#and you can recognize him in those but when i watch beyond i don't think 'this is a simon pegg movie'

[bunnywithablog]

Hi! I saw that requests were open, so I wonder... can I request an imagine or headcanons (whatever you're more comfortable doing) about Legosi falling for a carnivore s/o and struggling with that after being so sure to be attracted to herbivores only please??

my writing chops are a bit rusty so please excuse me if this feels a bit off 😭 i had lots of fun writing it though!! if anyone is interested in a part 2, please let me know! i think it's a cool concept to explore and would love to do more with this >:) thank's for requesting and i hope you enjoy!

requests | rules | masterlist

pairing: Beastars - legoshi x carnivore!gn!reader - feeling conflicted over falling for a carnivore hc’s

warnings: internalized ...species-phobia??, brief locker-room talk from bill, implied love triangle if you squint

- now this just threw him for an absolute loop

- i mean, sure legoshi has always been more than capable of recognizing when a carnivore would be considered conventionally attractive

- but to actually FEEL attracted to them himself???

- manages to convince himself that maybe he just really likes you,,,,as a fellow peer?

- why else would he feel so strongly towards you?

- it had to be some pack-mentality science! yeah, definitely! 🤔

- but it's hard to ignore the way his ears perk at the sound of your voice during class

- or the slight wag of his tail when he catches your scent in the hallways

- or how his heart seems to stop whenever you look in his direction,,,, 💗

- it's like you were sent into his life specifically to shake him up, it's so confusing!

- so his best solution to this? avoiding you entirely.

- outta sight outta mind 🫡

- sitting extremely far away from your spot in classes, changing which hallway routes he takes, getting to and leaving the cafeteria way before/after you

- it's a perfect plan, really!

- except you don't leave his mind

- no matter where he is or what he's doing, images and questions about you creep into his thoughts

- 'what do they like to do in their free time? they have a really pretty smile, i bet it attracts a lot of people... are they interested in dating right now? would they even be interested in a grey wolf, for that matter? how do they keep their fur looking so soft?'

- he even makes more time to hang around with haru to try reinforce his established attraction to just herbivores

- the only thing this really achieves is sending him into a spiral about how he's attracted to two different people now

- and when you get scouted into the drama club as one of the dancers, it's even harder to keep you out of his sight

- starts making slip-ups with angling the lighting correctly since his focus can't help but shift to you during rehearsals

- the others in the backstage crew actually start asking if he's alright because he never makes this many mistakes

- he thinks every movement you make is so graceful, controlled and confident,,,

- it's a testament to the way you own your strengths and effortlessly channel them into your skills; it makes it undeniably alluring to watch the way you move

- wait! no! it's normal for most carnivores to be good at the physical arts so it's not attraction, just admiration for how good you are!

- denial is a river in egypt,,,,

- this cycle goes on for quite some time until the first dress rehearsal

- "oh man, did you see how good [name] looks out there in their costume? what a hot bod, especially doing all those poses and bends during the dance routine! heh, what i'd do to get a piece of that... huh? hey, legoshi, what's got you all wound-up?"

- hearing bill talk about you like that and subsequently having to hold back from hurtling a mean punch his way, legoshi finally accepted that this was a feeling he had to address 💀

- despite the borderline obsessive pull toward you, he realizes he doesn't actually know you beyond being classmates and drama club members together

- eventually concludes the best course of action is to formally introduce himself and hopefully spend some time together

- figures it's also a good way to see if these feelings grow or fade the more he gets to know you, maybe it really is just some carnivore pack-mentality thing!

- best-case scenario is that he just really wanted to be friends with you so he can continue pursuing haru without worry, but only time will tell now...

enjoy what i write? consider helping with my transition! 💕

[meggtheegg]

FNAF Movie Theory...

I'm pretty sure there's still one major plot twist in the universe of the movie that's been set up for a sequel but hasn't actually happened yet. Heavy spoilers under the cut:

After watching the movie in theaters and then revisiting a few scenes on Peacock, I'm still kind of convinced that Mike Schmidt is Michael Afton.

Here's my reasoning. A lot of the characters spend time acting like they know something the audience/other characters don't, and those things are...mostly resolved. But some of them just...kind of aren't.

The main thing that sticks out to me is William's whole storyline. Starting with the scene where he offers Mike the job, his behavior is almost explained by the movie's logic. He sees Mike's name, seems...kind of deeply upset, looks at him very closely, stands to get coffee, and has a moment of visible internal conflict. Then he instantly offers him the Freddy's job. The way the movie frames this, it seems to be saying that he recognized the name of one of his victims, realized this was the kid's brother, and decided to kill him right then and there. Which is passable as an explanation, but it has a lot of holes, if you look deeper.

Why would William so instantly recognize a fairly common last name as the brother of some kid he killed that wasn't even anywhere near Freddy's? Why did he kidnap/kill Garrett in the first place, in some random forest in Nebraska? Why did he see the name on the file, then immediately stop and examine Mike's face so closely, when Mike's memories/dreams pretty clearly show that they never saw each others' faces when Garrett was taken? Why did he send Vanessa to "keep Mike in the dark" if he purposely gave him the job to get him killed? Why not have the animatronics kill him right away? He didn't know that Mike was searching for the man who took his brother, and while he could have maybe guessed he was still actively haunted by what happened based on Mike beating up a guy that he thought was kidnapping someone, it still feels like a weird choice to go and hire him, then just have him do the job with no issue for a few days.

As for Vanessa, we see that she's been cleaning up William's messes for years. Why is Mike the one she changes her mind and stands up to her father for? There's no implied romance between the two and no particularly meaningful connection beyond them both having family issues. I guess she cares about Abby because she's a kid, but kids getting hurt clearly never stopped her from helping her father before.

And, on a more meta level, this is Scott and his storytelling style we're talking about. The man puts plot twists inside of plot twists and everything always ties back into the Aftons, somehow.

So, here's my theory: I think that Mike is William's kid, but Mike's mom left Afton when he was young and remarried the man that Mike thinks is his father.

It seems convoluted and maybe cliche, but if it's true, then suddenly there's an answer to all of those questions. "Michael Schmidt" isn't exactly an eye-catching name, unless you had a kid named Michael and your ex-wife married a guy with the last name Schmidt. Garrett's kidnapping, then, becomes an act of intentional, petty revenge rather than an extremely random coincidence. Giving Mike the job and sending in Vanessa suddenly becomes about piecing together how much he knows and figuring out if he's worth trying to reconnect with or is just a threat that needs to be killed. (It feels worth noting that William is as far as I can remember the only person to call him Michael in the whole film. He also very pointedly never says "Schmidt" until he's decided to kill Mike and suddenly announces his full name out loud. If he went by Michael as a little kid, that is what William would default to calling him, but if he took the new husband's last name, that would be like like salt in the wound that he wouldn't want to voice. By finally saying it out loud, it feels like he's making the decision to fully separate himself from Mike.)

As for Vanessa, if Mike is her brother, it makes sense that he would be the person she'd turn against William to save. It would be weird for her not to tell him, but she could also be trying to protect him, in some way. There's never any mention of her mother, and it seems like it's just been her and William for a long time. Also, ending the movie with her in a coma feels like a strange narrative choice, but it makes sense if she knows information that's purposely being kept hidden for the sequel.

Of course, it could just be that the movie has kind of messy writing and I'm trying to fix it because I want there to be a deeper reason for it. Maybe there is no Michael Afton in the movies, or maybe he's off chilling and doing his own thing somewhere and we'll see him in the sequel. Only time will tell.

[stanfordsweater]

hello i'm new to the supernatural fandom and you have been in my recommendeds for a while, reasons to ship wincest???

i thought for a long time about how to respond to this so imma link catherine tosenberger's excellent analysis of the first few seasons where "the most resistive aspect of Wincest fan fiction is that it gives the main characters a lasting happiness that the series eternally defers."

to begin with, there are a lot of people who will argue for the toxic codependency and i love them and also love it but the reason i've been here for well over a decade is because of the way that wincest offers you two paths: you can follow the path of those who write endless meta about how one or the other brother is abusive and how toxic it is and eventually brainwash yourself into being unable to ship it, or you can follow the path of love and light and perspective and recognize 1. these are fictional characters and b. there are no two characters in genre tv who are as devoted to each other as sam and dean. there is no plotline that follows through fifteen seasons of being obsessed with each other.

by choosing the incest pill, you grant yourself access to fifteen seasons of generally good tv ABOUT YOUR SHIP EXCLUSIVELY. sam and dean are the main characters and you will always know, opening up an episode, that they will be there, doing their weird-ass jealous obsessiveness, and you will never despair about not having them present, together, even if they're fighting or struggling or depressed. that is a very special thing!

now, beyond that, assuming you've watched the show, there's many reasons to cross the incest line. FIRSTLY, everyone involved was well aware of what they were doing. we have a few choice quotes i've collected below about their relationship that ramps up the intensity:

--

"Ultimately, they are pathologically dishonest with each other because John Winchester was pathologically elusive to them," consulting producer Ben Edlund says. "They learned that the truth is this dangerous thing, and that you shouldn't speak it. He even taught them to keep secrets from each other for strategic purposes." With all of the supernatural, apocalyptic, tragic drama woven into the show, Sam and Dean's relationship is rooted in human emotion. "When you look at the dysfunction that they show to each other, it comes directly from how they were brought up, and that's a kind of dysfunction that people in this world continue to face. 'Why didn't my dad tell me that he loved me yesterday?' We're just people sharing the same kind of thing," Edlund says.

--

"Why do you think Dean has had such a hard time forgiving Cas when he did forgive Sam for a similar betrayal?"

I think the easy answer is blood, I think the easy answer is family, even though if there was a family in this show it would include Bobby, it would include Cas, it would include these-- these-- kind of, broken war-torn heroes we've come to know, and you know, Bobby has that famous line, "family don't end with blood," but it is his brother, at the end of the day, that's the closest he has to a companion, and has had for a companion for many years, so I think with Cas there was always, "he's unnatural, he's an angel," and I think that for Dean, relating to someone like that, it's tricky, relating to monsters, relating to anything supernatural, his brother is flesh and blood, it's tangible, he can touch that.

--

Obviously the relationship between Sam and Dean is central to our show but we’ve been building this rift between Sam and Dean all season, so that led to the idea of having this young male character that sort of idolizes Dean and does all the cool stuff that Sam won’t do, and that’s Dean’s perfect mate.

