I am to fetch. Normally a task like this would be assigned to someone in a lesser position, but since the event is so important it has fallen onto me. Additionally, it occurred to me that you hadn’t seen the town yet and might enjoy the opportunity to venture past the palace walls.”

“Aw, Seokjinnie~” you cooed immediately, your first instinct always to give in to your playful whims. You paused your skipping to latch onto the kelkie’s arm dramatically, nearly tripping again in the process. Was it your shoes? Or were you just incredibly uncoordinated today? “How kind of you, I can always trust you to take care of me!”

Seokjin let out a loud laugh at that, allowing you to cling for a moment before he peeled you off. “I know, I’m far too generous and considerate. Combined with my incredible good looks, it is a wonder I do not have suitors lining up for miles.”

You joined him in his laughter, bracing yourself on his arm. You didn’t bother adding to that since it was already funny enough as is, and in the following comfortable silence the male’s words from earlier caught up to you.

“Wait,” you turned to face the tall male, watching as his raven hair rustled in the breeze and patches of sunlight lit his skin in a golden glow. His dark eyes swept to meet yours, the light colouring them deep chocolate. You were thankful the walk so far had been one that was mostly under the cover of the foliage because you didn’t fancy the idea of being fried alive beneath the full force of the sun’s rays. “You’re going shopping for things for an event? An important event? What’s happening?”

Seokjin seemed surprised at your question. “You don’t know?” he queried, “Jimin didn’t tell you anything?”

At the mention of the male your heart simultaneously skipped a beat and dropped slightly. A surprising mix of a reaction, but one that occurred mostly because you hadn’t actually seen the male much at all since your last encounter in the gardens. Apart from glimpses caught in hallways or through windows, he proved to be as elusive as always. Something that tickled your competitive side about as much as it disappointed you. You just wanted to see the prospective alien love of your life, damn it.

“I haven’t really seen Jimin in a while…” you said, unaware of how your face was betraying your current state of perturb. Seokjin’s keen eyes caught every shift in your features, his lips pursing in concern and curiosity at the sudden drop in your mood. He waited a few moments to see if you were going to continue before he spoke.

“You are… a little hard to read,” he noted, bringing your gaze from the ground to his face. “What are you thinking, cheeky human?”

You frowned, considering whether it was worth telling Seokjin. A part of you wanted to keep your mouth shut, simply because you felt a bit like a fool thanks to your current train of thought, but the rest of you wanted desperately to let it all out and to talk to someone. You didn’t do well with bottling things up, and your philosophy was always more along the lines of the more communication the better anyway, so you ultimately decided you may as well spill your thoughts to the curious alien walking alongside you. Besides, he knew Jimin—perhaps he could offer some important insight.

You mulled over how to word what was running through your mind for a few moments before giving up and just attempting to go for it. “I… I just can’t help but wonder… You know, he seems busy, and I don’t see him much, but sometimes it’s like…”

Pausing to order your thoughts a little more, Seokjin waited patiently for you to continue. You sighed, deciding to bite the bullet, “It’s not me, is it? Is he really avoiding me? Does he hate me that much? I know I’m a little unbearable but still… that shit hurted.”

If Seokjin was perplexed at some of your speech habits he didn’t show it, instead gazing at you with a look that was somehow thoughtful and sympathetic despite the trickle of amusement you caught glimmering behind his eyes.

“I think,” he began, turning his gaze forward as he sorted his thoughts and the two of you continued down the path; you glimpsed something just beyond the trees as you waited for him to continue. “I think… you are something he hasn’t ever encountered before. I have not ever seen anyone interact with him the way you do, so I think that if he is avoiding you… it is because he is flustered.”

You felt your mouth drop slightly, forming a tiny ‘o’ shape. Seokjin continued, returning his gaze to yours; the warmth in his eyes helped to soothe the slight aches troubling your heart a little. “But besides that, the celebration that is coming—it is… incredibly important, probably the biggest one in over twenty sweeps—sorry, years. So it could also be that he is just busy. Jimin and I have received the biggest portion of work for this, since we are the King’s closest and most trusted advisors.”

Nodding, you took a moment to process all that. What he said made sense, and to his credit… actually served to mollify your worries a little. You felt a smile beginning to tug your lips once more, already over the brief stormy spell in your mood. Wow, Seokjin was a really good counsellor. No wonder he was one of the King’s best advisors, as he so often proclaimed.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you said sincerely, offering him a bright grin. He returned it and you allowed a moment before the curve to your lips turned sly. “Anyway… back to the important topic at hand… just what is this celebration that’s so big and important that the King’s right- and left-hand men are working so hard to organise it?”

Seokjin mirrored your look, and you knew in that instant that this shit-stirring bastard wasn’t going to spill a single drop to you. He cooed instead of an answer, reaching to ruffle your hair.

“You can wait and find out with the rest of the population,” he snickered at the petulant look on your face. “Don’t think you get any special privileges just because you are awfully endearing for a human.”

Accepting that you weren’t going to get any more out of him regarding the mysterious celebration, you instead latched onto the other part of the sentence. You batted your lashes, giving him a shit-stirring grin. “You think I’m endearing?”

Seokjin let out a loud groan, distracting you as you rounded a harsh bend in the path. “I should have known when they told me you were like me that they weren’t kidding,” he lamented, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head dramatically. “I am sorry y/n, but this planet only has enough room for one Seokjin. I am going to have to dispose of you… imposter.”

You laughed loudly at that, playful banter one of the things that truly sustains you. You opened your mouth to shoot back an equally riveting response when your attention was suddenly captured by the sight in front of you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes shooting wide. You missed Seokjin’s smug look at your current awestruck state.

You’d finally reached the town, and it was… beautiful.

Streams trickled alongside the path on either side, clear and crystalline and glimmering turquoise as they flowed between the edge of what you presumed to be a large, two-story homes built from smooth marble-like stone and the obsidian path. The road was a bit more worn as you entered the town, but still made for stunning visuals when paired with everything else. The area you were currently in appeared to be more of a residential one, the path leading to a large circular area in the middle of the section that branched off in main pathways in each direction. From those pathways more would split; short, curved stone that bridged the path to the front door of the homes over the stream, which acted as a moat of sorts around each structure. In the middle of the circle was a small water feature that had gorgeous water flora floating along the bottom pool, glistening prettily as the droplets of moisture caught the light.

“You are so easily impressed,” Seokjin mused, bringing your attention back to the current moment. The two of you had halted on the path right at the entrance to the town where the foliage ended and the buildings began. “It is as though you have never seen a residential section… what does it look like, on Earth?”

“Ugly,” you answered immediately, snorting at the shocked look that flitted across the male’s features. “I mean… some areas were pretty, but those kinds of areas are the ones that only richer people could afford. Most of the population couldn’t afford it, so they lived in places that are… less well-kept and structured.”

Seokjin seemed appalled at that, wide eyes flitting from you to the scene around you. “You mean to say that not everyone in your cities gets the same opportunity for housing?”

You nodded regretfully, Seokjin’s jaw dropping. “Most people live in decent places, but a lot of people live in housing that doesn’t have the main necessities, like clean water, or in a house that is falling apart because it is old. It’s… not great. It is better than it used to be, but there are still a lot of people who live like that—at least, there was, last time I was there. A lot of people can’t afford homes too, so they live on the street. Homeless.”

“That is preposterous!” Seokjin exclaimed, eyes alight with fury at the injustice present on your home planet—oh, if only he knew the half of it. “Everyone deserves the right to live in security! Does your ruler, your government not help them? Do they just leave them to suffer?”

You scratched the back of your neck. “I mean, a lot of people try and fix things but… humans have a long history of shitty actions and behaviours that is hard to undo. I mean, it’s part of why the environment and nature is so shot to hell. Humans ruined it.”

The male seemed to pick up how sad you were about that fact in particular, as he stepped forward and looped your arm with his.

“I do not understand the rest of your species,” he said decisively, beginning to move the two of you further into the town. “But I am glad that it was you who happened to come crashing down into our orchards. I think we have been lucky in only getting to meet the best humans.”

You let out a laugh at that, swinging your arms cheerfully. “True! And dude, even I don’t understand humans. It’s impossible.”

That brought a hearty chuckle from the male, and the two of you delved into another conversation as he led you further into the city and pointed everything out to you as you moved by it.

As the morning passed and you spent it following Seokjin around as he went to gather everything he had on the sneaky list he never let you fully glimpse, you began to grow familiar with the market portion of the town. Stalls upon stalls set up for trade, bigger boutiques and kiosks nestled into small buildings that provided shelter from the sweltering sun. While you moved through the slight crowd and cheerful chatter that filled the air, many things caught your eye, and Seokjin actually ended up purchasing a dress for you—not because you asked him to, but because he saw it and proclaimed quite loudly that it would suit you so well it was “practically made for you”. The vendor was a sweet elderly kelkie with what looked to be a tattoo curling up her neck and peeking over the edge of her jaw. When she caught you looking at it she smiled in amusement, but her attention was quickly taken by an elder male that sidled up to her with a fond look, running his hand across her shoulder and speaking to her in the native tongue you still had no idea how to understand. To your complete and utter curiosity, you noted that he had a matching tattoo in the exact same place in the exact same style. You knew better than to ask or comment on it, but couldn’t help but think to yourself how sweet that was. Ah, love. Marvellous to behold, truly.

You tailed after Seokjin like an awestruck little duckling, having to grasp the end of his shirt so you didn’t get lost. Despite how many stores and stalls he visited, the pile in his arms wasn’t that big. You supposed a lot of the things he had gone for were things that would need to be ordered and delivered to the palace for the mystery celebration. It was really burning you alive, not knowing what was going on, but you supposed that if even the people inhabiting the town by the palace didn’t know then you could bear to wait a little longer. It wasn’t like you were that left out of the loop.

As Seokjin neared the end of his list, you found yourself more than a little saddened that your trip was soon to come to an end. This was the first time you’d really been out of the palace and in all honesty, you thought you were in love with the town and the sweet townspeople who shot you bright smiles despite the fact you were very obviously not even from their planet. You knew as soon as you returned to your room in the palace that you were going to feel a sense of loss and emptiness. Now that you’ve tasted freedom, could you go back to what you had before? That sounded a bit dramatic, but all you meant was would you be able to resist the urge to sneak out every so often?

The answer was a very obvious no, and while you didn’t care that you were sneaking out you were a little regretful in advance for the scoldings you were going to get. Inevitable, you supposed. Couldn’t be helped.

A few of the stalls you’d passed had piqued your interest a little, but none so much that you had the urge to stop Seokjin and investigate. You were very much aware this was more of a sight-seeing trip than anything—hell, you didn’t even have any of whatever currency the Kelkie used. Actually, you take that back a little. You’d found out today that a lot of stalls aren’t that strict on the currency. Many will settle for a trade. The thing is, you didn’t think you had anything of worth to trade. Sad times in the y/n kingdom, it seemed.

Things changed when you began on your way out of the market area though, as you turned with Seokjin and caught sight of something glimmering in your peripheral. You halted on the spot, head whipping and a loud gasp tearing from your lips. Was that… jewellery? Seokjin, who had halted when you did, seemed amused that the thing that had finally caught your attention after a morning of wandering was sparkly metals and jewels.

You’d planned on just staring at the door to the boutique, and jumped when Seokjin spoke, his voice closer than you’d anticipated.

“You want to go have a look?” he queried, grinning when you turned to him with wide eyes shining hopefully. “Alright, let us go.”

You couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your face, eager to follow the tall male into the boutique and keep up the duckling act from earlier. The outside was a sleek mix of black, navy and white marble-like stone, a sign of similar material placed by the door and engraved, with the letters painted pretty silver to stand out against the inky colour of the backing. You couldn’t read it, of course, but were happy to go and investigate nonetheless. Discoveries were more exciting when you had less clues as to what they were!