(the thing sam won't do is literally swapping spit with him. tell me i'm lying)

--

in the hunt, page 37

--

Not all fans are content simply to attend conventions. Some of them want to take a hand in the story, and their fan fiction can explore areas mostly untouched on the show, like the latent homoerotic suggestiveness of the Winchesters’ intense relationship.

-THE NEW YORK TIMES

--

"eyefuck" became a well-known script shorthand because of how intense j2 looked at each other as sam and dean

--

it's a terrible life draft script:

Note B) They are supposed to be together

Note C) each been all alone in separate life finally found kindred spirit

--

in the hunt, page 158

--

i haven't included any eric kripke quotes because he has so much wrong with him that i don't want to enable it. this is a compliment. it is one of the highest i can give.

SO-- what these quotes tell us:

sam and dean are relatable because their relationship is intensely human

sam and dean have shared secrets they cannot voice to one another but that nonetheless make them inseparable

people have been writing motherfucking essays about sam and dean's homoeroticism since the show aired

within the mythology of the show, sam and dean are meant to be together above all other relationships

...oh, you need more? i didn't think i'd get this far. um... okay... look at them???

if you choose to walk this path you will find yourself crying and taking screenshots every time they look at each other or touch each other or hold each other and you will thank the lord in heaven that we were granted this intensely wild and beautiful homoerotic relationship back in 2005 and praise jesus that you can always return to their raw sexual chemistry-- "In fact, much like the early X-Files, the show is fueled past its failings almost entirely by the chemistry between the two principals, the boys who, like Mulder and Scully, generate enough sexual tension to power a small city" as quoted by whitney cox in 2006 in an article that otherwise fails to bring anything to the table, sorry if you love it for your meta but also literally just go read the catherine tosenberger essay

you still need more????? jesus, what have you shipped prior to this? well, go watch the pilot and enjoy the fact that the first scene these two have together they are wrestling on the floor (sexually) and getting all romantically silhouetted against this beautiful lighting

and then go watch a few fanvids like this or this and then watch the pilot and watch this and then read this post about how supernatural happily wields incest as a tool of horror and as comedy and then scroll through my entire family horror show tag to understand more and then watch this immaculate video that deals with the whole thing and think about how all these things were happening in 2005 and remember the fact that sam and dean are the main characters of the universe... and then maybe just watch the show and please do not become an annoying shit poster who just talks about how they hate it🙏

[bratdotcom]

Life Goes On

( viktor x reader - pre!arcane )

Upper-class chatter has never made Viktor feel so out of place until now. Professor Heimerdinger wanted him to branch out and get to know the people of the city. Not only for his sake, but for the sake of the academy's name being known.

After attempting to give a coherent speech about his newest invention, he grabs his crutch and walks off stage as professional as he could, Viktor could feel the disapproving eyes of potential investors on him already. Perhaps it was because of his origins from Zaun. Or the fact that he needed a cane to support himself.

An infinite amount of possibilities that he didn't need to think about. That he didn't want to think about.

Either way, he found more comfort outside than inside, his cane resting against smooth stone to support his aching back. The garden's calming ambiance soothed his nerves.

Viktor lets out a sigh,using his pointer and thumb to rub the tiredness from his heavy lids.

"Do you know who's statue you're loitering against?"

The voice's suddenness almost catches Viktor off guard. He sits up more properly now, his right leg pointing outward on the heel of his shoe.

His left leg in front of him to make him seem more proper in front of this unassuming stranger.

Although he felt like an absolute fool, he wasn't going to look like one in front of Piltover's elite.

He scans your face with those eyes of his. They narrow as he searches for some sort of familiarity in your features. Surely, he recognized you from somewhere. Viktor felt like he's seen you before.

He replies back cautiously, pulling his gaze away only to look at the sculpture. "No, I don't...care to enlighten me?" he tilts his head as he stares holes into you without knowing.

"Well," you tilt your head to the side and shrug.

"That's why I asked you."

Viktor huffs in amusement at that, disarmed at your honesty. That was something he didn't see every day.

"You're definitely smarter than most of the people back there." You say back instead of answering his question properly. He can already tell you had a knack for avoiding questions, which intrigued him greatly.

You tread closer to where he sat, dress shoes clunking against the cobblestone floor.

Just who were you exactly?

He perks up in posture as you plop down next to him onto the raised pedestal. He grabs his cane and keeps it close to him, putting it in between his knees.

"You don't have to do that." You say, eyes going from his shoes to his face. "I'm not like them."

Your words linger in his ears. They ring as though in tune with the chimes of the bell tower just beyond the garden gates, signaling the passage of another hour within the City of Progress.

"Like them?" he repeats, looking at your face again. Still, he can't remember where he's seen you. "I don't think you're any much different from us. We all share one thing in common, don't we?"

"That being..?" he trails off expectantly, more intrigued than before.

"The desire to do good." You reply simply, once again, catching him completely off guard. Viktor watches as your eyes shine as you ask him a question he doesn't quite catch. "You have it, no?"

When he catches himself staring, Viktor fixes his gaze onto something else. He stares at a nearby street sign that he's seen millions of times before.

"You're odd." he says in response, flattening out the collar of his shirt.

"So? You're odd, too."

Viktor scoffs again, his tired gaze softening. You were right. You, a complete, utter stranger, were right.

He finally says the question that's been on his mind the second he's laid eyes on you. He had to know.

Instead of saying it the way he thought of it in his head, his words come out much more rude than intended.

"Just who are you anyway?" He asks, still trying to recognize your features. To his surprise, you take his question well.

Your family name alone probably had more influence over him any day of the week. Compared to you, he was a nobody.

And yet here you were, talking to him as though he were your equal.

"A silk merchant in training." You answer the tips of your dress shoes pointing towards the floor.

Viktor recognizes you now, his tired eyes widening.

He asks another question quieter now, looking down at his shoes and yours. His scuffed ones and your cleaned ones. "You were there, weren't you?" He says softly.

"Where?"

"When I did my first speech. The one where I accidentally erased an equation on the board with my sleeve. You were in the crowd."

You let Viktor go on, you listen intently, palms pressed against the clean marble of the pedestal. Fingers on the edge, just as you were, as you waited for Viktor to piece two and two together. Like a true inventor.

"You looked at me as though..." Viktor pauses, staring down at his shoes. “As though I was a person. A real person. Not an investment to be made."

Viktor finally looks at you again. His eyes wander in an attempt to find his words.

"You actually...listened to me. You..cared. You cared about what I had to say."

His eyes set on you again.

"And I still do."

You reply, the memory of that day still fresh on your mind. You remember it vividly, the fervor in his tone, as he explained the mechanisms of a device you really didn't understand. His sleeve, accidentally brushing away hours worth of important equations and diagrams. You remember the way his eyes stopped shining when the room filled with small, barely hidden laughs.

Just as you did in that room, you listened. Just as you were doing now.

[skyeslittlecorner]

Thank you! Very relatable request, honestly. Where can I buy such a demon to protect me too-

This reminded me of my era of rewatching analogue-horror web-series, you have no idea how terrified I was when I was watching Vita Carnis and suddenly my roommate burst into the room at 2 AM. Nomorehorrors.

Satan isn't surprised that you're having panic attacks. Gehenna is the most wonderful place in Hell, but the angels do not want to leave them alone. The attacks occur so frequently and so randomly that it's no wonder you feel uneasy. He would pull you back into bed and hold you against his chest, stroking you protectively. “You're in no danger with me.” His low voice is confident and strong, as are his arms. Even if the world were to burn, you are the first to be protected, so you don't have to be afraid. Besides, this guy sleeps with his eyes open. He's probably the one you should be most afraid of. They glow like headlights, so you don't have to be afraid of something moving in the dark, because there is no darkness here.

Mammon will hug you to his huge tits. How can you feel insecure when you have such a steady rock with you? Stable as a wall, warm as a heater, and protects your back (and bottom) as solidly as anyone else in the world. But if you're afraid, he'll put a huge canopy over your bed. Not even a mosquito can get through the curtains of gold. Another thing is that it's a bit hard to sleep in the golden glow, but hey, it's the will that count, right? And you can count on your every doubt being answered in the most spectacular way.

Beelzebub is the reason your paranoia hasn't gone away yet. You're lying nicely in bed, and suddenly something crawls under the sheets and cuddles up to you. Absolutely terrifying. You would jump out of bed, but the strong hug prevents you from doing so, and also you quickly recognize the disgruntled growl. The wandering king has finally appeared. You punch him for it. Two puppy dog eyes will look at you, and how can you be mad at him? “Sorry… I missed you.” He murmurs apologetically into your chest. You will sigh and bury yourself in the sheets and cuddle up to this idiot, wrapped tightly in the duvet so that no more surprises will come.

Leviathan, when he feels you're anxious, will simply close the coffin lid. Of course, you sleep closer to the closed edge, so that you can see the gap behind him. If you see anything moving beyond it, those are tentacles. They may look scary, but they are there to protect you. Why are you afraid of nightmares when their ruler hugs you to his chest like his treasure? Your nightmares should be afraid of him. He has the power to bend them to his will. Nothing can hurt you… but him. Better is the known danger than the one that lurks in the dark, so you'll only hug your beautiful king of nightmares tighter.

Valefor is as reliable as Mammon, but he would take care of you in a slightly less spectacular (or shiny) way. He will spread his shield over the bed. You saw that nothing could squeeze through it; bah! if it tries, it will be annihilated. If you think this is too much, he will simply offer to turn on the light, check the wardrobe and under the bed, and give you his chest to lie on until you fall asleep. He will watch over you, patiently and lovingly stroking your hair and arm, until he feels that you are already breathing calmly and sleeping deeply. Only then would he gently wrap you in the blanket and fall asleep himself.

Stolas offers to kill it. You don't actually know how to kill a paranoia, but you know he would be capable of it. You decline this offer in case what you thought you saw was Amon. All you can do is hug him when he explains you that monsters do not exist, if they do exist, they can be killed, so there is no point in being afraid, especially when you are with him, because he will fight everything for you, blah blah blah… You will fall asleep, soothed by listening to his chatter like radio static.

[firesnap]

Rambling about bad c!Crime takes in 2024.

I think the struggle with being a c!Crime fan during peak DSMP was having to deal with the people who would unironically use "vilbur" like it was a badge of honor and the ones who legitimately thought c!Tommy was 8-years-old at the beginning of L'Manberg.

Like, I don't need to rehash a lot of this. A hundred meta essays were about how Tommy was not responsible for Wilbur's mental health, that he was a front row audience member watching Wilbur's decline and begging people to intercede because he was a damn teenager with zero tools in his kit for "help my brother is frightening me and he's ten feet from me but I think I've lost him in this cave."

But you can still see people go "Ok Tommy helped make Wilbur worse."

No. Just no Tommy's worst behaviors didn't impact Wilbur because Wilbur was so far into his own spiral at that point that it just didn't even phase him if Tommy called him insane. You can't put that on Tommy. When Wilbur came back he even said he could recognize the man he was back then was frightening and beyond what Tommy should have had to see.

But, saying Wilbur acted on violent delusions on Tommy or emotionally abused him or isolated Tommy on purpose... Girl this isn't exile arc and you're not getting c!Crime.

Wilbur and Tommy at their best were moments were like... Tommy with a shield in front of Wilbur, Wilbur with a hand on Tommy's shoulder saying to be better than Wilbur ever was, Tommy and Wilbur running through a small nation and dancing on beaches and laughing at how fucking much the other one sucked with every bit of affection in the world tied behind those words. It was a loop of I'd die for you, I'd die for anything but especially you and Who the fuck ever asked you to die??

At their worst they were a negative feedback loop that fed each other. Tommy was possessive of Wilbur, from even the early L'Manberg days, to the point where Wilbur often neglected other relationships to give Tommy attention. He was angry at Wilbur for falling off the pedestal that Tommy put him on. Wilbur was just as dependent on Tommy being always behind him and took advantage of the fact that Tommy wouldn't leave. He dumped his own fears and paranoia and self-hatred at Tommy's feet and then assumed that this person younger than him could sort through it.

And if you can't handle hearing how they fed the worst parts of each other, then maybe you aren't really here for that dynamic. Maybe you've made something else up in your head that you like more. And that's fine, man. Do whatever the server is gone. Just don't act like your personal version is what canon gave us.

Also, something something it's totally fine to dislike Wilbur's finale btw, but as imperfect as the execution was, it was right on board with what they were telling us about c!Crime from right when Wilbur was revived to Wilbur telling Ranboo that, essentially, Tommy would never leave him and Wilbur knew that wasn't healthy. They needed to break the cycle to save themselves and whatever brotherhood was between them.

They were about acknowledging they were tied to each other in fucked up and unhealthy ways, but needing that sense of brother so much that they were both afraid to do anything about it.

[the-fiction-witch]

Away

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Daemon Targaryen Couple - Daemon X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Niece, Viserys Second daughter with Aemma) Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1122

Y/n could barely believe the sights she was seeing, you'd think he had taken her to some magical realm not this dirty street in King's Landing. But Y/n had rarely been out of the red keep so this was a whole new world to her and she looked at it with wonder,

Daemon could sense her fascination. At this moment, she was a source of entertainment for him. His eyes drank it up. He wrapped her close under one arm, and guided her down the street, past the stalls and the drunks and the children shouting in pleasure and fear at the jugglers and tricksters and acrobats.

The young princess is beyond fascinated and she trusts her uncle likely more than she should, she stays within his grip giggling away with that wide innocent smile,

Daemon found her innocence adorable. She hadn't been corrupted by the capital or by the world yet, he squeezed her close by the shoulder. Your presence made him very comfortable and he began to speak, to bring up the matter he knew would upset her. "You know I won't be gone for long, sweetling." Then he kissed her head.

"but you always say that," she said almost childishly pouting as they walk, "you always say you won't be gone long and sometimes I don't see you for months, even years. And you only returned three months ago,"

Daemon smiled. 'She’s too cute.’ he thought, "That's true. But do you know why I was away for so long?" He asked.

"fighting a war..." She pouted,

"That's right, and what else?" He asked as he looked at her in the eye. "Wasn't I fighting to bring back the Targaryen legacy? Wasn't I trying to protect that in which our family has always believed? We Targaryen must never let anyone forget that we are superior to everyone else. Our blood runs in our veins with the blood of Old Valyria, of dragons."

"I know but... You were gone so long, you were away for three whole years. And you took all your men. Father just locked himself away with his new wife, rhaenyra of doing goodness knows what" she explained, "Everyone leaves me…” She sighed, “If you’re not here I'm always alone, locked away in my chambers, not even my king's guard protector will talk to me"

"I knew you were feeling sad for my absence, sweetling. How can I not feel love for a creature so gentle and beautiful like you?" Daemon kissed one of her cheeks and smiled, feeling guilty for keeping you alone. "Would you like to know about what I was doing in those three years?" He asked, knowing she wouldn't refuse.

"fighting I suppose," she chuckled a little,

Daemon chuckled seeing his little niece laugh. It was endearing to see her laugh that way. "Now I was fighting for Targaryen cause, just as you assumed. But it was more than just that. I was gathering supporters for your dear sister. No matter how the crown falls war is coming, other members of our family are merely too foolish to see it. I was preparing the ground for her rightful claim. I want the realm to recognize her claim above all others."

"a noble pursuit," she said slightly sadly,

"Does this sadden you, Sweetling?" he asked,

"I simply... Have no interest." She answered honestly as they walked through the streets, "My father is king, and in good health at least good enough to be attempting to sow more seeds with his new wife. You are off fighting wars and when in the city you are off leading the city watch into greatness. My sister preps for the throne as is her birthright. And as father has a son with his new bride it would be a fight between my sister and half-brother. I am... Irrelevant. A spare girl. In this world I am worthless and I have no doubt soon Father will sell me off to a noble house like Lannister or Baratheon for the sake of army numbers..."

Daemon listened intently Her words were wise and she was very mature. His protective instincts towards you kicked in full force as he heard her speak of this matter.

"You are not worthless, my sweetling. You have a dragon's blood in your veins. You are special. Your father can never sell you to a random Lord. You are a princess." he explained, "And besides, you are never worthless to me. You are my very special sweetling, you know that my little Y/n." He gave her a quick squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

"I know, but I worry Is all. One day you'll go away again and... Perhaps it'll be years before I see you again. Father will ship me to casterly rock, or storms end, or winter fell and I'll be away from everyone alone without any company at all....forced to... Squeeze out heirs of potential dragon blood,"

Daemon frowned. He hated the thought of her being shipped off to marry a boring lord who would just use her for their blood and nothing else. He felt jealous just by the thought of it. His eyes narrowed. "I won't allow that to happen, you know that." He said, his voice soft but with an edge to it, and he kept his voice so low that no one else could hear he took her by the arm and met her eyes with his,

"Father will wait till you go away again... Then he'll ship me off. No one but you would try and stop him"

"Don't worry. I promise that I won't allow your father to just marry you off like that. I would rather take to the sky on caraxes and burn the red keep to the ground than have you sent away to be some lord's babymaker." He chuckled, but he meant it. "You are far too precious for just marrying off somewhere. You are dragon blood. Valyiran blood. Targaryen.” He held her even closer, squeezing her close to his chest. "I will always come back to you and I will never let anybody hurt you or force you into something you don't want to do. Your father may be your King but I am your uncle, and I won't let anybody hurt my sweetling."

she squeezed him back even if it was clear she was frightened she knew her father had already been taking letters about betrothing her,

He found it heart-warming that she was so worried. It saddened him deeply and he felt a burning sensation in his blood, a fire boiling at the thought of her being used like a prize breeding mare and nothing more. "I know you have heard rumours about who your father wants to marry you off to but trust me, it won't happen. Not while I am here."

Part Two out now

[hooked-on-elvis]

ᴇʟᴠɪꜱ' ᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜰᴀꜱʜɪᴏɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ' ᴄᴏꜱᴛᴜᴍᴇꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ

A personal Elvis touch to some of his characters's wardrobe.

Recently me and @jhoneybees were drooling over Elvis in Girls! Girls! Girls! (1962) and Fun In Acapulco (1963). I couldn't stop thinking about the backwards rolled up cuffs shirts that his characters wear in some scenes in both films because they look so good in him! Then I realized that Elvis used to wear his shirts just like this occasionally in the 1950s, before his Hollywood career had begun.

(2-3) Elvis on May 21, 1955 backstage at the Louisiana Hayride at the Municipal Auditorium in Shreveport, Louisiana. (4-6) January 25, 1955. Elvis Presley. Tyler, TX. backstage Mayfair building.

(7) Elvis in Graceland in 1960. Here Elvis' acting career was already happening but he hadn't used the rolled-backwards sleeve cuffs shirts in the movies just yet (at least that I remember of), but that's gonna change in a couple of years.

(8-10) Elvis as Ross Carpenter in Girls! Girls! Girls! (1962).

(11-13) Elvis as Mike Windgren in Fun In Acapulco (1963).

Looking at those pictures I can imagine that Elvis himself did some styling to his character's wardrobe occasionally, very seldom I think. However it doesn't stop at the early 60s films… I noticed that again in Charro! (1969).

(14-15) The King as Jess Wade, with his one of his signature looks, the high collars (the jacket just appears for a brief moment in the film but when I saw it I was like 'Oh, Elvis... anyone could recognize you just by looking at your back from miles away...'

It's not like we need any pictures to proof high-collars were his thing but it won't cause any harm too, so...

Cool, isn't it? But, wait a minute, there's more! The next one was prior to Charro!

Right now, I can't say that Elvis in fact had any say-so concerning his characters costumes but that's my assumption based on a little studying on his history and by watching his movies but another thing gave me the idea he could do something about his costumes for the films.

Sandi Miller (fan/gate girl) shared on her Facebook account that she and another fan gave Elvis a jacket in 1966 while Double Trouble (MGM, 1967) was in production. Principal filming for Elvis's twenty-fourth movie began on July 11, 1966 and was finished by August 30, 1966. After the movie was released, visiting the fans as usual, Elvis told Sandi to watch a specific scene in the film and there it was! He was wearing the jacket she gave him.

August 3rd, 1966. Elvis off to the studio to film 'Double Trouble'. Candids by fan Sandi Miller.

On the pictures above, Sandi (on her Facebook account) said: "Elvis on his way to the studio to film 'Double Trouble.' On his lap is a jacket we gave him purchased from St. James mens shop in Fullerton." Fan Kathryn Harper Sherrill then asked Sandi: "And didn't he tell you to watch closely part of that film & your jacket was used in a scene of the film when he was packing or unpacking?" For what Sandi replied: "Yes, he did!"

On that post Sandi doesn't specify which jacket it was, unfortunately, but I followed the hint and looked for a scene Elvis' character was packing in the film. The jacket Sandi Miller gave EP is most likely this one below. He's wearing it while he sings 'City By Night' and also 'Old MacDonald' in that portion of the film.