A soft tinkle rang above you as the two of you entered, the inside of the store painted a smooth, deep teal colour on some walls and stark pearl on others. There were rows of jewellery along the walls and on the short aisles in the middle of the room, but some of them looks peculiarly shaped and you weren’t sure what they were for… until you glanced one in particular with a barbell-like sculpt and realised belatedly that this was both a jewellery and piercing boutique. Your surprise must have shown on your face because Seokjin ended up laughing softly from beside you.

You were startled from your keen observations of the pretty jewels by a low voice from deeper into the store. Jumping in fright, your gaze whipped up; further towards the back there was a counter, more jewellery displayed on shelves beneath, and a tall Kelkie male who possessed broad shoulders, deep golden skin and a cheery smile. He was speaking in the language native to Kilkhea, if the familiar clicks and rolling sounds were anything to go by, and his gaze was flicking between you and Seokjin. He seemed pleased to see the advisor, marks across his cheeks and arms flushed calm blue.

To your surprise, in your curious observation of his features you found he had a number of piercings. Two jewels embedded in the skin under the outer edge of each eye, large, thick silvery hoops in his ears and a piercing just below the plump flesh of his bottom lip, the metal supporting a thin charm that dangled prettily against his chin as he talked.

The conversation went right over your head as Seokjin let out a laugh and responded in kind, patting your shoulder as he said something that was no doubt about you.

You let your gaze wonder as they conversed, brought back to the present when Seokjin suddenly addressed you.

“y/n, this is Hyunwoo,” Seokjin said, smiling big. “He is the town’s main jeweller and responsible for clan piercings.”

The male said something suddenly, a teasing lilt to his voice, and the Kelkie beside you snorted. “He says to call him Shownu since that is what everyone calls him anyway.”

The male nodded, satisfied, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. “It’s nice to meet you, Shownu! I’m y/n.”

Seokjin translated for you, and Shownu nodded at you once more with a smile. The raven-haired male beside you turned to face you in question.

“Does your clan participate in piercings?” he queried, tilting his head. “Do humans do something similar to this? You seemed like you recognised some of these…”

“Yeah, humans do it,” you affirmed, allowing your gaze to sweep over the contents of the shop before returning to Seokjin. “But I’m not sure what you mean… my clan? Do you mean my family?”

The male nodded, taking initiative to fill you in further at the sight of your confused expression. “It is tradition here for some clans—some families—to get a certain set of jewelleries and piercings on their twenty-fourth birthday. Shownu was the one who did mine— my clan does not have many interesting ones, save for the, uh… ears, and here…”

You weren’t sure what you had expected him to show you, but it certainly hadn’t been his tongue. He slipped it past his lips, and you nearly fell over in shock as you registered the sight of the pearlescent metal sitting in the middle of the flushed muscle. What the hell—had that been there the whole time?! And you didn’t even know?!

He returned his tongue back to its place, letting out a loud laugh at your shaken expression. “It was funny to show the other humans that too,” he admitted, incredibly amused. “For some reason, you never expect it.”

“It’s probably because you don’t look like the type of person who would get it back on Earth,” you said, grinning. “We don’t really get them to continue tradition, a lot of people get them just because they want them or think they’re pretty.”

Seokjin nodded, “Ah, that is true of some people here too. Do you have any, y/n?”

You nodded, pulling your hair back to show him the rings and studs in your ears. “I always wanted to get ones in other places, but I was a little scared… plus I never got the time to get them on earth, and I’m not about to look for reputable piercers in the back rooms of interspace stations.”

The Kelkie snorted at that, peering curiously at your ears and nodding in approval at what he observed. Shownu’s eyes seemed to light up as he caught sight of your bejewelled ears, beckoning you closer so he could have a look. You moved over without complaint, leaning so he could inspect the metal and jewels easier. You could hear him muttering to himself every so often, fingers softly prodding and nudging as his marked shifted shades of blue.

“Understandable,” Seokjin said, amusement curling in his tone. “But if you wanted them… why not get one here? There are many arrays to choose from.”

You fixed him with a pondering look, chewing your lip. “Would that even be okay?” you asked, worried about overstepping your bounds as a foreigner—as an alien on this planet. “Aren’t they important to you and other kelkie?”

Seokjin shrugged. “They are a rite of passage, but they are not especially meaningful aside from that. Often, they are just a marker of adulthood, and which clan you belong to. Still, some Kelkie pierce as they like. You’re human, so you are not really bound to any of our traditions. I think if you chose something, the clan that possesses that piercing would probably feel honoured you chose it.”

You hummed, mulling that over. His words soothed your worries somewhat, and as you turned your gaze over the jewels and pieces before you, your mind filtered back to the one you’d noticed earlier. The barbell, commonly used for navel piercings… something in your gut urged you towards that, and as someone that more often than not followed her instincts above all else, you were inclined to choose it.

“Do you… are there any, for here?” you queried, lifting your shirt and pointing above your bellybutton. Seokjin tilted his head, something curious yet unreadable curling in his gaze. Shownu grinned, shifting in excitement as he moved to grab a box from the top shelf behind him, bringing it back before you. Opening it, you were exposed to a soft cushion displaying a number of beautiful, intricate barbells with charms and jewels. You couldn’t help your gasp.

“Your…?” Seokjin said something in his mother tongue that you had no idea how to interpret but hazarded a guess as to what he meant. “Are you going to get it? We have time.”

“We call it a bellybutton,” you informed him, and he nodded in understanding with the slightest bit of perplexment, possibly at the name itself. Excitement began to curl within you at the possibility of finally getting to do this after hoping for it all your teen years, but you came crashing back to the present as you remembered part of why you hadn’t done it before.

“Ah, but I don’t have any money,” you said, taking a step from the counter and shooting Shownu an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I forgot.”

Shownu shook his head, giving you a kind smile. Seokjin said something to him, receiving a rapid response and a smile. He turned back to you grinning brightly.

“He says that he is happy to trade in the stead of currency.”

You could feel you face lit up, before you realised your predicament in that sense as well. You sighed, “I don’t have anything to—wait!”

Your sudden exclamation had both males straightening, looking on curiously. You reached under the material of your shirt, with a little difficulty thanks to the high neckline, and fished around until you found what you were looking for and unclasped the two chains that found their way into your grasp. Shownu’s eyes lit up as you pulled the necklaces from your shirt, both gold and decorated with a different jewelled charm each. They weren’t really anything special, just things you’d once gotten from a prospective suitor and thought were pretty enough to keep.

The Kelkie chattered excitedly as he took them into his hold, waving his free hand at Seokjin as he inspected them eagerly. You wondered if he was so interested because almost all of the jewellery Kelkie had was of variations of silvery metal.

“He says this is more than enough for just the piercing—is there anything else you want while we’re here?” Seokjin translated, seeming proud of you in the way you presumed a mother would be of a child who was making their first purchase.

Excited, you let your gaze wander and your mind run. Was there anything you wanted in particular? You didn’t really feel any extra need for jewellery now that you were getting one in your navel, but you didn’t want to waste the opportunity…

Your pondering came to an abrupt end when you caught sight of something to the side, something that almost seemed to glow in a bid to catch your attention. You gasped softly, moving over to inspect it closer.

It was a necklace, the chain consisting of thickly woven silver links, intertwined with a molten-grey metal you didn’t think you’d seen yet. The silver was almost pearlescent, resembling mother of pearl more than it did actual silver from your home planet, but was firm beneath your touch. The thick chain was connected by a single large hoop of a slightly cooler silver, which was engraved lightly with patterns and swirls. It was stunning, magnetising, and upon looking at it, it immediately reminded you of a certain someone.

“Wow,” you said, unable to stop your words from flowing. “This would look beautiful on Jimin…”

Ignoring Seokjin’s look of surprise, you turned to Shownu and gestured sheepishly. You expected this to be out of the price range for the trade, but figured you may as well ask. “Would this be too much…?”

Snapping out of his stupor with a strange glint in his eye and an amused curl to his tone, Seokjin relayed your question to the jeweller. Shownu instantly shook his head, offering you a smile. You weren’t sure of the answer he gave you until the Kelkie by you translated once again.

“No, he says that meets it perfectly.”

Shownu hurried to come and grab it for you, holding it gingerly as he came to place it into a small, cushioned case made of a stone that, oddly-enough, reminded you of some sort of jade. Surprised that everything was coming together so easily for you, you couldn’t stop the big dumb grin from tugging your lips.

“You know, with a gift like that, one might get the wrong idea,” Seokjin was teasing you, you knew it, but still you couldn’t help but rise to the bait.

“What wrong idea? I’m clearly trying to woo him!” you shot back, your response eliciting a cackle from the tall Kelkie. Shownu spared the two of you a fond smile as he finished tucking away the necklace, pushing it towards you in its closed case and saying something to Seokjin.

The male brightened, turning to you with a grin as you took the case into your hold, relishing the comforting weight. “Well, that will have to wait for now, cheeky human. You have a… a belly… bellybottom to pierce.”

You burst into laughter at Seokjin’s slip up, hastily going to correct him as Shownu led the two of you to a room towards the back that you hadn’t even noticed until then. The male’s cheeks heated but he took the embarrassment graciously, laughing with you as you continued snorting and prepared for the piercing.

You definitely weren’t letting go of that one any time soon.

x    x     x     x     x     x     x

 As you’d expected, your return to the palace had brought on a certain sense of emptiness after experiencing what was beyond the walls. It had been a few days now, and although you wanted to get out you hadn’t really wanted to venture into town without an escort when you had no money and couldn’t speak the language. So to settle somewhat, you’d slipped past poor Jongin and Jongdae again and snuck to a certain part of the gardens you’d discovered a while ago. You really ought to make them something for their troubles—you were sure their life was much more stress-free before you rocked up.

You liked this little spot; it was nestled in one of the corners of the garden that followed the wall by the back of the palace, not too far from the kitchens now that you actually thought about it. Perhaps that added to the charm. Even so, without taking its alluring closeness to a food source into consideration, the spot had its own charms. The corner itself consisted of thick hedges with deep blue leaves and stunning magenta and cream flowers, the obsidian wall that marked the end of palace property looming close behind it. The earth was soft and plush beneath your feet, soil rich and no doubt part of the reason the main tree that had grown there had grown to be so tall and thick in diameter. The wood was peculiar, in that it was incredibly supple yet completely sturdy at the same time, and it grew in curls and curves. This meant that it was an absolutely ideal tree for climbing, but you didn’t quite have the energy for that today. You were a bit bummed, and it wasn’t entirely because you missed the town.

You had a feeling Jimin was avoiding you again.

Well, either that or he was so ridiculously busy that he had no time for anything but sleeping eating and work. You’d been trying to track him and chase him down for days to give him the present you got for him at Shownu’s shop, but to his credit he was very hard to track. You pulled out all the stops you could think of and yet here you were, no closer to catching him and instead sulking about your failure beneath a tree as you laid sprawled across the ground. You probably looked as pathetic as you felt.

You let out a sigh, patting your stomach absent-mindedly and brushing your finger over the slight bump beneath the silky material of your shirt. You’d gotten the piercing expecting to get a lot of pain and limiting instructions afterwards, but to your complete and utter surprise it was quite the opposite. After piercing you, Shownu had cleansed the site with a teal-coloured liquid that shimmered green beneath the light. It stung for the barest of moments before every single sensation of pain disappeared completely. You felt the flesh tingle and watched, wide-eyed, as it appeared to heal before your eyes. Kelkie medicine was truly something else, and you were forever thankful that you’d crash landed on this planet of all possible planets.

Shownu had simply told you to be extra mindful of it for the next week but that after that, it would be completely fine. The mixture he used sped up the healing process almost entirely, something you could barely wrap your head around, and meant that you didn’t have to face a lot of the possible complications you knew could come with these sorts of things. You’d thanked him profusely, immensely pleased with how good the piercing looked, especially with the jewellery you’d chosen, and had made sure Seokjin told him how much you liked it and appreciated it. Seeing how pleased Shownu was at your words made Seokjin’s sassy eyerolls worth it.

 Back to the source of your current lamentation, you’d left the parlour with a new piercing and a pretty necklace in a jade giftbox—a necklace you had still been unable to give to the person it was meant for.