Wasn't it thoughtful of him to wear a jacket gifted to him by a fan in one of his films?

This is Elvis in 1966, returning or leaving his Hillcrest home in California, during the Double Trouble movie production period. The jacket looks like the same he wore in the film for those scenes I mentioned previously.

Conclusion: I guess it's safe to say that Elvis sometimes would style his costumes a little bit, putting something more of himself into his characters beyond the unmistakable charm, humor and talent. i don't know if that's a good thing to do because most actors' goals is to have a character that requires them to transform their image and behaviors to a point the characters don't resemble their off-screen personas in the slightest but, knowing how Elvis' movies were so… unusual… specially made to please Elvis' audience as they were (always craving for more) and how that caused the screenplays not to have real efforts put into that would give EP the need to really become someone else for his movies, it's not exactly wrong of him to incorporate his own persona (to a given extent) into the characters he played. All in all, I guess that makes his acting career even more unique. Elvis was not an ordinary artist after all. At times being that spectacular human being backfired, and Elvis just… went with the flow.

Those are just a few moments I noticed when Elvis' fashion style was lent to his on-screen characters. Have you noticed any other moments in the movies where this happens?

[meownotgood]

let us live, if we must die. / chapter three: eclipse

You are a witch, and since the purging of all magic, you've been forced to live a life of solitude and secrecy. Your destiny was always beyond your control — until, by a pure twist of fate, you unknowingly fell for the kingdom's only prince. 

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pairing: prince!aki x witch!reader

word count: 15.3k

tags: fantasy au, royalty au, reader is fem, reader has many Thoughts, hurt / comfort, aki comforting reader, angst, but don't worry they're figuring things out

notes: thank you for patiently waiting for this chapter, I hope you enjoy it!! the next chapter will be long as well, so I appreciate your patience again... love you and appreciate you

masterlist read on ao3 join the taglist here!

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You always knew Aki was royalty. 

In the time since you first hid away in this forest, you've learned to take necessary precautions. You track the whereabouts of demons each time you go out, drawing them away with spells, and watching for fresh footprints. You learned to attune yourself completely to the magic circle you created, to be sure you'll catch the faint waves of an unfamiliar aura the moment it enters. 

Spells can summon certain books from a handful of easy to find materials, and those books can then be used to summon more. Your mother's grimoires, the few you managed to take with you when you fled the city, became your gateway into a world you'd never once known. 

Deciphering magical tomes takes patience. It's a lengthy process, but it's worth it. You've learned the means to make valuable potions, and you've mastered spells that could save your life: invisibility, hypnosis, spell-shields. With so much time on your hands, and with the unbound freedom to do so, you have no reason to ever stop honing your magic. 

You can always learn more, you can always be safer. You must be prepared for every situation, and you need to take all outcomes into account. No-one can be trusted; no-one but yourself. In the moment of truth, you can't afford to make any mistakes. You need to be ready. For anything, and everyone. 

And so, when an inexplicable, elven, injured stranger comes knocking — and promptly passes out — at your door, the first damn thing you're going to do is check all his pockets. 

It doesn't take the wisdom of a thousand year old wizard to know he was from the city. The kingdom is the only notable settlement for miles. There's small towns here and there. Farmland you'll pass if you're making your way to the gates. No offense to him — to Aki, right, you still need to learn his name — but he doesn't seem like a farm boy. Or an adventurer. Or royalty, for that matter. 

You couldn't have known. Obviously, he'd be from the city, but royalty? An alleged demon-hunter and a man of royalty, how does that make any sense? 

Staring up at the shadow-filled ceiling of your bedroom, you pull your blanket up to your chin, and rub your pained temple with two fingers. You can't seem to get comfortable, no matter how much you've been tossing and turning in your bed. The living room has been silent. Aki is probably asleep now. Your mind can't seem to stop racing, either, and perhaps that's why you can't catch any sleep. 

The clothes he showed up in were simple. Racking your brain and snuggling into your bed, you bring yourself back to the moment you met him. You recall the discomfort in his expression, the crimson on his palm. The way moonlight framed him with dark hues and fuzzy edges. 

You don't know enough about jewelry to be able to tell if the earrings on his pointed ears are the expensive sort. They're simple, black, and made with smooth metal. You remember seeing a gemstone you couldn't recognize, delicately placed in the center of a hanging star. Now that you're thinking about it, they could be worth more than your life, if you're unlucky. Or maybe they're worth nothing, you suppose. Just the sort of imitations they sell for substantial mark-ups at early morning markets. 

After the mysterious stranger passed out on your doorstep, you dragged him inside and out of the rain. You didn't have a choice in the matter at the time, really. He was already limp and Gods, was he heavy. Setting up the cot and plopping him onto it was the true challenge. 

Miraculously, you found no other major injuries once you inspected him. And thankfully, most of the plant life you collected that day is perfect for healing. 

Thankfully for him, at least. You weren't exactly thrilled to spend your entire stock on someone else. You'll have to put your plans to practice potion-making on hold, you suppose. In any case, he came at just the right time. Thank the Gods for that. 

The gash on his side was as dire as you thought. It was a jagged, clearly painful slice, no doubt made by the trained swipe of a demon's talons, and enough to make you wince when you removed his shirt to examine it. Demons usually aim for the throat, whenever possible. Aki is lucky he managed to throw one of them off its aim. 

You tended to the wound quickly, cleaning it with fresh water, and salving it with herbs. Finally, you wrapped his torso in makeshift bandages, tearing off parts of your cape when you began to run out. 

You rinsed his shirt, scrubbing what stains you could out of the fabric. Upon further inspection, you noticed his hands were covered in scrapes. His fingers are long and thin. Pretty, almost. His palms were calloused, rough to the touch. Dried blood was caked into his skin. Carefully, you scrubbed the blood from his palms and his knuckles, while you tried to keep your gaze from drifting up to his face. A pointless endeavor, in the end. 

His hair fanned out around him, still slightly-damp. His brows were pinched as he slept. Warm firelight danced softly over his features: a sharp jaw, a straight nose, messy bangs. You forced yourself to look away, your face growing hot. You can't get distracted. Before he wakes, you have more important things you need to take care of. 

Once you were all finished patching him up, you leant close to make sure he was still sleeping; his chest rose and fell steadily, he exhaled in slow, calm breaths. Then, you proceeded to rummage through what he had on him. If you couldn't pick his brain yet, your best shot at discerning who he is or what he's after would be to search his belongings — and that you did. 

His pants had no pockets on the back, but two in the front. The left pocket was empty, save for one silver coin. Money means nothing to you, and so you returned it, right where it was. A promise to get out of your hair eventually was the only payment you needed. 

The other pocket, however, did carry something. Something very, very terrible. 

In the right pocket of his trousers, you found a small, gold medallion. It was smooth, circular, with a sparkling blue gem in the middle — reminiscent of the sea, and the color of his eyes. Intricate engravings surrounded the stone: runic text you couldn't quite make out in the low light, and the sun, the moon. Along with a winged dragon, curled around the empty space. 

Your heart sank so deep in your chest you just about let it drown, and that's when you knew you were absolutely doomed. 

This is the kingdom's symbol, the kingdom's royal crest. Commoners and knights are allowed to carry similar motifs, but only someone of great importance would have a medallion with this stone, and these exact symbols. 

Sapphires are only meant to be worn by descendants of royal families. They're priceless. Imitations can rarely capture their luster, although creating them is punishable with prison time — and Gods, with the way this gem sparkles when you hold it close to the fire, your head is practically spinning. 

You hold the medallion in shaky, unsure hands, unable to tear your gaze away. The room begins to twirl around you, and the gem inside shimmers, with a depth unlike anything you've ever seen. As though worlds upon universes are hidden inside it. Your throat feels as dry as a desert, and your heart won't stop hammering. You glance up. None the wiser, the man you've saved is still sleeping peacefully, his features soft, and his lips parted slightly as he lets go of faint, steady breaths. 

Oh, you've really done it this time. Could you have crossed paths with anyone worse? 

Perhaps he's a thief. He could have stolen the medallion, snatched it right out of the pockets of some oblivious royal advisor, and now he's hiding out here to avoid getting caught. As much as you want to believe that, as much as you want to imagine you don't have a man of importance in your cottage right now, that conclusion hardly makes sense. 

This man, a thief? And one skilled enough to steal a royal medallion, of all things? With the way Aki came stumbling into your magic circle and onto your doorstep, you doubt he'd know subtlety if he was hit over the head with it. 

He doesn't talk like how you imagined royalty would — Granted, how does a royal person talk? You always imagined some sort of overly flowery, fancy speech. Like the kind in the books you've read, about places and tales you'd much rather escape to. 

Aki. You've never heard a name quite like his before. Just a few syllables, just a few letters. Kings and princes and squires usually have much fancier names, don't they? The knight in the book you've been reading is named Heinrich Vincent, and the princess is called Miss Edith Violet. Perhaps only the most important people have important names. Or perhaps, those books are just as you assumed they were: fairytales, and nothing more. 

Aki is someone special then, he must be. That's your assumption — it's the only assumption you can come to, despite how the very thought makes your chest ache. He's probably a royal guard, someone with a bit of fighting experience, who thought he could stand a chance against a forest full of devils. Maybe he's some duke's distant cousin. He could be a mere knight, accepted as royalty after he became a princess' suitor. 

Honestly, he could be anything, for all you care. Your magic is what caused him to nearly die out there. It was your spell, your doing that drew the demons together. You, heralding demons with your magic, like you're one of the archmages the history books warn about. 

Your magic. Damn it all. The predicament you've found yourself in is so much worse than you ever could have imagined. 

As the night stretched on and the rain battered your cottage, your more present problem helped to keep your worries at bay. You kept busy, preparing his medicine, and tending to the roaring fireplace. He mumbled in his sleep, occasionally. It wasn't really anything of note, merely fragmented sentences that barely made sense. Mumbled swears and slurred, barely-there apologies to no-one in particular. 

When the man awakened, you held your resolve. You ignored the skip in your heart when his soft eyes met yours. You kept your unpracticed voice from wavering, and didn't shy away from any conversations. 

It's been a very long time since you've heard someone else talk, especially this much. Those knights from ages ago only spared you a moment and a handful of words. Your own voice is comfortable, a melody your ears would gladly be wrapped in. You hate this, though. You despise the way you sound when your tone is threatening to wobble. The lump in your throat is all his fault; you can't think when he's speaking to you, can't focus on anything but the firelight as it flickers over his face. 

And Aki's voice is smooth. Ridiculously smooth. He sounds assured when he speaks, his tone deep, words careful. You can't help but be hung onto everything he says to you, your spine tingling and your heart racing. It's strange, to hear a voice besides your own for once, and to have someone else filling the empty space in your quiet little cottage. 

Aki's voice holds the ocean, every word plunging you into deeper depths, until he has warm waves rolling gently over your shoulders. Heat and exhilaration engulf you whole at the simplest of sentiments. Thinking to yourself, you toss and turn again, your worn, wooden bed creaking slightly from your movement. Even now, you can't help but think of him. You picture his voice, quiet and calm. You imagine the soft smiles he gave you, and your veins surge with a feeling you can't possibly describe. 

You could listen to him speak forever. But Aki and forever are two luxuries you aren't afforded. 

If he ever discovers who you are or what you've done, you won't even get a trial. He would hate you. You could never be allies, not with the secrets you hold. Not when he is royal, and you are a witch. 

A man with such important ties to the kingdom, royalty or not, could make your fate whatever he wished. They'd schedule your execution for the very next morning, surely. The sooner you're disposed of, the better it is for the land. Hundreds would crowd the square to gawk at the witch a nobleman captured. Your poor mother would be frowning upon you from the heavens, as she watched her only child suffer her same fate. 

Even as your eyes met those of your executioner, your hands tied behind your back with your wrists rubbed raw from the rope, and your head rested over a thick piece of wood, you wouldn't fight back. None of them would see an ounce of your magic, for better, or for worse. It would die with you, and everything would be your fault. You should have been more careful. Less kind. 

Would Aki want to dispose of you himself? Could he be the one to bring his blade down on your neck? Would his normally-gentle expression be contorted in disgust, guilt, or conviction, as he whispered a deathly quiet I'm sorry to you, before his hands tightened on the hilt? 

You aren't sure, nor do you want to know. If he ever proves dangerous, in order to survive, you would have to take matters into your own hands. He seems to trust you now, but if you became enemies, if you were ever forced to —

Aki's soft, slight smile drifts through your mind right then. In your dark bedroom, you can't help but groan, and cover your face with your hands. 

No, you couldn't, you wouldn't. And it isn't just because it's him. It isn't simply because Aki is inexplicably kind and intriguing and the first person to speak with you in years. When you imagine him discovering the truth, learning who you are and deciding he hates you, a metaphorical knife twists into your gut. You'd rather he just take you to the kingdom and have you dealt with there, because even with your life on the line, you know you couldn't hurt him. 

This man could very well lead you to your end. So why, why did you tell him to stay? 

Death has always scared you, always haunted you. You've heard the stories they tell of mages, tales painting them as wicked beings who crush those who stand in their way under their feet. You want to be better. Pin you as soft, weak, or everything in between, you hardly care. Magic was meant to help, not harm. One day, perhaps far after your lifetime, magic and death won't walk hand in hand. One day, you hope you might be free. 

And Aki — he would have died without you, you're sure of it. He might not be an adventurer, but you can buy that he's an experienced fighter. His body is covered in scars, in slashes left by devil claws or teeth. His palms are rough and calloused, which would make sense if he often wields a sword. He claimed to be a devil hunter, and when he spoke, the clearest sense of desperation present in his voice, you couldn't help but believe him. 

You are a mage. A terrible, less than human blight, according to those in the kingdom. And Aki might be royalty. If you ever wound up following him to the city like he offered, you could be punished for even laying a single finger on him. 

But were you just supposed to let him perish? 

When you stood frozen in place at your door, clutching your heart as thunder broke through the night sky above, you were reminded of the kingdom. Of the death you witnessed there: the deaths of strangers, your acquaintances, your family. Your mind whirled with the image of the man you saw through the door's peephole. Chest heaving, blood dripping over his fingers; dull crimson, like the blade of an executioner's sword. 

You've seen the way one looks when light is slipping from their eyes, with no hope left of clinging onto it. You imagined the sapphire spark to Aki's eyes fading into nothingness; crushed, and crumpling. Right then, your mind must have made itself up. 

Aki doesn't deserve to die. Royalty be damned, he doesn't deserve to be eaten by those demons, left behind in an endless forest, afraid and alone. Trusting him here might wind up as the worst, most regrettable decision you've ever made. And yet, he has already trusted you with his life, hasn't he? 

Your heart just needs to take the first, fatal step. Perhaps you need to let yourself trust. 

Fucking hell. You need to stop your incessant thinking and let yourself sleep, that's what. Honestly, you've never felt this stressed in your entire life. How in the world are you supposed to handle this? Handle him? 

He won't discover you're a mage, you'll make certain of that. You can't afford to be naive, no matter how you might be feeling. It doesn't matter how fast your heart is pounding right now as you lie in bed, sleepless, unable to keep your steady stream of thoughts from flowing back to him. Simply put, it's your fault he's in this mess in the first place — and you're going to be the one to fix it. 

With a few small adjustments, you can make sure all of the magical items in your cottage are properly hidden away. You could heal him faster, if you were allowed to use magic. A potion would have him feeling better in no time, a healing spell could seal his wound almost immediately. Though, obviously, you'll have to work with the old ways for now. You'll need to make sure you're waking up early tomorrow to gather the necessary materials. 

His wound will need to be tended to frequently, to keep it from getting infected. You'll prepare a concoction of herbs for him to take twice a day, and that'll help to keep his energy up. Rest will be important too, of course. There's plenty of normal, boring books strewn around your cottage, if he needs something to put him to sleep. As long as everything goes to plan, he should be fine to leave in a couple of days. 

Right. Just a few days, and he'll be gone. The stranger you met by chance, who you saved on purpose, will fade into the forest until he becomes a fuzzy, unimportant blip in your memory. 

Somehow, the thought doesn't fill you with the relief you would've expected. 

In your cupboard, you still have some white-hazel left. Normally, the small, thin-petaled flowers don't grow during this time of year. You've decided to start keeping some extras as of late, just in case. White-hazel makes the mind foggy. The dried petals have to be sealed carefully in a jar, because the smell alone can get into your head. You would use small batches of it to ward away demons, before your distraction spells were perfected. 

You doubt you'll ever be able to forget him. However, with a potent enough dosage, if you gave Aki some of those petals, you could erase every memory he has of you. 

You'll allow him to stay, just long enough so he can recover. Once he's healthy, you'll send him on his way with a filled flask — a potion, infused with a hint of your magic. He'd only need to take a sip or two. Then, everything up until the moment he entered the forest would be lost. He wouldn't remember you, or your cottage, or the pain the demons brought upon him. It's better this way, really. 

In the meantime, you must avoid growing closer to him. Revealing even the smallest of details could put you at risk, before you have the chance to make good on your plan. He doesn't have to know your name. Nor anything about you. 

Aki is nothing more than a stranger, an unlucky coincidence, an empty promise. Ultimately, he will stay that way. 

When you eventually drift off to sleep, it isn't until hours later. Your heart stays tied up in knots, and you dream of nothing but a cold, shuddering darkness. 

— 

One thing's for sure, if Aki is a man of royal blood, he certainly doesn't act like it. 

He isn't… uncouth, as a fancy nobleman might call it. Actually, he's pretty damn polite. He always keeps his space in the living room tidy. His voice is gentle when he speaks to you, dripping with a thick sense of kindness you aren't at all used to. In the few days since he first started staying with you, he's been nothing but patient and respectful.

He's kept to resting, mostly. After the first night, you managed to move all of your spellbooks and magical items to your bedroom. By the second, you had properly concealed everything behind magic that should be impossible to detect. Although you weren't about to give him a reason, you finally made sure to mention he should continue sleeping in the living room, and avoid entering your bedroom under any circumstances. 

When you told him this morning, Aki didn't question it. He flashed you a slightly amused look, while he tugged on the laces of his boots to tighten them, and plainly, he answered, Of course. It's your bedroom, obviously I wouldn't go in. Do you take me as rude? 

Huh. No, he's far from rude, even though you never wound up formulating a response. He doesn't complain about the bitter herbs you have him take. He barely winces or grumbles while you tend to his wound, rewrapping his bandages. 

Sometimes you'd find him pacing around the living room to stretch his sore legs, but otherwise, he's been getting plenty of rest in his cot — just as you'd instructed. He's so quiet some days, if you're reading or tidying things in your bedroom, you'll tend to forget he's even there. Aki is different from what you were expecting, that's all. 

He's a good sort of different, though. Maybe it's your fault, for having such silly expectations in the first place. You thought people from the kingdom — especially people of royalty — were supposed to be stuck-up, selfish, boring. Overly-posh, and with nothing interesting to talk about besides themselves. 

You admired those from the castle when you were younger. You wanted to be noticed by them, or maybe you wanted to be them. Now, you can only imagine royalty as bland and heartless. They spend their days cooped up in their castles, tending to dull affairs. And for their nights, they attend such fancy dinners and parties, while the commoners in the kingdom are left to rot. 

Aki serves to defy all of those expectations. 

Granted, the moments you've spent together since the night you first took him in have been few and far between. He didn't seem to notice how you initially avoided him, and he didn't protest when you'd leave for the entire day to forage. He doesn't comment whenever you stow away, the door to your bedroom shut tight, while you keep to yourself for hours at a time. It's difficult to find words whenever he's near. You get choked up inside, your heart pounds in your ears like that of a frightened rabbit, and you aren't sure if it's because of the lingering fear, or perhaps the proximity. 

Tending to his wound shouldn't be the event your overthinking brain makes it out to be, but Aki sits so close, closer than anyone else has ever been. You can hear the echoes of his breathing, can feel his soft and scarred skin underneath your fingertips. His muscles tense as you press gently to the sore scrape on his side. 

Can he hear the quickened edge to your breathing, too? You wonder if Aki knows he's already killing you from the inside; no-one has ever trusted you like this, just as you've never trusted another. It's relieving to know your foolishness is mutual. 

Your conversations while you're patching him up are pleasant, albeit brief. They're space and silence fillers. Still, it's the only time where you truly get to talk to him. Where you can exchange more than a couple of words, at least. You know you only have yourself to blame, but you don't want him to realize you know more than you're letting on. You try to keep your time together and your questions to a minimum. 

Aki explains that although he's found himself in plenty of scuffles with devils before, he hasn't been wounded like this in quite a long while. Weaker devils rarely faze him, but this time, he was distracted. It'll be relieving to finally recover, he says. He wants to be able to move, to fight again. He's been growing a little stir-crazy here, apparently. 