Another sigh escaped you, eyes staring absently into the foliage above. Ah, nothing like becoming one with nature and disassociating as you attempted to sort through your thoughts and feelings. A classic move in your emotional organisation repertoire.

You’d come here for solitude, but despite that… you were actually feeling a bit lonely. Was it possible to want to be alone and around people at the same time? Because you were feeling that. Perhaps it was the slightly bummed turn your thoughts had taken that had you feeling this way. You closed your eyes, trying to clear your mind and start again so you felt less crummy. You didn’t get very far before something interrupted your concentration and scared you shitless.

“Connecting to a higher power, are we?”

You yelped loudly, eyes flying open and body lurching away from the source of the noise— a snickering Min Yoongi of course. You glared at the offending male, tempted to roll away and turn your back to him like a child.

“And what if I am?” you ask snidely, crossing your arms. “Shouldn’t you leave—I thought they didn’t allow creatures of the night into holy places, you little gremlin.”

Yoongi cackled at that, thoroughly amused, and took the invitation you most definitely didn’t give to sit beside you, leaning back against the thick trunk of the tree. Still, despite what the pout on your face might have him believe, you shuffled over to give him more room. The two of you sat in comfortable, amicable silence as his chuckles gradually calmed down, soaking in the serenity that came with such a beautiful segment of nature like the one that surrounded you now.

“So,” he began after a while, voice low above you. You didn’t bother looking to meet his eyes, it would have been too much of a struggle with the angle you were at. “What’s got you all mopey, peach cheeks?”

You groaned, fighting the urge to smack the male as he snickered softly at your expense. Yoongi looked cool and chic at first glance, but really that was just a front and he was just a goblin. Pouty whiny baby. He was fun to tease but a little too good at teasing you back, if anyone asked you. Well… perhaps that was a bit of a fib. You liked the playful banter he provided, and the fact he gave it back as good as he got. Kept you on your toes, you know?

“My prospective alien boyfriend is avoiding me,” you said, amping up the exaggeration colouring your tone because you knew he’d appreciate the humour in it. He did, letting out a snort.

“What’s new?” he snipped, before letting out a yelp as you smacked him on the thigh closest to you. “Ow! Alright sorry I didn’t mean it. Why is he avoiding you?”

“I don’t knooooooooooow,” you moaned pitifully, thrashing your arms a little like a toddler. “I’m just trying to give him this damn present I got him but he keeps turning tail and running every time he sees me, and I don’t even know if his cheeks are red because he’s blushing or because he’s exhausted from running away from me.”

You risked a glance upwards, and to his credit, Yoongi looked like he was trying very hard to contain the laughter attempting to climb his throat.

“What did you get him?” he asked after schooling himself a little, seemingly unable to contain his curiosity. You huffed, averting your eyes as you mumbled your answer.

“… a necklace.”

As expected, Yoongi let out a snort; it was as though you could feel him rolling his eyes. “Geez, careful y/n, give him a gift like that and he might think you like him or something.”

You sent him your best deadpan look, contorting your neck just to pin him with it face-on. He seemed entirely too amused with himself and it kind of really made you want to smack him. You didn’t even need to respond—you were pretty sure that not only Jimin but probably half the palace knew that you liked him by now. You blanched mentally for a moment—you hadn’t really realised it until now, but somewhere along the line in your stay here you’d progressed from simply finding Jimin attractive and voicing it to actually… liking him. Like, like-liking him. Oh god, was this a crush? Your stomach fluttered at the mere mention of his name, your heart jumped whenever he looked your way—you’d even gone and bought him jewellery without so much as a second thought.

Oh, this…. You were whipped.

Choosing to ignore that startling revelation for a moment, you released your neck from its twisted position and returned to staring mournfully at the foliage above you.

“Not that it matters, anyway,” you couldn’t help the sigh that huffed past your lips. “I can’t even find him to give him the damn thing in the first place.”

At this, Yoongi was silent for a few moments—you took the opportunity to bask in the moment a bit, taking note of the different sounds of nature that filtered through the air to brush your ears. Soft chirps from the small, violet-feathered, birdlike creatures that nested in the nooks and niches hidden in the curling wood of the tree’s branches and trunk; the faint rustling of the leaves and the soft creak of the thick, winding limbs as they swayed with the breeze. The patches of sunlight that managed to reach your form beneath the canopy were warm as they soaked your skin, but thankfully not unbearably so in such small doses. You didn’t doubt that if you weren’t mostly under the shade you’d feel like an overcooked meal by now, though.

“Well…” The sound of the male’s slow drawl brought your attention back to the conversation at hand as he began to speak, “Who says you have to give it to him in person? You could always leave it somewhere for him.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s the coward’s way out,” you grumbled, crossing one leg over the other to match your arms. “How would he know it’s from me?”

Snorting at your apparent view on gift-giving and how it should be done, Yoongi leans over to peer at you, albeit upside down. “Uh, leave a note? I’m sorry, I forgot you lost most of your brain cells when you crashed here. I’ll try and be a little bit more considerate.”

Whining, you smacked him on the leg—apparently the response he was expecting since he burst into laughter as soon as you did it.

“Okay yeah, you’re not wrong about that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t write or even read k-kelk—kelkoe? Whatever it is people speak here.”

You peered back in time to catch Yoongi’s nonchalant shrug. “Namjoon knows a little, why not just ask him to help?”

You opened your mouth to protest but the words died on your tongue as you allowed yourself to consider it for a moment. That… wasn’t such a bad idea, actually. Plus, Namjoon might tease you a little but at least he wouldn’t be a little gremlin about it like Yoongi or Taehyung.

“… Alright, perhaps that’s not a bad idea…” you admitted, begrudgingly. Yoongi’s featured brightened and you were witness to a sudden shit-eating, gummy grin.

“Admit it, I’m a genius,” he boasted, leaning over you to stare at you smugly. You groaned but couldn’t keep the laugh that followed from escaping.

“Never!” you refuted, reaching to smack his thigh once more. “Stay humble, if your head gets too big the few brain cells you have will get lost.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, rubbing his thigh where you got him; it wasn’t a hard hit at all but you managed to get him in one of the areas where the sensation lingered a bit. “Oh, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

A retort already bubbling up your throat, you sat up so you could argue a bit better. Yoongi resembled a smug cat as the two of you bickered, unaware of the eyes that watched from beyond the shrubbery, boring into you from one of the palace rooms that peered over the gardens.

x     x     x     x     x

 Jimin shouldn’t be as angry as he was.

Really, he had no right. There was nothing tying him to you, or you to him—nothing that staked any sort of claim over you on his behalf. Based on this, even if he found you attractive, he should not have been feeling what he did, to the degree that he did.

Catching sight of you and one of the humans from the Queen’s crew, Yoongi, wasn’t something he had expected to spark a raging inferno of emotions within him. And yet, the second he glimpsed the scene in the far corner of the gardens, he’d been almost over-encumbered with too many feelings to name; yet one in particular was sure to rear its head and make itself known.

Jimin refused to accept that the sight of you with Yoongi had made him jealous.

Ridiculous, it was ridiculous. Ever since you’d arrived here everything had been out of whack for him—nothing had gone as it should, as it was expected, as it always had for years before your arrival. You were a threat to the knowledge he thought he had of his world and way of life—the knowledge he thought he had of himself. Jimin knew that in years past he had proven himself to be a Kelkie of exceptional control, yet the second you drew too close to him, the second your eyes met his or your alluring scent brushed his nose, he felt the limbs hidden in his back stirring to life and fighting to be free like he was some inexperienced fledgling. With your presence in the palace he was living on his toes, and the only way he’d managed to save face thus far was because he’d taken to doing his best to avoid you—something that while achieved its purpose had him feeling bittersweet. Despite the barest relief he felt, he actually found that he missed you. He couldn’t believe the audacity of his heart that it longed for you even after all the trouble you’d given him so far.

At first he had tried avoiding you simply to save himself from acting in an embarrassing manner, but lately it had been for a somewhat different reason. He could sense it lingering in the air that you moved through, could catch the new sweet undertone to your scent as it touched his senses—he didn’t know much about the human cycle apart from what the Queen had once told him, but he could tell—was acutely aware— that you were at the peak of yours. You had been close a few days ago, and he had no doubt that today you were at the height of your fertility; and he hated that he knew that, that he was so finely attuned to you in a way he never had been to anyone else. The pheromones you didn’t even seem to realise you were emitting permeated the air wherever you ventured, and shamefully even the sight of you through the window had a knot of longing forming in the pit of his abdomen. It was even more out of hand than usual with the state your body was in and he didn’t think he would last very long at all if stuck in the same room as you.

Which, incidentally, is exactly what he would be tonight.

The kitchen staff had thrown together a mock-up run of the dishes and foods that they were considering for the celebration coming, and Seokjin had insisted that everyone gather at once to try them—although he hadn’t gotten around to telling everyone yet. Jimin suspected that the male missed the nights where everyone would dine together, including the King and Queen. Knowing that, he hadn’t had the heart to refuse him, even when he realised this meant he would be stuck dining a few feet away from the human that had been troubling him so much lately.

Truly, he was at war with himself—he enjoyed your presence, more than expected, but he was also incredibly conflicted. He wasn’t against having fun and the odd passionate tryst, but with you… it felt like he longed for more than that. Which, frankly, alarmed him greatly—the only person he should be feeling that way towards is his Fated One. So, what would happen if he indulged himself in you and then in the next sweep received his Fate Mark and with it the person he was to spend the rest of his life with? Would he want them? Would he want you? The prospect of such a situation was absolutely terrifying to him, and he didn’t know how to sort through the mess of emotions and thoughts it spawned within him.

He didn’t know what to do with the way you made him feel, yet each time he saw you he grew a little weaker in his resistance to you. Why was it that the heavens had decided to curse him so?

His footsteps were a little heavier than usual as he stomped down the hall that housed his rooms, eager for a moment of reprieve before he had to start preparing himself mentally for dinner. It had been only this morning that he caught sight of you and Yoongi in the gardens, yet the mood it had thrown him into had persisted for the rest of the day as he did his duties. The ugly, icky feeling it incurred within him had clung to his insides ever since—Jimin never had liked the sensation of jealousy, the few times he’d experienced it in his life, and the same proved true now. He hated it, yet could not stop its presence at the thought of you with someone else. He shouldn’t be bothered—you were human, shouldn’t he be pleased at the prospect of you being with another human? Yet his heart clenched painfully in protest at the thought, stomach dropping. Against his better judgement, he didn’t like the idea at all.

He felt a momentary sensation of calm and relaxation wash over him as he stepped through the doorway into his room, shoulders releasing the tension they carried along the walk there. The sensation proved to be fleeting as he recalled suddenly that Yoongi would be at the dinner along with you and the other humans, and suddenly he was tense and stressed all over again. A large sigh huffed past his lips, eyes closing as he scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed his hair back a little. God, he kind of wanted to nap if only to escape the stress for a few moments.

Allowing his eyes to slide open, he surveyed the contents of his room, attempting to avoid the area with his bed lest he be tempted. Surprise filtered across his features as he caught sight of something amiss, something new that he certainly hadn’t left on his desk before leaving earlier. Curious and apprehensive all at once, he approached the soft green box with what appeared to be a note tucked neatly beneath it. Tentatively, he took the box into his hands, the stone cool to the touch and decently heavy, and retrieved the note. He was never sure whether to read or open things first, but this time he opted to inspect the paper.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected when he opened it, but it hadn’t been a note written in messy scrawl that looked like it belonged to a fledgling. It was in his language, but he had a suspicion that the person writing it wasn’t exactly familiar with it. Still, he read it, and with each word he took in he felt surprise tickle his ribs and his heart stutter excitedly. The person had forgotten to sign their name but even without it Jimin had a strong suspicion as to who had left him this gift.