In a hurry to leave, are you? You mumbled, while you carefully pressed a damp rag to his skin, your gaze focused on the task. The fireplace crackled from beside you, warming your limbs and chasing away the cold chill of the night. You miss the kingdom that much? 

I don't miss it at all. Aki answered, not missing a beat. He shivered from the coolness of the cloth, a fire-lit glow pooling over his slightly-tanned skin. I just feel like I could be more useful. I'm not accustomed to… to this. You're the first person I've ever owed my life to. The sooner I recover, the sooner I can begin finding some way to repay you. 

You wanted to reassure him repayment won't be necessary. In the end, you held your tongue. 

Aki continued, and with nothing else to fill the air, you listened. He's quite a good story-teller, in your opinion. As your fingers curiously felt the ridges of another deep scar on his stomach, Aki recounted the tale behind it: he was far from the city. Miles and miles, in fact. The devil he encountered was three times his size. It had a body made of bone, with a wolf-like, hollow skull, illuminated only by red eyes that shone like glowing, flickering flames. 

And you defeated it? You hum in slight disbelief, a brow raised; this time, you're looking up at him, bandages held loosely in your hands. All by yourself? 

Yes, all by myself, Aki answers, tone smooth and unflinching. His expression can't be read, but you swear you catch a hint of a barely-there smile on his lips. 

Defeating it was the easy part, He says, pointing to the jagged scar, Save for the blow it landed right here. I followed its trail into the mountains, and by the time I tracked it down, I was utterly lost. I slept out there for three days before I finally found my way back to the closest town. I showed up exhausted, hungry, and covered in every kind of scrape and bruise you can picture. 

You smooth out his bandages and secure them with a tight knot. Sounds like how we met. 

Yeah. Those townspeople weren't as kind as you are, though. They fed me river snails. 

Right then, you can't stop yourself from laughing. You're chuckling through your words — he sounded so damn serious — and you're gazing up at him with a rather playful grin. 

Snails? You question, Did they taste disgusting? 

Aki is smirking slightly, a potent spark burning in the back of his sapphire eyes. They were awful. Way worse than any medicine you could ever give me. I guess the people there thought the snails had healing properties- It took me a whole week to recover, by the way. And the inns were out of rooms, so can you guess where they had me stay? 

I'm not sure. Where? 

A brothel. 

When you freeze, your eyes going as wide as a full moon, Aki clears his throat, and he nervously glances between you and the fireplace. It was uneventful. Very, very uneventful. Definitely nothing like what you must be imagining- sorry. We should save the rest of those stories for another day. Right? 

You remember rolling your eyes, before you breathed an amused exhale, and proclaimed that yes, it certainly sounds like a stupid story, but you would like that. 

The logical side of you says you probably shouldn't. Aki isn't your ally, nor could he ever be your friend. Looking forward to the few moments you spend together is pointless, when the both of you will be forced to forget them in a few day's time. 

Aki's experiences are enthralling. His voice is like a damn vice, lulling you into getting lost in him. You haven't been anywhere but the kingdom many ages ago and this forest. But Aki has seen towns, oceans, and mountains. In pursuit of the devils he's set out to slay, he's been to places you could only dream of. He is a dream you cannot have, a friend you must not make. 

As the days stretch on and on, and as your forgotten dreams meld with the intricate stories Aki recounts for you, those little talks seem to stick inside your mind. 

If only things were different. If only you weren't you, and he wasn't what you know him to be. A man of royalty, conversing with a witch. 

Darkness will always be ruined by light. 

For now though, you have to focus on the present. Aki has been healing well from his injury. In only a few days, he's recovered most of his energy. Although he still needs a bit more time before he can put a true amount of strain on himself, he's fine to walk, at least. Fine to leave the cottage, as long as he isn't wandering far. 

And he's well enough that he can finally join you, as you venture into the depths of the forest to search for the belongings he left behind. 

— 

"Do you think my bag is still out here?" 

Staring down at your feet, you breathe a light tsk at that, and you kick a pebble with your next step forwards to send it skittering in front of you. "Possibly. Demons don't tend to mess with human junk. What did you have in there?" 

Aki hums in thought, his brows pinching. He attempts to count by using his fingers. "I had a notebook, a pen, some ink, some gold… some clothes, I think. Nothing too important." 

"If they got into your bag, maybe they'd take the coins," You answer methodically, "But otherwise, everything should be right where you left it. Keep an eye out, and let me know if anything starts looking familiar." 

The bright rays of the sun warm your bare skin, shining onto your arms and shimmering over the rippling, shallow water. You've been following the river's edge for a while now, walking along the path it creates while occasionally veering closer to the forest to look around. Aki couldn't recall exactly where he was attacked; not that you can blame him. That night was dark, stormy, and either way, every tree and bush and field of grass looks exactly the same. However, he did remember hearing the babble of the river nearby. Following it gives you the best chance of finding his things, you suppose. 

Today, the sky is bright blue and cloudless. Gravel crunches under your boots. The river laps at the rocks, and morning songbirds chirp from the distant trees. With your hands shoved in your pants pockets, and your gaze focused on your feet, you make sure to take careful steps over fallen logs and twisted roots. Aki keeps pace beside you, following you more than he's following the river. 

His hair is half-tied up like the day you met him, showing off his delicate earrings and pointed ears. He looks much different in the sunlight. More handsome, surely, spotted rays shining through the forest's canopy to paint amber patterns across his skin. The sleeves of his tunic have been rolled up to expose his scarred forearms. 

He keeps a healthy level of distance from you, not straying too far or walking too close. He's glancing between the path ahead, the forest, and sometimes to you. You're glad. If he was any closer, you doubt you'd be able to keep your thoughts clear. 

Demons — or devils, as he calls them — are few in number during the early morning hours, so you made sure to leave with Aki just after dawn. By now, you likely have two or three hours at most, before the devils start appearing from their dens. 

You're already halfway along the river's trail. You should be able to finish searching, and you'll have plenty of time to head back to the cottage. You'll plan to collect some herbs and mushrooms on the way back. That way, locating Aki's belongings or not, this trip won't end up a total bust. 

You'll find his things though, hopefully. This side of the forest was where you placed your distraction rune. 

Aki has to walk a bit slower than you. Clearly, he's trying not to let the pain still left in his side show; he doesn't wince or falter much from the pace you've set. Although you don't mind, you aren't used to having to wait for someone else to catch up. You fall into a rhythm of skipping ahead, hopping over stones, and then stopping once you get a short way in front of him. Aki gives you an entertained look when you wait, turning back to glance at him. You decide to deliberately slow down to keep yourself at his side, and you try to ignore the heat you feel budding at the back of your neck. 

The sun's warmth is calming. It shines sparsely through the trees, evoking a heavy feeling in your veins when it hits your skin. If it wasn't for Aki walking so close beside you, you'd probably have fallen asleep standing up. You roll your shoulders backward, and stretch your arms to the sky. Then, you yawn, trying to blink away the fuzziness in your vision. To no avail, unfortunately. 

"Tired?" Aki pipes up. You hadn't noticed he was looking at you until his voice startled you awake. 

You rub your eyes, shrugging. "Kind of. But I'll be fine." 

If you instead were honest with him, with yourself, you are very tired. Your head feels weighed down by thick stones, as large and cumbersome as the ones in the river bed. Your limbs feel weaker and more sluggish than usual, as though they're actively working against you. Since Aki started staying in your cottage, you haven't slept well at all. Last night, you kept tossing and turning, thinking just to think some more. Your mind won't keep steady. 

You hate not knowing exactly what you're supposed to do. You hate that you can't figure him out, no matter how much you think or try to pry information from him. Your messy plan could go awry a thousand different ways because of a thousand different things and — 

Aki is still staring at you. Blinking, you turn away, hoping he didn't notice you zoning out. 

"You sure?" Aki asks, a brow raised. Okay, he totally noticed. "That's probably the fourth or fifth time you've yawned in the past five minutes. We can take a break, if you'd like. I wouldn't mind pushing our search back to tomorrow." 

"I'm okay, really," You scoff. You kick another pebble, and watch as it flies into the river, pushed by the current for a bit before it slowly sinks to the bottom. "Let's just hurry. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we'll be safe from demons." 

For a couple of moments, you both fall into silence. The only sound to echo between you is your boots crunching the gravel. But still, Aki's gaze is on you: astute and sparkling. Even though you're staring at your shoes, you can clearly see him glancing at you from the corner of your eye, his mouth pressed into a focused line. He's pondering. Was it something you said? 

You didn't mess up, did you? 

Aki breathes a small hmm, and he calmly concludes, "You aren't familiar with devils, are you?" 

Suddenly, you're stopping in your tracks. Aki freezes beside you. His expression is unreadable as you turn to face him, giving him a particularly annoyed look. 

"What makes you say that?" You retort, hardly trying to hide the bit of harshness laced through your tone. You've been fighting the stupid creatures for almost your entire life, of course you're knowledgeable about them. Knowledgeable enough, at least. 

"Well, you call them demons," Aki replies, sounding indifferent. "Pretty sure my great grandparents were the last ones to call them that." 

"It's the same thing." You turn back to following the river, and continue walking while you speak. "I've survived out here for as long as I have, with demons lurking in every inch of this forest. And you think I know nothing of them?" 

Demons. You couldn't recall what your parents might've called them, or what those in the kingdom knew them as. During your earliest days in the forest, you remember summoning a book on, to quote the book's title: Formidable Demons and Magical Creatures. The book must have been centuries old. At the time, you didn't have enough experience to decipher it. You flipped through the pages and memorized the illustrations of "known demons", before tucking the tome away on your shelf, to be read at a later date. 

Damn. You have plenty of first-hand experience, but if most of your knowledge is sourced from some dusty old book you never actually wound up finishing, maybe he's right. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way," He apologizes, speeding up a bit so he can continue walking beside you. "I'm not knocking how resourceful you are, it's impressive. Perhaps I should have worded it differently. You're familiar with devils, yes. But I think your perspective of them might be much different from mine." 

Your eyes narrow. Thinking, you cross your arms in front of you, and your gaze drifts back to the path ahead. 

"Okay, so," You start, your words a bit less assured this time, "I know demons- devils- come in multiple forms. They feed off of fear, they're always carnivores, and they can only be slain, they'll never die of old age. There. Promise you'll cut me some slack if I missed anything." 

"Don't worry," Aki hums, "That was perfect. Devils grow stronger in the presence of fear. I'm sure you already know as much. They become drawn to the fear people have for them, like a moth to firelight." 