Unable to stop himself from opening the box now that he knew it was indeed a gift for him, he placed the note down and took great care in lifting the lid. Inside, sitting neatly upon plush cushioning that worked well to contrast with the metal of the piece it held, was a necklace. He felt his lips part as he took it in, slightly mesmerised, fingers of his free hand brushing gently over the silver and black chain and the large hoop that connected it. Even without the knowledge that it was a gift, most likely from a certain someone, he instantly liked it. It was just his style, and the fact that they’d known…

He placed the box down, moving the hand over his heart as he felt it skip a beat once more. Once more, it seemed you were proving to be more trouble than he was capable of handling.

What on Kilkhea was he going to do?

x     x     x     x     x     x     x

 When Seokjin had told you that there would be a small feast of sorts tonight and that pretty much everyone you knew would be attending, you hadn’t bothered attempting to hide your excitement at all. It had everything you loved. Food? Check. Your friends? Check. A fun family atmosphere? Check. Food? Check, check. You were almost bouncing off the walls before Taehyung laughed at you for it and you had to track him down to teach him a lesson. Seokjin had said that the food being served was all trials for the celebration that was coming, and that meant that given your food was normally good quality, this food was likely to be god-tier. You were almost drooling you were so damn excited.

Your renewed energy at the knowledge you were going to be fed well tonight meant that you were a little bit more unbearable than usual as you hung around the other humans, and by the time dinner actually rolled around you were sure Hoseok was ready to actually lay hands on you and choke you out. It was a recent development, since he’d actually joined you in your hyperactivity initially. You’d ended up outlasting him with your energy though, something that Namjoon, Yoongi and Taehyung found incredibly hilarious, and as soon as he was no longer in on your shenanigans he seemed to grow tired of them very quickly. As you all entered the small dining room where you’d be eating tonight you saw him beeline for the seat furthest away from you and couldn’t help but laugh. Did he think that would stop you? He really didn’t give you enough credit.

To your delight, even the guards you’d become so friendly with—Jongdae and Jongin as you recalled—had been allowed to sit in. The look they’d shared when they caught sight of you almost had you in stitches—especially since they were still under orders from Jimin to be keeping an eye on you and you’d slipped out of their watch earlier in the morning to spend the rest of the day free.

“Aren’t you two meant to be watching her?” Joy asked, having arrived at the same time they did and bearing witness to the fact it was without you in tow. She was more amused than anything, knowing firsthand how crafty you were, but still the two of them sputtered for an excuse.

“She—she is just so slippery!” Jongin burst, eyes wide and marks flaring a sheepish peach. “Every time we think she will cooperate, we turn our backs for a single second and when we look back she is gone!”

“And she tricks us,” Jongdae’s voice came out in a whine, pointing his finger at you accusingly. You smiled at him. “She leaves sweets and treats to distract us and escapes in our moment of weakness.”

You couldn’t hide your big, shit-eating grin because honestly you found the whole thing really funny—despite the fact you felt a little bad for deceiving them—and were having a riot listening to them talk.

“They’re gifts,” you said, no effort at all put towards sounding even remotely convincing. “Sometimes you look hungry so I leave things for you to eat, like a good friend.”

The two guards sputtered and you could hear Taehyung choking on a laugh behind you, snickering to Namjoon. Joy rolled her eyes, an affectionate smile tugging her lips, before she stepped in and urged everyone to take a seat since the food would be coming soon.

It didn’t take you long to notice that Seokjin and Jimin hadn’t arrived yet—oh the shock of excitement that bolted through you when you realised you’d finally see him—but almost as soon as you took note of that there were two familiar figures entering through the double doors and Taehyung was cheering.

“Yes! Just in time for the food to arrive—hurry and sit down we’re all hungry!”

You laughed, Yoongi snickering softly from beside you. Taehyung seemed to be right; as soon as Jimin and Seokjin entered from one door the kitchen staff entered from the other. The two hurried and took their seats, Seokjin across from you and Jimin next to him. You tried not to stare, you really did, but he just looked so good and it had been so long since you’d seen him—you kind of wanted to sob at how attractive he was. He’d donned a deep, deep purple set of silken clothes today, and when combined with his raven hair, the dangly silver earrings hanging from his lobes, the chains around his wrists and the rings sitting firmly and contrasting against golden skin on his fingers… it was a knockout look. Unable to help it, your gaze strayed momentarily to his neck on a curious whim—you wished the spike of disappointment within you wasn’t quite as prominent as it was. He wasn’t wearing it… that was fine. You hadn’t expected him to, really. Perhaps he just hadn’t gone to his room yet—

No, it was better if you didn’t think too hard about it. It was out of your hands now, you’d done your part in leaving it for him. What he did with it… technically didn’t concern you. You ignored the slight throb your heart gave and turned to the plates being placed along the table.

As the food was served there was inevitable chatter that followed, and you were surprisingly caught up with laughing at Seokjin and Yoongi, and occasionally Jongin, who was unfortunate enough to be seated on your other side and kept getting startled into dropping his food whenever you moved too quickly. Had you really traumatised them so much with your fleeing escapades?

Your natural inclination was to look at Jimin for the duration of the dinner, and you did look at him a fair bit, but for some reason tonight felt… different. It didn’t take long for you to notice that he was sitting stiffly in his seat, entire body tense, and each chew was accented with a clenched jaw that honestly had your stupid heart skipping a beat. Fuck, he was even hotter than usual. The nerve? The audacity? Right here in front of your… what was that on your plate, it looked to be a salad of sorts…?

Despite how your gaze was naturally drawn to the raven-haired male, every time you glanced towards him your attention was quickly drawn away by Yoongi or one of the others. And the second you turned from him, you could have sworn you felt eyes boring into your form with alarming intensity.  You didn’t ever catch him, he was always looking back to his plate or at someone else when you turned back, but the butterflies in your stomach and your gut feeling told you that the stare belonged to him. The thought excited you, but you were also confused. His usual response to your presence was fluster and embarrassment, sometimes he was even a little grumpy. You didn’t know what changed, but something had, and you were eager to poke and prod and find out exactly what had caused his behaviour to shift ever so slightly.

You felt the stare intensify whenever you leant closer to Yoongi, or the guard beside you. The more you experimented throughout dinner, the tenser Jimin seemed to become. You caught Seokjin shooting him looks that seemed to be a combination of concerned, knowing and amused, but he never voiced his concern out loud. He cracked a few jokes that had Jimin’s lips twitching into a slight smile at several points throughout the meal, but his features consistently fell back into their tense default.

By the time the meal was over and people began cleaning dishes up and filtering out of the room, you were absolutely itching to pounce on Jimin and resume your usual antics of annoying and flustering the hell out of him. You hadn’t seen him in a while, so the urge had built up and you were keen to make up for lost time. A part of you protested softly, the same part that stung a little more at each little sign of rejection he seemed to display, but it was easily silenced

You had a feeling that Jimin was going to try and make a run for it, and your suspicions were confirmed when not even a minute after he helped stack the plates nearest him, he was standing from his chair and bowing slightly to the table.

“Thank you very much for the meal,” he directed this to the staff, offering those that had come over a soft smile. You cursed the small morsel of jealousy that wormed its way into existence at that. “I think this line-up will work well for the event. Perhaps one or two more fruit dishes? They seem to be a favourite.”

The staff nodded eagerly, taking in his advice, and he offered them another smile before he turned on his heel and uttered that he was going to retire for the night. You could see how tensed the muscles in his back were as he walked away, posture stiff and straight. By the time you realised he was about to get away and you launched from your seat, he was already moving through the doorway. You had to act fast!

“Thank you for the meal, it was delicious—as usual!” you burst, grinning widely. The kitchen staff, well-acquainted with you by now, rolled their eyes fondly at your next words. “I will give you a full written report of my thoughts and bring it later, thank you!”

With that you ruffled Jongin and Yoongi’s hair, and then you bolted from the table, only nearly tripping once. You could hear Seokjin cracking a joke at your expense as you left but for once, ignored it. It pained you to do so, but you had a bigger objective in mind right now.

Quicker on your feet than you anticipated, you zipped through the open doorway and burst into the darkened hallway just in time to catch sight of Jimin while he was still barely visible. The lights hadn’t turned on in this hall yet, and you made sure to watch a little where you were going so that you didn’t fall flat on your face in front of your apparent crush.

You were certain he heard you coming, but just in case he didn’t you decided to announce your presence very loudly. “Jimin! Wait up, peach cheeks!”

Visibility wasn’t great in the hallway, yet you still managed to catch it as the male stiffened and halted for a moment, apparently surprised. Perhaps he hadn’t heard you coming?

When the male turned to face you, you felt your heart stutter before skipping several beats and setting off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. His jaw was clenched once more, muscles along his throat shifting as he turned his head, and his marks glowed deep rosy red—but what had your knees wobbling slightly as you ran up to him was his eyes, dark and molten and absolutely boring into you from where he stood. His tongue darted to wet his lips before he spoke, a motion you couldn’t help but trace with your eyes.

“Do you need something, pesky human?” he inquired without any real bite, and you hated that even a nickname as dumb as that had your heart leaping when paired with the velvet tone of his voice. God, you’d really starved in the days he hadn’t been around, huh.

“Absolutely,” you answered, face straight save for the twitch of your lips. “It’s something you can help me with, actually.”

Jimin tilted his head, lids lowering ever so slightly as he held your gaze. You nearly stuttered at the way it made your stomach dip. “Oh? And what is that?”

“I’m very desperately in need.” You stepped closer, just barely noticing him stiffen further. You felt your grin spread across your features, unable to contain it any longer as you leant forward, barely a foot from his face, and poked his side softly. You felt a little bit of shame at what you were about to say but pushed it away—go big or go home. “Very desperately in need of you, Mr Jimin.”

There was a beat of silence as the kelkie registered what you said, before shifted into a reaction. Except, it wasn’t anything like the pink-cheeked flustered reaction you expected.

You had barely a moment to catch the shift in his gaze, the smoulder of new fire behind his eyes, before he was stepping forward suddenly, his hands moving so fast you almost didn’t see where they went until you felt them grip your hips. A gasp escaped you as you were moved backwards quicker than you could keep up with and your back pressed to cool stone, Jimin’s front pressed against your own. Your heart leapt into action, thudding unevenly against your ribcage as you stared at him with wide, shell-shocked eyes. Fuck. Fuck what the fuck—

“You need me?” his voice was low and raspy yet still ran against your ears like rich velvet. Your stomach dipped, arousal lighting your veins on fire. His hands gripped your hips tightly, one shifting up to grasp your waist; you curved into him instinctively. “You shouldn’t say such things so carelessly.”

Your heart was racing and your mouth was open in shock—you had no idea how to even begin processing what was happening, but he didn’t wait for your mind to catch up. His fingers dug into your supple flesh enough that the slight ache melted into pleasure and had a whine building in your throat—a whine that shifted into a squeak as he pressed you further into the wall and rolled his hips against yours, sending molten desire shooting along your spine and throbbing at your core. Your pulse was out of control at this point, and you could barely catch sight of his features in the darkness.

His thumb brushed up, pressing into the flesh over your ribs through the shirt and nearing dangerously close to the underside of your breast; you felt your breath catch in your throat. It was as though your mind was filled with nothing but static and acute awareness of just how close he was, brain unable to track anything else.

“You shouldn’t push so hard, little human, I’m not sure you’d like the end result,” his voice grew lower, tone laced with such promise that it had a shiver rolling down your spine. He leant closer, full lips brushing your cheek before they moved to your ear. You felt something foreign brush against your leg, dragging up the side of your thigh before brushing the skin where your shirt had ridden up. You jerked at the slick sensation, a gasp tearing from your lips. Jimin’s voice returned, lips tickling your ear as he spoke and making your knees weak.

“You are not the only one that can play, petal.”

And then just like that he was gone, cool air greeting you in the absence of his touch, and your mind was left reeling in its attempts to catch up. Flabbergasted, with your cheeks unbearably hot and legs wobbly, you just barely caught it as he disappeared into the shadows down the hall, the darkness shifting oddly behind him. A heartbeat later and he was gone from sight completely, and you were alone in the hall with a racing heart and your skin still tingling from the remnants of his touch.

What. What…

What the fuck just happened?

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::[ please lmk what you think! & pls consider buying me a kofi if you’d like to support me in some way! <3 ]::

[judehayward]

lady gaga voice slowly fadin in: ju-Das juda-ah-ah… this depressed goblin bastard is honestly my fav male muse like i dnt typically stick w male muses tht long i struggle bt................. i’ve played him the longest of them all n always seem to return to him. jst cnt stay away. way 2 attached to this absurd little man. it’s nai btw!!!! (josefine on the main). launches right in to jude’s intro without further adieu..... (u can also find his playlist here) 🧙‍🎨

「douglas booth & cis-male」⇾ hayward , jude, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he is a pisces and 23 years old. he is studying ART, living in moris and can be protective, laidback, nonsensical & apathetic. when i see him i am reminded of wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects, lead marbles instead of eyes. ⇽「nai & 23 & gmt & she/her.」

he pinterest:

me in the voice of a card magician performing on the street: round up round up pick a pinterest any pinterest!

ta-da it’s aesthetics:

lead marbles instead of eyes, a stolen hearse careening down the wrong lane, wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, bags under the eyes that are so big they could pack enough clothes for a three week vacation, a cigarette wobbling from your bottom lip as you squint against the sunlight, passing out on a stranger’s rooftop, placing sunglasses over the eyes of a biology lab skeleton, gangling around the place like shaggy minus his scooby snacks, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects

about tha Bitch:

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot

jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super Liberal n Au Naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the ONE time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was born

they just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like What The Hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work out

they were ok to him like they weren’t fully Bad bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plans. pretty absent n irresponsible. they literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they properly knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just Didn’t Care the way parents shd. they lost his birth certificate n dnt remember what they put as his middle name so he’s jst kind of like hmmmm............. n gives himself a diff one every time ppl ask. past variations hv included: jude pauly hayward, jude maureen hayward, jude van winkle hayward. says all of these w a very straight face

despite this he does hv some nice memories w them. usually he definitely sees them fr holidays. frm being rly young their christmas tradition hs been to get a bunch of chinese food like a Banquet Feast n spend all day smoking n drinking into the early hours. perhaps not the healthiest or most responsible bt 😔 jude rly likes it it’s kind of the one time of yr he feels he has a proper family

they r both suuuuper into the arts. rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a successful gallery in sheffield n san fran

(trauma tw) as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his ACTUAL parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws being responsible n looking after someone. tbh some of his parents friends were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh. basically they just were Not Nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed bt he also??? has some gd ones..... it was a strange environment bt he’s a survivor

(death n grief tw) he hd to do community service bc he kind of… hd a bit of a breakdown before the funeral of his elderly neighbour who bsically raised him bc her kids rly didnt care abt her they jst wanted her inheritance?? so he… stole the hearse w her casket still in it n ws jst like… drivin around the place sort of… tryin nt to cry…..KJJFHSFKJGHKFG i mean. it isnt funny its actually sad bt :/ in a very bizarre n jude way. he gt caught n taken in fr questioning bt her son kind of realised hw… broken up abt her death jude ws n had a heart n didnt press charges. regardless he stil hd to do community service bc it ws like taken seriously even tho it ws his first proper offence. doin it rly exhausted n depressed him so when he wsnt doin tht he ws just hibernatin in his room……. this ws like 4 months ago nw............ just some fun lore fr u all

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing he’s jst going fking wild on the keys in a trance...... i mean he’s gd bt… chill

he’s rly sarcastic n so deadpan like he’ll say smthn completely ridiculous bt he’ll say it w his whole chest so sincere.... it’s rly hard to tell when he’s joking or serious honestly. has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably secretly draw them. does NOT share these drawings w the person he hates being openly sentimental. at heart he is jst a very Sad Boy w lots of repressed issues like depression genuinely just does NAT giv him a single break bt he plasters over this w wise cracks n never discusses his emotions ever. he’s actually p decent or at least tries to b. he’s kind of like tht bit in superbad where michael cera gets rly drunk n makes a toast to women like tht energy...........

he has rly bad insomnia so he like never sleeps idk how he’s Alive straight up. please go to bed sir............. he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot

ANYWAY that aside he’s at radcliffe doing art, focusing on fine art like painting is............... the thing he luvs most...... his style is kind of.......... taking normal things n painting w surreal colours.... he likes A LOT of colour in his paintings which is kind of a stark contrast to his personality bc his world’s so.... washed out n grey............ lovs art n philosophy n literature n photography n music.... 

ummMMMMmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges on all his clothes. wandering the streets in plaid pj bottoms n dr martens eating frm a cereal box without care in the world. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a laidback time....... doesn’t rly like when ppl take themselves too seriously........ likes strange ppl thinks the world is mde richer by them n likes when ppl can jst bounce back jokes at him without being like erm. u dont make sense mate. bc frankly he can come up w some strange stuff sometimes.............. talking to him cn b like navigating a dark n bendy road without a flashlight....... 

(drugs tw) once did shrooms n woke up naked in the woods curled up in a pile of leaves. to this day he recounts this as his werewolf transformation. hs no idea hw he ended up there n when ppl r like are u not. concerned jude. tht is so strange? he jst shrugs like.............. dunno....................... suppose i’m jst a werewolf upon occasion. so casual abt it. jst truly does Not care abt most things at all..... almost to the point tht it’s concerning (sometimes way past the point tht it’s concerning too :/)

this is the desc on an aesthetic i mde of his style once n sums it up well!! ‘additionally: too many pairs of trousers, a hideous amount of white t-shirts all somewhat stained with charcoal, a jumper so thinly knit it almost looks sheer, chipped teale nail varnish, a cream corduroy jacket with a cigarette hole singed onto the cuff, vintage wiry reading glasses he almost never wears, a freshly rolled cigarette behind his ear, a thrifted t-shirt with a warped bart simpson wearing a stethoscope with the caption ‘bard knwos cardiology’ and two crops hacked that way with kitchen scissors that he sometimes wears to paint.‘

EXPERT at rolling spliffs like jst. mkes them so precise n neat....... it’s his super power. his fav thing to smoke frm is banana flavour papers.................... linking 2 this he’s like. bad w emotions bt he does try..... once his friend (maggie) ws sad so he brought her a spliff wrapped in grape flavoured paper bc it’s her fav fruit n jst like. wordlessly gave it to her. it’s the thought tht counts.....

PLOTS!!!!!

plays bass in a band which cld b a fun connection to get together??? i picture the music being like surf rock type like........... mac demarco...... bt he also luvs elliott smith n glass animals n the cure n metronomy n neutral milk hotel n talking heads n radiohead n mazzy star n wolf alice...................... idk jst like.... within tht ballpark i suppose i imagine it being................

mayb ppl he shares classes w?????? i’d like someone tht does a similar course n they hang out tgether when it comes to trips fr the module to museums or exhibits or wtever................ they both stand in front of paintings analysing it rly wrong n saying stuff like hmmmmmmmmm....... i do declare i see a, uh..... large phallus protruding from the centre of this image...... moves something in me.......... n some elderly person looking at it besides them is like Ergh. sickened n disgraced. leaves w a brow severely furrowed

someone he smokes w on the moris rooftop late at night when he cnt sleep??? mayb they’re up n cnt sleep either fr whtever reason n it’s become an unspoken kind of ritual where they always clamber out n find each other there n jst wordlessly keep them company

jude is kind of like. protective almost to a fault sometimes........... mayb some guy he’s punched......................... if they hurt someone he cares abt........... typically it wld hv been a girl he ws kind of like. affected by his first relationship bc she had a bad home situation n ever since jst wnts..... to Protect it’s kind of like an automatic instinct ingrained in him nw 😔 all sounds very noble n well bt sometimes it cn b a bit of an escalation i wnt lie

perhaps a few hook-ups??? jude doesn’t tend to sleep w ppl he rly knows bc he just..... likes it to b an impersonal thing doesn’t like getting attached fr various reasons so mayb they only kno each other via this OR mayb he bent his rules a bit..... cld either work seamlessly or hv added drama if one side hs mre feelings or whtever

currently living in moris w 2 roommates bt i’d love some neighbours perhaps..... mayb someone tht lives directly nxt door to his room n is like ://// bc he plays music loud n weeds always drifting frm his window n mking their room smell if theirs is open too................. or mayb they get on..... mayb there’s a rly mean seagull tht lands on a branch n poos on pedestrians n they both commentate on it frm their windows like david attenborough...... they’re like he’s at it again. they’ve named him n everything

HONESTLY anything if u have an idea hmu i’d love 2 hear it.......... rubs my hands tgether in excitement to plot up a storm w u all

[hiruzensux]

how i imagine Kagami died

I’ve been trying to think of a less dry and tedious format to post this in, but i really feel like i need to lay down what exactly i think happened regarding Kagami’s death, because it’s a little bit foggy canon-wise and i’ve heard a lot of different headcanons (which are also interesting and equally plausible), but the particular way i imagine things is kind of important to my interpretation of a lot of peoples’ characterization and relationship dynamics and stuff, so here it is (under the cut):

As we know, Tobirama died during the First Shinobi World War at the hands of Kinkaku (and i’m assuming Ginkaku was involved as well); we saw the scene in which he appointed Hiruzen as 3rd Hokage and split off from Team Tobirama to be the decoy to draw the Kinkaku Force away. None of Tobirama’s students liked this idea, but followed his orders and used the opportunity to escape and return to the village and deliver whatever intel they had.

Given how powerful i think Mito is as a sensor and how close she was with Tobirama, i think it’s likely she would be able to tell when he died, so that was the news they returned to. Understandably, all of the students were varying hues of devastated, but Hiruzen and Kagami took it particularly dramatically. They wanted to go after the Gold and Silver Brothers and take revenge. The others thought that was a stupid idea, risking further loss they couldn’t afford in the middle of a war over petty sentimentality, and spitting in the face of Tobirama’s sacrifice. There was a big fight about it, and Mito had to step in. She agreed that a revenge mission was dangerous and irresponsible, and she forbade them from any such action. (Hiruzen was technically hokage now, but Mito was the one with decades of experience, and she commanded utmost respect from him and the other students (and since she was, you know... obviously right, Hiruzen knew he didn’t have much of a leg to stand on here)) Additionally, she refused to assign any of them to the team sent to retrieve Tobirama’s remains, judging them to be too emotionally involved to be trusted to stick to the mission (strict minimal-confrontation; track the enemy, stage an ambush, retrieve the body, and immediately retreat. (The funny thing is, the retrieval team didn’t even need to ambush them bc the Gold and Silver Brothers just... left him there. Bc they are actually that fucking stupid. They don’t have a village to gather intel for anymore. They don’t want to carry that around. (God if Kakuzu ever finds about about this, idk how he’s even going to deal with that; the knowledge that Tobirama’s 100-thousand-ryō corpse (please forgive my numbers, i’ve never used ryō and i don’t understand regular economics let alone narutoverse inflation) was just LYING ON THE GROUND for HOURS maybe even DAYS... he was alive then, he could’ve just picked him up and cashed him in if he’d just known in time... how is he going to live with the knowledge of that missed profit opportunity? how?? anyway i’m derailing but))) ...So. Hiruzen and Kagami reluctantly agreed and everyone went home to sulk.

Don’t ask me HOW they managed to sneak out under the already-suspicious nose of perhaps the most powerful sensor in shinobi history, but that night, Kagami and Hiruzen crept out of the village and left on their own unsanctioned revenge mission. Danzō, who had at least equal suspicion and more free time to watch them, went after them.

He eventually catches up to them and tries again to dissuade them from this course of action. They argue. It’s heated. They tell Danzō they’re not stopping and tell him to go home. Frustrated, Danzō turns back and starts heading back to the village. But, before long something makes him turn around to pursue them again. I don’t know how good he thought his chances of stopping them at this point were, but i think there were also strong subconscious elements of “if this revenge mission is happening then i have to be there too.”

Meanwhile, Kagami and Hiruzen have caught up with the Gold and Silver Brothers and managed to catch them in an ambush. I’m not the best battle choreographer so i don’t know exactly how this went down, but: it was an intense battle, with both sides going all-out; eventually, there was an obviously dangerous opening and Kagami recklessly took it to deal the ending blow on Kinkaku, letting himself be killed by Ginkaku in the process. Danzō gets there just in time to watch him do it. Hiruzen manages to finish Ginkaku off shortly after that.