When you find yourself absently glancing back towards Aki, your eyes wind up meeting his own. Holding his gaze feels soft, as though you're falling into clouds. You examine the distinct, pointed shape of his ears. His earrings shimmer once they catch the sunlight, and sway slightly with each of his steps. 

"Correct me if this isn't right, but I've heard demons love elves." Your brows form the slightest pinch. "Supposedly, their blood is ripe with magic." 

Aki laughs. "Those stories about elves are just tales. My blood is no more delicious than yours. And either way, even if it was true, I'd wager devils haven't done a very good job at making me their prey." 

"Makes sense. I guess those creatures don't care whose blood they're spilling, as long as they can get their fix of it." 

"What else do you think of them?" Aki asks, his head tilted slightly in your direction. "Of devils, I mean." 

You fall silent. Cautiously, carefully, you attempt to figure out what sort of answer Aki is wanting to hear. 

The oldest tales, just as old as the ones you once read about elves and kings and long-gone magical creatures, say devils were born jealous of humanity. They envied the magic humans were capable of using — and so, they sought to extinguish it. Your current understanding would tell you devils don't care for magic, or humanity, or jealousy. All they desire is destruction, for common folk and mages alike. 

The relationship between humanity and devils is reciprocal. Humans and elves are the only ones capable of destroying devils, but devils need people in order to grow stronger. Devils need their fear, their torment. Weaker devils will go after whatever they're capable of hunting, but intelligent devils know how to bend people to their advantage. They excel at manipulation. And as senseless as it might seem, devils do possess plenty of things humanity does not. 

You fiddle with the straps of your backpack, running your thumbs over the smooth leather and gold buckles. In response, you can only think to offer the most simple, obvious of statements. 

"I think anyone who chooses to make a deal with a devil is a fool." 

Aki goes quiet. Then, he grins, and breathes something of a half-laugh, half-sigh. The gentle sound does well to put you at ease. 

"Yeah," He replies, "Foolish, greedy, or desperate. Or perhaps all three. Careful-" 

Nearly tripping, you stop when he does. You almost walked right into a large log, where the river bends and breaks upon the mossy wood blocking its way. Aki briefly extends his hand out for you to take, but you hop over without his help, taking a large step over the log before returning your hands to your pockets. 

He's making that same endearing, pondering face again. 

"You've probably already heard this story, but," He begins, speaking while you both walk, "They say devils came into existence the day the elves cast their first spell. Mankind was impure. The Gods made devils our punishment for casting magic ripe with impurities. When elves first discovered healing spells, devils began to appear with the ability to heal themselves of any attack inflicted upon them. Humanity discovered fire magic. Then came devils with fire-drenched skin. Their bodies melted metal, and they scorched the ground they touched, leaving an ashen trail in their wake." 

You like the way Aki tells stories. He recounts them in such a deliberate way, as though he's reading directly from one of your fairytale books. This story is grim, and certainly one you've heard before. Yet, you can't stop the smile that begins to tug at your cheeks. 

"Mhmm. And then, the devils slaughtered everyone and left the world in ruin," You tease, glancing towards him playfully, your hands at your hips. "Do you enjoy scaring children with that old story?" 

"Occasionally. My version of it usually ends with humanity defeating the devils, though. You know, happy endings and such." 

"Right. A happy ending sounds nice. Don't want to scare them too much." 

Aki hums in agreement. "We could have one- a happy ending. That story isn't over yet." 

His story, or yours? 

You swallow, thickly and heavily. The trees above you whisper in the slight wind, and the river babbles, flowing steadily downstream. You try to keep your focus on the path ahead of you, instead of Aki walking beside you. 

"It's just a story," You assert. "Maybe magic was the source of demons a thousand odd years ago, but it hardly matters now." 

Aki's mouth forms the faintest pout, and he glances down at his shoes. "I'm sure it isn't much of a surprise, but I've never actually seen magic." 

"You probably never will," You answer, your voice turning somber, resolute. "People believe magic and mages to be dangerous. As long as they continue to think anyone capable of casting magic is a devil themselves, you won't even hear an utterance of the word." 

"Do you agree with them?" Aki asks flippantly, a brow raised. 

"Huh? What do you mean?" 

"Do you think mages are dangerous?" 

Out of everything he could have said, everything he could have possibly mentioned, why would Aki ask you such a question? 

Right then, you're sure your heart must have defied gravity and reason to drop directly into your throat. You nearly choke. Your spine prickles, unease running rampant through your system. You aren't sure how you manage to come up with any words in the first place, but somehow, you decide to talk without thinking. 

Your shoulders feel tense. "Obviously. Magic could be used to level a city, to mind control a king, to win any war. Or to start one, for that matter." 

Aki hums. For once, his smooth, persistently calm voice grows close to getting on your nerves. "It's difficult. Magic has already done so much harm, but it could do just as much good. When I think of mages, I just see… people. People who want to survive. They aren't monsters or devils." 

You stop in front of him, and he stops with you. Aki's head tilts slightly. As though he knows you want to speak, he's just waiting for it. 

"You know," You're starting, brows pinched, arms crossed, "Those sorts of statements could get you strung up for heresy." 

"Good thing we're far from the city then, right?" 

Nearly, in a hazy mix of confusion and exhaustion and fear and admiration, you almost form a rebuttal. Your arms drop to your sides, and your hands become clenched into fists. Your lips part slightly, to say something your mind hasn't quite decided on yet, just to close at the tightening of your jaw. He's messing with you. He must be. 

Mages aren't people — You aren't like him, you are fundamentally different. Surely, he knows what mages truly are as well as you do. You were born with a spark in your veins and a fire at your fingertips. Humanity, and perhaps the Gods themselves are afraid of you. No-one can stomach you but yourself. Aki is but a man; a foolish, stupid mortal. And you were promised a cage. 

Aki's gaze on yours appears to soften, his arms crossed loosely, his gaze flickering from the conflict on your face to your stiffened posture. Nervously rubbing your arm with your palm, you can't meet his eyes anymore; you can only look away. Your vision chooses to focus elsewhere, on anything but him. Fortunately, just beyond where Aki is standing in front of you, if you squint, you can spot something at the edge of the trees. A leather bag, partially torn open, resting in a patch of grass and tiny flowers. 

"Hey, is that your stuff?" 

Aki's eyes widen, before he turns to look in the direction you've started pointing towards. 

"Well, shit." 

— 

The scene surrounding where Aki's bag lay discarded is true to what he previously described to you. 

As you approach, and as Aki kneels down to gather his things, you glance around the area. You find his sword amongst the grass a foot or so away, steel separated from hilt, the blade tainted with dull blood-stains. The steel is chipped — from gradual wear or from a devil's fangs, you aren't quite sure. His bag is crumpled. A medium-sized hole has been torn into the side, certainly made from a devil's sharp teeth. For now, you slide your pack from your shoulders, and allow him to put his belongings inside. 

There's no gold in his backpack, nor could he find any in the grass surrounding it, of course. There is, however, some rations, a spare tunic, a quill pen, and a notebook — still in his bag, so thankfully, the pages were kept dry from the rain. 

Aki fussed over losing a jar of ink, but you assured him it wouldn't be a problem. It'd be best to head into the woods anyways, to find herbs for him and food for the both of you. Black Dragon flowers are common in this area, and when crushed up, they can be used to make ink. If either of you could find a few blossoms, you'd be glad to make some for him. 

"In return," You said, as Aki rose to his feet, matching your gaze with a curious one, "See if you can find me some wood. A few branches might've fallen during the storm. I need something thick and sturdy. About this," You gesture with your hands — "Big." 

"Ah." He dusts the dirt from his knees with his palms, and hands your pack back to you when you reach out for it. "For firewood?" 

"No, silly. We have plenty. It's for carving." 

Aki smiles, perhaps considering, or perhaps recalling the little sculptures made from wood that are strewn throughout the shelves in your cottage. "Right. Deal." 

With a plan now in mind, you crammed what remained of Aki's bag into your own pack — to use for scrap material — and you ventured through the trees, and into the forest. 

It's much easier to keep your mind from wandering with a task to occupy you. Gathering some mushrooms for eating and finding the flowers you mentioned doesn't take too long. Together, you and Aki head a short ways into the forest, staying careful to keep far from where the devils often make their dens. This area is relatively safe regardless, but it's still good to be on your guard. You let yourself forget about your previous conversations, while you quietly show Aki the difference between the herbs he needs and the fauna he shouldn't touch. 

You don't talk much, only a few words at most, until you're busy gathering the last of what you need. 

Aki comes over, a smooth piece of wood held in his hands. Rested on your knees, you grab the stems of a handful of herbs, and swiftly tug to pull their roots from the ground. You glance up at him as he leans down to hand the wood to you. The canopy of trees is much thicker here. Shadows dance across his face, his arms, his palms and his clothes — still dusted with dirt from searching through undergrowth with you. 

Hardly befitting of royalty, isn't it? Isn't he? 

You smile to yourself, and chase away the thought. 

"Will this do?" Aki asks, turning the piece of wood over, while he runs his fingertips along its rough surface. "It's the best I've found so far." 

"Mhmm, that's perfect. Thank you." You take it from him, and reach for your pack beside you, flipping it open to stuff the wood inside. There's little space left, but eventually, you're able to fit it carefully beside a few small pouches of mushrooms and herbs. 

Aki stands. He hesitates, before he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck with his palm. "This… might be a stupid question. But it's still okay that I'm staying with you, right?" 

"Of course it is- It's fine." You shrug, your focus kept on the foliage. With more carefulness, you gather a few of the thickest leaves. They'll be good for sealing his wound, for guiding it to fully heal. "Why? You want to leave that badly, huh?" 

Aki tucks his hands into his pants pockets. "I don't want to intrude. That's all." 

"I already told you, you're staying until you get better. No protests." Your tone seems to carry a familiar lilt of annoyance, but to his surprise, when you stuff a bundle of herbs into your pack and glance up at him once you're finished, your gaze is warm. You're donning the slightest, softest smile. 

"And just so you know," You mutter, glancing between him and your backpack as you snap it's buckle shut, "Your company isn't unpleasant." 

"Huh." Aki breathes a light-hearted huff. "Is that a compliment?" 

"Partially." 

Glancing away, looking towards the forest, he can't help but mimic your smile — shyly, almost. It's stupidly endearing. You hate how endearing he is. 