Kagami was already dead. Hiruzen was only about half-dead, so Danzō healed him as best he could in the field. He sealed the bodies of the Gold and Silver Brothers and his dead teammate into storage scrolls and dragged his 30% dead teammate back to the village.

And the rest is history.

[hamliet]

The Faces Under Bai WuXiang’s Mask

Or, dissecting Bai WuXiang. I’m not going to get into whose face is actually under BWX’s mask (there aren’t spoilers in this meta), or into Lang Ying, but I instead want to talk about Bai WuXiang’s foiling with primarily Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, but also a bit of He Xuan and Qi Rong (fitting as BWX and the latter three are the Four Great Calamities). 

Anyways. Mount TongLu. 

The funny thing about Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s horror over Hua Cheng’s love for Xie Lian is that they think he’s a demon stalking Xie Lian with the intent of harming him. 

Feng Xin was practically getting chills looking through those murals, “My fucking god… who the hell is he? He’s been watching you since eight hundred years ago?! And he is still, even now? What the fuck! This is terrifying! Is he bewitched? What the hell does he want? Normal worshippers won’t even do this much, just what the hell does he want??”

And Hua Cheng has loved Xie Lian and lived for him for 800 years. Yet, while there is a demon stalking Xie Lian for 800 years, it is not Hua Cheng but Bai WuXiang.

Bai WuXiang’s obsession with Xie Lian seems to be that he wants Xie Lian to become exactly like him, as a sort of forced empathy (I’m sensing a pattern among MXTX villains: see here for He Xuan and here for MDZS’s Xue Yang). I’m curious to see where this develops. Bai WuXiang seems to recognize Xie Lian’s terror and understand it, even, and he wants to see it drive Xie Lian into the same kind of crying/laughing despair that governs him. 

White No-Face lifted his face to look at his eyes, and he said warmly, “Your highness, I think, you might have misunderstood. There certainly will be a Supreme who will emerge from this kiln, but, it won’t be me. It would be you.” ...

“Do you remember this cry-smiling mask?” White No-Face asked, “It suits you.” ...

Then, without giving him a chance to protest, that tragically pale cry-smiling mask melted with the infinite darkness as it was heavily pressed onto Xie Lian’s face.

This is, of course, a crucial difference when compared with how Hua Cheng sees Xie Lian. He never forces Xie Lian to do anything, and accompanies him even when he doesn’t want Xie Lian to make a particular choice. In other words, Hua Cheng gets real empathy and what it’s like, that it doesn’t mean becoming exactly like someone or agreeing all the time, but walking with them. 

Xie Lian softly sighed a breath of relief and forced a smile, “Nothing, it’s just, in these past years, how I passed my earlier days wasn’t the prettiest sight, it was all muddled and very much a failure. I just thought if you had witnessed it it wouldn’t be good.”

Hua Cheng laughed, “How could that be?”

Xie Lian however, didn’t laugh at all, “It’s not a joke, it really was quite the failure.”

Hearing this, Hua Cheng withdrew his smile and turned solemn, “That’s okay too. Didn’t your highness already say it yourself?”

“Me?” Xie Lian was confused, “What did I say?”

Hua Cheng recited languidly, “To me, the one standing in infinite glory is you, the one fallen from grace is also you. What matters is you, and not the state of you.”

Bai WuXiang doesn’t understand this perspective at all. He tells Xie Lian, regarding Hua Cheng:

“it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t come in. Otherwise, even if he doesn’t think so now, later when he sees the state of you, who knows if he’ll still want to be with you.”

He’s preying on Xie Lian’s worst insecurities, the ones he mentioned earlier: that he’s a failure, that he’s trash. I’m pretty sure this is actually what Bai WuXiang thinks of himself: that he’s a failure, and no one wants to be with him (well, I mean, look at you BWX...) 

We see these fears of being inherently bad in Hua Cheng as a little boy. Everyone seems to believe this about him, especially when the priest tells his fortune:

The Head Priest wiped his sweat and suddenly backed a mile away, “Your highness, you really picked up something you shouldn’t have up the mountain! That small child is toxic! His sign is borne of the most ominous star, the Star of Solitude*, destined to bring misfortune and destruction, the kind that evil loves the most. Whoever touches him will have misfortune befall upon them, whoever gets close will lose their lives!”

... Seeing that everyone was avoiding him like he was a poisonous snake, that child was shocked and started thrashing even harder, biting and screaming, “I’m not! I’M NOT!! I’M NOT!!!!”

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped him around the waist, encircling his small form. A voice came from above his head, “You’re not. I know you’re not. Don’t cry, now. I know you’re not.”

That young child pressed his lips closed tightly, grabbing on to that pair of snow-white sleeves around his waist with a death grip, forced himself to hold back for a long time but in the end he still couldn’t. A stream of tears suddenly rolled down from that round, black eye, and he burst out crying.

Xie Lian embraced him from behind and reiterated firmly, “It not you. It’s not your fault.”

This scene was also paralleled recently in the confession scene in 177, where Xie Lian hugs Hua Cheng from behind to confirm he loves him. But what Hua Cheng fears is being alone because he brings misfortune to the people he loves. He doesn’t want to be alone. Connection, as we’ll see, is vitally important to staying alive and to staying connected to humanity--whether mortal, god, or demon--in TGCF. He even asks Xie Lian in the confession scene not to tell him, because he’s so afraid of being rejected, yet Xie Lian embraces him instead. 

i’m not in pain at all

When Hua Cheng is wondering what to live for, thinking he has nothing, Xie Lian tells him to live for him until he finds another reason to live for himself. This scene again emphasizes the importance of connection and the importance of empathy in connection as well, that a god would speak to a lone, desperate mortal worshipper. Live for their connection. The problem is that Hua Cheng needs to extend some of that love to himself too (like, he’s still drawing himself as exceedingly ugly in his art), but I think that comes through allowing himself to be loved by Xie Lian. So he’s on that path. 

There’s another aspect to the BWX and Hua Cheng foiling that makes me slightly uncomfortable to discuss, but it’s there so let’s discuss it. Hua Cheng’s murals that so panicked Mu Qing and Feng Xin were pretty obviously, er, erotic (the ultimate self-insert real person fanartist; Hua Cheng and Dante could get along). Bai WuXiang is definitely giving off some... creeper vibes. 

The next second, his hair was grabbed, forcibly yanked back then bashed into the ground!

His ears were ringing, his nose and mouth were filled with the astringence of blood, and his head concussed.

It was a while later before Xie Lian felt a hand pull his head out from the shattered ground, and a voice came from above, “So sad, so pitiful.”

Xie Lian choked out a mouthful of blood. White No-Face said, “Every time I meet your highness, you always look like this. Makes one ache. Makes one excited.”

It could just be the translation, but given BWX’s foiling with Hua Cheng, the scene two chapters earlier where Mu Qing and Fen Xin clearly think Hua Cheng is going to harm Xie Lian sexually and Hua Cheng assures him he has no such intentions (not that Xie Lian thought he would), plus what we know of Xie Lian’s utter commitment to abstinence does make me think that Bai WuXiang knows what he’s doing and is doing it to distress Xie Lian. I don’t think MXTX will take it very far (ie I don’t think anything will actually happen in a literal sense), thankfully, but I do think something metaphorically along those lines (ie something humiliating that denies Xie Lian humanity in a sense other than that one, BUT metaphorical is not the same thing) might have happened in the past.

There’s also the fact that Bai WuXiang slamming Xie Lian’s face into the ground and demanding he be like him at the ending of book 3, right before we dive into the past, is a reversal of the scene at the ending of book 1 right before we dive into the past, where Xie Lian slams Qi Rong’s face into the ground because he can’t get him to stop possessing an innocent father. Additionally, in this scene Qi Rong tells Xie Lian something similar to what BWX tells Xie Lian, except Xie Lian is the one in power then:

Xie Lian’s breathing was becoming more laboured, his head dizzy, his body shaking, his hands itching to crush Qi Rong’s skull, but he couldn’t do it. Qi Rong spread his hands, “Hahahaha cousin crown prince, what a failure, what an absolute failure!”

Xie Lian picked him off the ground, raised his fists and rained punch after punch on Qi Rong’s face, yelling with each punch, “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

Yet, the more enraged he got, the happier Qi Rong became. To be able to drag the both of them to the same hell, Qi Rong was filled with rapture, his eyes shone brightly, “See! There’s your true face! Cousin crown prince, who knows you better than me in this world? You might look like a pathetic, drowned dog that anyone can trample now, but I know. You’re still proud on the inside; you couldn’t stand anyone calling you a failure! You must hate me for calling you a failure! Have I stabbed your heart enough to bleed? Hurry! Come! Or are you gonna tell me loudly that this body is innocent, so you won’t kill me in order to spare him? Come! Show me what you’ll do!”

It’s the same sort of temptation, except BWX has the spiritual power on his side whereas Qi Rong didn’t. Kill me, and become like me. If Xie Lian doesn’t give up, if he stands by his morals even though they’re being challenged because honestly his morals are kind of all he has at certain moments, then they themselves will be condemned, as they already know they are. But they want someone to empathize with them, to understand them. Qi Rong spent his childhood looking up to Xie Lian, wanting to be like him, and now he wants Xie Lian to be like him. He’s still a child, despite being an 800-year-old demon. I have hope Qi Rong will be able to grow a bit through being a parental figure for GuZi, I don’t really for BWX because I find him a terrifying baddie whom I love and despise at the same time. 

What sets Xie Lian apart though, the whole reason Qi Rong loved him so much in the first place, the reason Hua Cheng fell in love with him, the reason He Xuan grew close with Shi Qing Xuan, is because Xie Lian can empathize. He has a sense of wonder about the world, and he doesn’t see himself as better than anyone. He’s naive and yes, proud in some ways, but when his priests tried to kick out a child because the child had a bad fortune, he protected that child. He dove off the ceremonial cart to save a falling child. He knows he failed epically to save Xian Le from falling, to save innocents from dying, but not for lack of trying. 

He Xuan also tried to force Shi Qing Xuan and Shi Wu Du to understand his pain in losing all his loved ones. It backfired, and now He Xuan has lost the one person he still had. (I don’t think SQX is dead, but I doubt he is in a good state.) The meta I referenced earlier is entirely about this, and as @beneaththebrim wrote here, the whole Black Water arc “is a tragic mirror of the main plot.”

The faces under Bai WuXiang’s mask could easily be any of these characters, but they aren’t because they’re able to connect currently. Qi Rong has a genuine connection to Xie Lian, as twisted and torn as it is, and is developing one with GuZi. He Xuan is likely finding out that revenge on Shi Wu Du didn’t bring him the peace he wants, didn’t bring his loved ones back, and irreparably hurt the one person who loved him (Shi Qing Xuan). Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, of course, love each other, and through each others’ love, are hopefully starting, ever so slowly, to learn to love and value themselves too (Hua Cheng you don’t value yourself enough). 

Bai WuXiang is likely terrified of facing the reality that he is alone (and if he doesn’t have the human face disease or some remnant thereof since he’s the mastermind behind it and it’s symbolic of society corrupting & also of loneliness, I’ll be shocked). So no matter how many faces he has in actuality, it’s really only his face under that mask, and that’s what he’s terrified of. 

[whetstonefires]

director's cut top guide? I don't have a section in specific pick your favorite I guess I love the whole thing

Awwwww thank you. 💗😊 For the compliment, the interest, and the guidance.  Additionally thanks because I just discovered I didn’t update this fic in October like I thought I did! It’s still in the status it had in July. So uh. I’ll be getting right on that. ˋ( ° ▽、° )

I think I’m gonna go with a passage back near the start, in the first half of chapter 4, the one where Tifa’s getting Vincent out of his coffin. I like how it came out and it’s pretty important, and if I’ve rambled about it at all, it wasn’t recently.

-

There’s a push-pull effect fundamental to this scene–first physically, with Tifa moving and destroying actual barriers, and Vincent repeatedly attempting to withdraw. But also on the level of Tifa attempting a series of verbal sallies, which Vincent initially rebuffs and then ignores by vampirically pulling the covers over his head and generally putting the passive in passive-aggressive.

But after telling her to go ahead and set the building on fire with him in it, Vincent gets his lid on and settles on being inert, and Tifa gets to do a monologue.

There are a lot of speeches in this fic, honestly, because of the precedent set by canon/the kinds of characters I’m working with, but most of them are nowhere near this long, and even though Tifa’s trying to achieve a specific rhetorical objective here, they’re generally not quite this honest.

“It’s easy to decide to die,” she told him, at length. “It’s easy to stop fighting when there doesn’t seem to be any hope. I know.

“But you’ll always regret it. You know that. If you’d been brave enough to choose Lucrecia over the Turks before Hojo got his grubby claws into her, maybe none of this would ever have happened. If she’d been brave enough to choose you sooner, it might have been okay. Not choosing is almost always a bad choice. If you come out of hiding, more things will happen—things that can’t unhappen. I know that’s frightening. But things happen without you, too. When you’re not there. When you do nothing.”

Tifa rocked back on her heels. “You can’t make the world go back to the way it was before, get back the same happiness or hope from your memories…not even if you could wind back time.”

Here Tifa is combining her intimate knowledge of Vincent’s circumstances with her own situation to create a sort of…weaponized empathy.

She can’t afford for Vincent to not listen to her, because she refuses to either give up on her mission or kill him, so when the normal approach fails she falls back on contingency and proceeds to run absolutely roughshod over all his personal boundaries.

Now, being able to wield future information against people this way is one of the major features of this general genre of time travel story, particularly when (like Tifa here) the traveler had level-ups, but didn’t get to carry them into New Game Plus. Tifa later uses it against Tseng with no artfulness whatsoever.

But that kind of blunt, bludgeoning use of intimate knowledge is a power game; it’s not how you treat a friend. So Tifa spends a lot of this speech, especially the opening, drawing connections between her experience and Vincent’s, exposing herself emotionally as much as can reasonably be managed without going off on any Tifa-centric tangents.

Being displaced in time and separated from everything you cared about is relevant, here. And she’s also able to bring her personal experience with feeling helpless and trapped–not by the sort of clear antagonistic obstacle you can batter down with your fists but by the certainty that every possible course of action is Terrible and Wrong and so you can’t act, because you can’t choose–she specifically frames it in terms of having to decide between binary options, because that’s how we’ve seen her experience it wrt i.e. ‘talking to Cloud about how his brain is weird.’

The experience is similar enough to Vincent’s, especially his not-initiating of important relationship conversations with Lucretia at the beginning, for these terms to work for communication purposes, but it’s very definitely Tifa’s experience being mapped onto Vincent’s here, and proffered to ameliorate the inherent violence of what she’s doing.

Her coping mechanism for that trapped feeling, though, is to distract herself with Doing Something Constructive that allows her to avoid the issue without feeling like she’s stuck.

There’s a certain extent to which allowing time to process or grieve is important, and Tifa is bad at allowing it, largely I think because she’s very aware of the danger of getting mired in paralysis and ruminating on the bad thing until it’s all that exists. Vincent more than anyone else in the cast is defined by his choice to identify with his trauma, and while Aerith is the one most defined by trying not to do that, Tifa’s far enough to that end to create a conflict in viewpoint even when nothing vitally important is at stake.

I also included a dialogue ping to the place where she talks about this in the Advent Children movie, though if you’ve been following my opinions on ffvii any time at all you probably know I have so many problems with thedecisions made with Tifa in that film. Even the parts that areconsonant with her established characterization require her to have rolled back mostof her development from the OG.

The part where she doesn’t come with Cloud on the rescue mission shebullies him into is so utterly backward and the opposite of her establishedbehavior and values and just basic logic that I have to sort of write around it,because I can’t accept that it happened. But if we ignore that bit, and the amount of self-centeredness in the harangue, some elementsof the interaction have potential.

Because if nothing else it’s the most explicit verbal treatment in the Compilation of the recurring theme of people being ‘stuck.’ Not by bars and walls and certain death, but by the prisons inside their heads.

“But…there are still possibilities. Still things you can do to make the world better. Her choices…they weren’t your fault. But whatever you’re blaming yourself for right now…lying here until you die won’t make it better. The biggest sin of all, to me, is not trying to make things better.

“You aren’t a monster, Vincent. Nothing Hojo did to your body, nothing Lucrecia did to bring you back, could make you one. As long as you have your mind, you decide. And it’s what you decide to do that makes the difference between a human and anything else.”

She’s hitting hard, here: call to action, absolution, extremely targeted personal affirmation, clarification that she really does know what’s up with him, new information that Lucrecia was involved with his current status, and finally, optimistic conceptual framework imposed on the situation, since Vincent certainly isn’t capable of that himself.

This treatment of Vincent’s situation vis-a-vis humanity is, of course, also very relevant to the ensuing plot-central question of what Sephiroth is, and whether he has the power to make good life choices. Which Tifa is not nearly as sure of as with Vincent, since while she stands by the principle that it’s a matter of choice she knows for a fact that Vincent can make good ones, but has certainly never seen evidence with Sephiroth.

And then of course there’s Genesis, who would love to get everyone to accept that his sins are a function of what rather than who he is, and drag down with him anyone he can reach, and who by his very effort to sell the idea makes it seem less likely.

I’ve excerpted only Tifa’s dialogue and some of the tags from the rest of the passage, because her narration gets lengthier and isn’t what I’m focusing on for this commentary.

She waited. But the man in the box didn’t move, and he didn’t speak. “Lucrecia is still alive,” she told him. “Preserved in crystal. Hidden away. You two really are a pair, aren’t you? And maybe you’re both right to be concerned—she’s got Jenova in her, and you’ve got those things that replaced your Limit Breaks. But they don’t control you.”

[…]

“They don’t control you,” she repeated. “Hojo doesn’t control you. You can choose to do nothing for the rest of your long life if that’s what you really want. But it’s not your destiny. And it’s not what’s right.”

‘It’s not what’s right’ is an interesting line in retrospect, because Tifa’s saying it within a framework of denying Vincent’s reasoning that there’s something somehow virtuous about closing himself off from the world, so he can’t do any more harm. Specifically in the context of assuring him that he has control over his actions, and his Limit Break things don’t.

But in the overall argument, about how his power of self-determination relates to responsibility to the world, it can also be read as a moral condemnation, the suggestion that there is a specific thing that’s right, and Vincent isn’t doing it.

“Sephiroth is an adult now,” she said [….] “They put him in the Shinra military. Made him a General.”

[…] “If Hojo and Jenova have their way, he’ll become a monster soon,” she confided in the coffin. “Maybe there’s no way to change that. Maybe it’s too late for him. Maybe it’s his destiny. But it’s not too late for the rest of the world, not yet. I know that much. Everyone who has the power to fight him has a responsibility to try.”

That’s where her speech winds up–rather abrupt return to her earlier, blown-off argument about Sephiroth imminently killing everybody and how Vincent should help. He doesn’t do anything. He continues to be a box.

So then she punches her way into the coffin.

“What are you?”

She knew it wasn’t her feat of strength that had impressed him, though he probably appreciated the rhetorical force of it.

I really like this line. Describing ‘punching open the box someone’s hiding in at the climax of an inspirational speech’ as a rhetorical device is the kind of thing I find very funny, and I got characterization of both of them and story advancement into the sentence too.

“Tifa,” she said. “Tifa Lockhart.” She held out her right hand. “Get up, Vincent Valentine. The world isn’t done with you yet.”

He let her pull him up onto his feet.

Some obvious symbolism there, fitted into the very important fact that this worked.

Getting Vincent out of his coffin has been the only thing Tifa’s attempted so far in the story that has turned out more or less exactly as planned. Not entirely easily, and not following a step-by-step plot because that’s not Tifa, but without random factors interceding and requiring her to recalculate wildly, make decisions entirely on the fly, and draw up a new set of plans in the aftermath, either.

In a way, the Vincent recruitment section microcosms the fight Tifa’s having with the universe throughout the fic, in her efforts to make things line up so she can get a better outcome to this nightmare scenario she’s been pitched back into: direct, physical actions are persistently vital and necessary, but her real success must always hinge on her particular knowledge, and ability to apply it.

Apply it specifically, thus far, mostly to getting people to take her seriously and do as she says. Because she’s been placed in a position where as useful and important as her personal power is, it’s not the right tool to rely on for her central task. That has to be tackled via community building, in a context that intensely disinclines her to attempt such overtures.

Which in turn invokes one of the several great dichotomies of Tifa’s in-game characterization–the periodic tension between her social impulses, to bind and soothe and promote bonding, and her…reactive impulses, to seize the world in both hands and find something to fight and do and change, so she doesn’t feel helpless in the face of all that is evil.

The parts of her character arc in the game that aren’t actively about Cloud seem to center around being forced to face that both these behavior patterns (especially in their role as coping mechanisms) are capable of being not only inadequate but actively, harmfully inappropriate to particular situations.

And then coping with this fact, and continuing to inhabit these parts of her identity in ways that turn out constructive. E.g., choose caring for Cloud over leading party to do anti-Shinra things that have only the vaguest prospect of actually averting the apocalypse; successfully retrieve his mind from the Lifestream. Help punch Sephiroth to death and stop him from holding back Holy; world saved.

If you try really hard to get a personal moral for Tifa out of the OG that isn’t pretty sexist, it might come down to something like: realize that you might be acting wrongly; then, act. Stay afraid, but do it anyway.

And, optimistically: perhaps you do not have to choose between your faces. Perhaps they are both allowed. Perhaps all of you is allowed. Perhaps you are enough.

One of the things Tifa and Cloud share is needing so desperately to be enough.

In a way that’s a feeling that unites the entire party, in their various ways, except maybe Aerith, depending on how you interpret her relationship to the obligations of being the Last Ancient. But Tifa and Cloud are about the same age and come from the same context and share a major trauma, so it looks particularly similar in them.

And of course there are also ways it looks especially similar between Tifa and Vincent, because they’re the most hopeless romantics in the party. 😆

[thebifrostgiant]

If You Know Where to Look - Part 8 (2/2)

Summary: in which Loki hunts, and you listen. Thunder rumbles from a distance

Part 1 / Previous

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 2,888

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Loki/Reader

*

Chapter 8: A Crown’s No Cure (cont.)

Strangely, you haven’t seen Loki at all in the time you’ve spent around his intended. It’s not a fact that you resent in the slightest, but you’d prepared yourself mentally for having to spend time uncomfortably in his presence when Ülle wished to be with her groom, and yet you’ve seen no trace of the man since he’d left you in Eir’s halls without so much as a backward glance. It’s somewhat conspicuous, the lack of the young prince, at least to you, although Ülle seems to pay it no mind, for if she’s even noticed his absence, she’s unbothered by it. Which in and of itself is weird, since Ülle is an inherently bothered person, best you can tell.

What’s even more interesting is this one such excursion you’re on, scurrying after the tails of Ülle’s dress, when the prospective princess stops in some quiet corridor to talk to a man you don’t recognize, but must be some sort of guard or warrior judging by his substantial size and metal-plated armor. She smiles at him when she greets him, and you stare, momentarily struck by how delighted she seems, and how much different she looks because of it.

The man grins back, looking a tad confused but no less polite as he raises her hand to deliver a kiss to her knuckles.

“My Lady.” His voice is a soft, deep rumble, and he dips his head to her, red-golden hair swaying aside his bearded face.

She giggles — actually giggles! — looking quite charmed as his whiskered lips brush against her fingers, and tips her head back to blink demurely up at the man, who you won’t deny is quite handsome in a rugged sort of way. But still, you’re not sure which is more shocking, Ülle blushing, or the fact that she’s flirting with someone who isn’t the man she’s promised to.

“You know,” she says, sounding thoughtful and a bit too pleased, as she pointedly looks the man up and down, eyes lingering a beat too long on his muscular chest and exposed, sinewy arms, “You look nothing like your brother.”

And you stiffen where you stand as the words click into place, and you realize abruptly who your mistress is talking too. Then you make yourself scarce, slipping away unnoticed to wait behind a pillar.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious, because he does indeed look very much the way the rumors describe him, from the generous span of his shoulders to his lopsided smile, which looks far too endearing on someone so imposing in stature.

Prince Thor, for his part, begins to look slightly awkward, like he isn’t entirely sure what to do, and he laughs in a way that sounds kind of forced to your ears, but seems not to affect Ülle in the slightest, other than causing her face to light up, if possible, even more.

“We get that a lot,” he says, rocking back on his heels and fidgeting with a leather strap on his arm.

Ülle continues coquetting the crown prince for several long minutes, making his strained small talk seem tremendously funny and engaging, occasionally touching his arm or his hair, despite his increasingly clear discomfort.

You’re not really sure what to do. You could find some way to interrupt, to put an end to what is sure to be the biggest scandal Asgard’s had since Bor married a Jotun, but you’re acutely aware that it’s not exactly your place to do so, both because you’re little more than a glorified errand girl, and because Prince Thor is certainly capable of excusing himself, and yet has chosen to stay his feet. But do you... do you tell someone? You’re not just meant to ignore it, are you?

Caught up in your fretting, you don’t notice when Ülle leaves, but you jerk your head up at the sound of approaching footfalls and realize she is gone just as Prince Loki strides into view.

He doesn’t seem to see you, fixated as he is on Thor, and you duck further behind the marble column, hoping the loud thudding of your steadily climbing heart rate doesn’t give you away.

“Loki! There you are! Where have you been these past days?” Prince Thor all but yells as he catches sight of his brother, moving forward to intercept him and blocking your sight somewhat. You have to lean out to peer around his shoulders to see Loki’s face, and you hold your breath and mentally ask the Norns for both forgiveness and their blessing.

Loki halts, and frowns for a second, like he’d been cut off from what he was about to say, but he humors Prince Thor anyway.

“I was overseeing a personal matter,” he says smoothly, a note of finality in his voice as he opens his mouth to no doubt change the subject. But Prince Thor, sounding unimpressed, cuts him off again.

“And what matter would this be?”

Prince Loki actually rolls his eyes in a decidedly unprincely manner, irritation coming off of him in waves.

“Did I not just say it was personal?” He huffs. “If you must know, Thor, I was busy finding new homes for some rather unsavory people I’ve recently made the acquaintance of. I do hope they find the dungeons suitably hospitable.”

Prince Thor takes a step backwards, turns slightly and you can see the surprise and worry clear on his face.

“You were dealing with criminals? By yourself? Are you alright? Have they hurt you?” he asks all at once, comically looking his brother over, grabbing his shoulder then removing his hand just as fast as if he might have accidentally jarred a wound and letting it hang uselessly by his side.

Prince Loki puts up with it with a look of long-suffering.

“I’m here aren’t I?” he asks facetiously, “Alive? In one piece?” He cocks his head to the side. “I certainly feel alright, but perhaps I should double check.”

Prince Thor shifts again, and you can’t see his reaction, but you can perfectly well imagine the look of mingled fondness and exasperation.

“And what of you?” Loki asks suddenly, his posture straightening and his tone bleeding into cool amusement. “What business did you have here in this secluded corridor with my lovely future wife?”

“Loki,” Prince Thor begins warily, taking another step back and running his fingers once more along the band of leather on his wrist. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

And yeah, that is the truth, and you know Prince Thor did nothing untoward moreso than letting himself be pawed at, but he’s not exactly helping himself out by projecting an air of guilt so loudly.

Prince Loki frowns in an exaggeratedly confused way.

“And what did it look like, exactly? I didn’t see. But I did hear a few things that one would be hard-pressed to interpret as anything other than dallying. Are you next going to tell me it wasn’t what it sounded like either?”

“Brother,” Prince Thor tries again, putting his hands up to show his innocence, or perhaps to hold Loki back if necessary. “If you’re worried that I’ll sleep with her- “

“Of course I’m not,” Loki interjects smoothly, a sharpness underneath. “Sif would never forgive you if she found out.”

Surprisingly, Prince Thor snorts, inelegantly, at this, not at all as if reacting to the threat those words sure sounded like. Instead, he shakes his head like they’re sharing a joke. When he speaks, though, he is unquestionably sincere.

“I wouldn’t do that regardless of my devotion to her.”

Loki meets his eyes.

“I don’t doubt that,” he murmurs.

“Good,” says Prince Thor, just as quietly.

“Not that I’d particularly care either way, but I’d prefer to save myself the trouble of that inevitable fallout.”

Wait. He can’t mean-

“What do you mean, Loki?” Prince Thor asks, sounding far more keen than he’d been as of yet.

“You don’t think I’d willing bind myself to that woman if I had a choice, do you?”

Oh. That is what he means.

Prince Thor tugs at one of his braids.

“I’m sure Father- “

“Oh, I’m sure, too,” Loki cuts in tonelessly, a strangely burning look in his eyes. “You’re lucky, Thor.”

And he walks away, leaving Prince Thor staring after his retreating back and the sound of his boots filling the space he left behind.

Then Prince Thor is turning, and your eyes go wide as you scramble back behind the pillar, but you know it’s too late. He stalks over to your erstwhile hiding place and crosses his arms as he glares down at you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, and you falter under his looming presence and loud voice, unable to meet his eyes as shame sinks in.

“I- I- I- “ you stutter, failing to come up with anything to say in your defense. “I’m sorry, my prince, so sorry! It won’t happen again, I swear it!”

You fold your fingers around your sleeve ends to stop them trembling, and then wrap your arms around yourself when that doesn’t work.

Prince Thor is silent for so long, you look up anxiously, hoping doing so isn’t the wrong decision, but needing to have some idea what he’s thinking.

And he does appear to be thinking, if the bemused crease in his brow is anything to go by. Then his startlingly blue eyes land on your scar and something like recognition passes through them, and he relaxes his stance a bit.

“See to it that it doesn’t,” he says, more curt than angry now, and he too leaves, taking the hallway opposite the one Loki had gone down.

And then you’re alone, completely alone, in an unfamiliar corridor of the palace, with no idea which way to go, every fear you had of being lost here rushing back with a vengeance, and additionally, you’re in for a thorough dressing down from Ülle, one you’ve actually earned, on top of the scolding you’d already received from Prince Thor. And you’re still reeling from all that you’ve heard.

But, at least, you don’t have to make any decisions just yet, since it seems Prince Loki knows about his betrothed’s would-be infidelity.

And as you take the hallway to the right, that’s another decision taken care of.

***

You’ve been wandering the halls long enough for true alarm to set in, still without the faintest idea where you are in the palace to even have a frame of reference as to which direction to go in next. The only clue that you might be on the right track that you’ve found so far is the statue of the eight-legged horse, only you’re pretty sure it had been facing the window and down on all fours (eights?) when you’d seen it before, and now it’s the other way around and rearing, and you’re not certain if it’s a different statue altogether or if it somehow moved, because it looks like the same recess as before and-

You breathe, forcing away the panic. You turn around and continue your thus far fruitless search.

You pass several doors that are starting to look a bit familiar, and then one opens and someone lurches out and grabs you.

“There you are!” Ülle hisses out before you can scream, and well, it’s not exactly a relief to see her, but at least things can stop getting worse now. Her nails dig into your shoulder as she hauls you into the room with her and all but throws you forward as she hastily pulls the door shut.

You freeze, seeing unfamiliar faces staring at you from inside this unfamiliar room. You stare back. Your brain has not yet caught up enough to process what exactly is happening, but it appears these people are discussing something severely important, looking as they do as if they’ve been interrupted and eyeing you with clear mistrust. You don’t have long to ponder it before Ülle is shoving you again toward a cart with a jug of some sweet smelling wine and ordering you to serve everyone.

You comply wordlessly, and uneasy conversation trickles back up, sotto voce, as you fill each of the strangers’ goblets with the scarlet liquid. When you finish, you move to stand behind Ülle, hands folded and awaiting further instructions.

“What have you found out about the elder prince, Ülle?” asks a man with hair an almost preternaturally pale grey despite his semblant youth as he leans forward in his seat toward the woman in question.

Another woman, old enough for wrinkles to touch the corners of her eyes, holds up a veiny hand to stave off an answer.

“What of the girl?”

She turns suspicious eyes upon you, and you keep your head down, trying to be inconspicuous.

Ülle laughs and waves a hand.

“Her? She is mute, she does not speak. She will not be a problem,” she says dismissively, and you can’t believe it.

It’s fortunate that your face is downcast, because surely the raw shock on it would have given you away. Mute! As often as your tongue has gotten you into trouble, the idea would be almost laughable if you didn’t astutely know that you were about to hear something critical.

The old woman scrutinizes you for a long moment. You can feel her gaze burning into you, and you let your thoughts and hidden face go blank, just in case.

“Very well. Ülle?”

“Thor is easy,” she says confidently, leaning back and taking a sip of her drink. “He does not feel attracted to me, but he is honor-bound and dutiful to a fault. He will marry me if his father tells him to.”

“And a child?” the man who had spoken before questions.

Ülle grins, all teeth and no real humor.

“Like I said: easy. And what about you, Bǫlverkr? Have you procured a befitting gift for my dear husband?” The poison that drips from those last words indicates that there is no love lost between her and the prince. You wonder what this suddenly terrifying woman would consider befitting. The way she says it makes you fear it could be actual poison.

A different man tosses her a small pouch in reply, and her smile sharpens even more.

“You can deliver it to him without drawing attention or his notice?” the old woman asks Bǫlverkr.

Bǫlverkr nods, looking coolly unconcerned as he twists the stem of his chalice between his fingers, churning the wine within.

“Yep,” he drawls. “The idiot has been searching the forest for something these last few days. Alone. It is no trouble to overpower him and bestow it upon him.”

The first man who had spoken, the one with the ashen hair, raises his eyebrows, disquieted by his fellow caballer’s apparent carelessness.

“Loki is crafty in manner and speech,” he warns. “You would do well not to underestimate him.”

Ülle laughs again at this, a harsh and wholly unpleasant sound.

“The snake only hisses!” she cries, mockingly shrill. “I saw it in his eyes when I first arrived. A fool’s hope, the yearning of a child. His naivety blinds him. He believes himself the only one capable of laying a trap; he will not suspect a trick from without.”

They seem to mull this over, taking sips of their wine and measuring the weight of Ülle’s assurances. Acceptance wins out over doubt, and the old woman turns to Bǫlverkr once more.

“And when the time comes, you will be prepared to make the loss of the golden prince seem like a tragedy?”

“You know me, Siánialik.”

You blanch, and search desperately for something to do with your hands, something to make you look busy and uninterested and not at all scared. You begin clearing up the used goblets and piling them on the cart, biting at the inside of your lip to distract you and help you focus on not giving yourself away.

But you’re lightheaded in the wake of this conspiracy, this treason. Oh, fuck. That’s exactly what this is. You’re now an accomplice to proposed treason. You, now more than ever, don’t know what to do, and you think you’re entitled to be freaking out about it but you can’t right this second since you’re pretending to be an unimportant little umb servant.

“Very good,” the old woman, Siánialik, pronounces. “Vanaheim will have the throne.”

And that seems to be everyone’s cue to rise and make their way from the room, and you begin wiping the table with a rag, trying to move at a normal, unperturbed pace, and Ülle approaches you.

“When you’re finished with that, bring the cart back to the kitchen. I trust you know the way? You won’t get lost again?” she says distractedly, and you shake your head even though you’re not sure she’ll even see it, but you can’t slip up and give a verbal answer now.

As soon as she’s out the door, you let your head sink into your hands, gasping in deep breaths. You give it ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty. And then you bolt from the room and fly in the direction you’d been lost before, hoping that you’ll run into Prince Thor or Loki or anyone at all who can deliver a warning.

Part 9