"Your company isn't unpleasant either. I mean-" He stammers, "It's nice. I enjoy talking with you. I was thinking, if you'd like, when we get back, I could-" 

Still staring into the trees just beyond you, Aki stops. An abrupt, nerve-wracking pause follows, long enough and silent enough to have your gaze flickering over him. His jaw is set. His eyes are wide, his face is slightly panicked. You swallow, freezing up. Slowly, without moving a muscle, you follow where Aki is looking — just in time to see the bushes a fair distance in front of you rustle. 

The trees sway, whispering dark promises as the wind picks up, a sharp breeze gliding over your bare skin. It's probably nothing. No, it's surely nothing. The chance of a demon- a devil- traveling all the way out to this side of the forest without outside influence is slim. You know this, and yet — 

You're fine. You have to convince yourself, you need to remember that no matter what, you're going to be perfectly fine. If it is a devil, the most important thing is to keep your cool. Level your head and breathe deeply, just as you've learned and practiced, like the books you read have instructed. In, and then out. You need to breathe. 

It's fine. It might not detect you if you're able to stay calm. Perhaps you're panicking for no reason. You're exhausted, you're seeing things. Your weary mind is playing cruel tricks on you. The longer your stare lingers on those thick, rustling bushes and shadow-filled trees, the more your breath sharpens, the stronger your heart begins to thump — Fuck, why can't you just stay calm? 

Stay calm, stay calm. This is stupid, you're acting stupid. There's nothing, there has to be nothing; no danger, no devil waiting to attack and tear the both of you in two. You won't need to defend yourself, you won't have to blow your cover. What if he already knows? With the way he brought up mages earlier, maybe he's going to run and leave you to be ambushed, maybe he planned this, maybe — 

A gentle palm is placed on your shoulder, and you practically jump out of your own skin. 

You whip around to look at the man you nearly forgot was even there; Aki eyes you with concern, never tearing his gaze from you as you scramble to unsteady feet. Standing close beside him, closer than you should be, you're focused on the forest again. Stress is present in your features, while an obvious shake lingers in your limbs. 

"Aki-" You mumble, speaking on the edge of an anxiety-ridden whisper, "We need- Shouldn't we-" 

"We're fine," Aki answers calmly, quietly. He reaches for your hand, and he grabs it softly. His palm brushes your knuckles. His fingers caress your skin as he squeezes faintly, and your heart pounds so hard it displaces your ribs. "Look." 

He points, and you allow your hazy vision to come back into focus. Through the trees, approaching cautiously while hopping among the shadows, you spot the thin legs, patterned coat, and small horns of a baby Great Elk. 

Aki hums, "I've never seen a baby one before." He murmurs low enough for only you to hear, in pleasant disbelief. "They never get this close. Sorry, are you-" 

Suddenly, as he is turning towards you, you're pushing away, and yanking your hand away from his. 

"I'm fine," You answer, taking a few steps back. At the sound of your voice, no longer hushed, the baby elk runs, scampering back into the trees. Aki watches uselessly as you retrieve your backpack and sling it over your shoulders. "Let's just go."

Your voice is unsteady. Your gaze is focused on your shoes. You clutch the front of your cape, the space closest to your heart, and you press one hand to the back of the other. Idly, your palm runs over the shape of your own knuckles, as your teeth nervously find your bottom lip. 

You understand what it feels like to let fire dance in your palms, to have spell-spawned sparks flickering underneath your skin. This is far worse. The hand Aki touched feels as though it's burning. 

"I'm sorry," He murmurs, "For a second, I really thought it was-" 

"I said, let's go." 

You're already turning, walking in a direction he'd never recall if you left him to be lost out here, and so Aki has no choice but to follow. 

He sighs defeatedly. "Okay. That's alright. We can go." 

As you and Aki walk back to your cottage, you make your way there with the most distance that's ever been between you. 

— 

"Hold still." 

"Shit- Sorry. I'm trying." 

Aki flinches as you carefully press a cool, damp cloth to his side. Squinting, using the dim light from the fireplace and the flickering candles to illuminate your task, you focus on cleaning what remains of his wound. 

These past few days, although still a bit sore, it hasn't been bleeding much. What was once a large, gnarled gash has healed into a faint, red scrape. It probably won't leave much of a scar after all. He has your medicine to thank for his quick recovery. You weren't sure how the wound might fare after he spent the day traveling through the forest with you, but aside from a hint of discomfort, he seems relatively healthy. Still energized, even. After setting the rag aside, you grab a handful of fresh bandages, which you made from the scraps of his old, stained tunic. 

"It's healed well," You comment plainly. You and Aki are sitting on the wooden floor, cross-legged, close to the fireplace. Close in proximity. The persistent heat of the fire flutters across your arms and your back, chasing away the cool night air. 

Reaching into a wooden bowl, you use two fingers to smear a thick herbal mixture onto the inside of the bandages. Then, you swiftly begin to wrap them around his bare torso, taking note of the way his muscles flex. 

You breathe a low, inquisitive hum. "Still seems tender, though." 

"It is. A bit." Aki supports his weight with his palms, leaning back to give you more room. Firelight curves over his chest, his shoulders, his collarbones. "But I'm doing alright, thanks to you. I'm sure I'll be fully healed soon." 

And soon, he'll be leaving. 

You try not to think about it as you focus on the precise movements of your hands. There's far too many stressful things you still need to mull over, and now isn't the time. 

Wrapping his bandages is a careful, but quick process; at this point, you're used to it. Aki keeps as motionless as he can manage while you tie the bandages off to keep them in place. You collect the wooden bowl in one hand, before promptly rising to your feet. He watches you snatch his spare tunic from where it hangs over the edge of his cot. He catches it once you toss it at him. 

"I'm going to make dinner," You remark, "Stew probably, same as last time." Already, you're turning on your heels, heading into the kitchen. You set the wooden bowl aside, and Aki scrambles to pull his shirt over his head. 

"Wait-"

He's rushing to come stand beside you, still straightening his tunic and fitting his arms through the sleeves, while you're plopping your backpack onto the counter. Aki reaches back, fixing his hair and pulling it from beneath his neckline. Busy focusing on opening your backpack, you give him a raised brow, a perplexed side-glance. 

"Let's make it together," Aki says — and with how ridiculous his preposition sounds, with how unheard of it is to you, you can't help but laugh. 

"That isn't necessary." You shrug, and turn back to your bag. You root around inside for a moment, before you find a small leather pouch, containing several bonnet-shaped mushrooms. 

"I know," Aki replies; he's already reaching into your cupboards, wasting no time finding a couple of bowls and a cutting board. His mind has been made, apparently. "I want to make it with you, though. Can you teach me?" 

Your eyes narrow. Your hands are shuddery as you pull the pouch open, briefly counting the mushrooms inside. Inevitably, you breathe a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping from the weight of it. Aki sets the cutting board down, his gaze flickering over you, and you dump the mushrooms out onto the counter in front of him. 

"Chop these up into small pieces. Knives are in the drawer to your right." 

He doesn't need to be told twice. 

Silence falls upon the kitchen as you and Aki prepare dinner together, side by side. His knife — your knife — echoes rhythmically against the wooden cutting board as he carefully chops mushroom after mushroom. You grind herbs to use for seasoning with a mortar and pestle. The fireplace crackles, and your foot taps against the floor just slightly. Too slight for him to hear, and not enough to calm your nerves. 

Any slight lull makes you think too much. About devils, about the kingdom. About him, and what you're going to do once he's gone. At the very least, this silence is much more comfortable, compared to the prickling stillness that befell the both of you on the way back to your cottage. You're grateful you haven't yet ruined things. 

Since then, you've barely managed to regain the faintest sliver of your composure. Your heart isn't pounding anymore, thankfully, despite how close the two of you need to stand to work together in the kitchen. You designed your space for one, not for two. The stove is in the middle of the counter, and in order to reach to dump ingredients into a pot, you need to lean so close to him your arms nearly touch. 

Instead, your heart aches, twisting and pulling at your chest, sending blood rushing to your fragile hands and making them shake each time you remember the way Aki touched you. He grabbed your right hand. It still feels warm, in a way. Haunted by a touch softer than a flower's thin petals. Your mind swims, your grip on the pestle faltering slightly. 

Gods, you're ridiculous. A more composed version of yourself would surely be scolding you right now. 

First, you let a man you hardly know into your cottage, a man who happened to be royalty, of all things. Then, you panic over nothing, getting all freaked out over a harmless baby elk. Now, you're allowing yourself to nearly lose your damned mind over such a small, inconsequential, useless touch. Over Aki's touch. 

Aki, who's life exists in a universe far removed from your own. Who is going to leave, who has a few days left before he will have to forget about you. You really, seriously need to get a grip. 

"I'm sorry," You mutter, breaking the silence, your voice barely loud enough to be heard. Aki stops though, glancing in your direction, making it clear that he did notice. "Normally I wouldn't get scared like that. You know, when we were in the forest. I just- I'm stressed, that's all. Or tense, I guess. And exhausted." 

"I knew you were still thinking about what happened earlier," Aki concludes, reading you correctly. He scoops a handful of chopped mushrooms into his palms, and places them into the already-boiling pot on the stove. "There's no need to apologize. I must have startled you. I was… scared too, for a moment." 

Aki's knife swiftly hits the cutting board as he cuts the rest of the mushrooms, and you prop your head on your palm, your fingers drumming against the counter. 

He's only partially paying attention to the task at hand. His eyes continuously and not-so-subtly keep drifting away from the cutting board, and back to you. You really wish he wouldn't. Your heart is already beginning to skip again; you don't need it running and tripping over itself while you're trying to thinly cut up some parsley. 

"You're going to chop your finger off." 

Aki stops at your words. Your gaze is focused on your bundle of parsley and scissors, but he still looks towards you anyways, breathing a slight, playful laugh. He elegantly twirls his knife in a circle before returning it to the cutting board — only this time, he makes sure to watch what he's doing. 

"I cooked for my family a few times when I was a kid," He starts, chopping a mushroom carefully and slowly. "That was ages ago, though. I think I forgot everything I once learned." 

You still remember your mother's cooking lessons like she taught them to you yesterday. Keep your knives sharp. Watch the stove, try not to use too much firewood. You can add, but you can never subtract. Were those moments the last time you shared the kitchen with someone else? 

It's a bit difficult to get used to. You keep expecting to have more work, you still feel surprised when you turn to see someone standing next to you. But it feels calming. A crisp, fluttering feeling you can't quite put your finger on — not that you want to, you'd rather not face it. You've decided it's nice to make dinner with him, simply sharing your space, even though you aren't doing anything too special. For the first time in what might be forever, you aren't alone. 

Perhaps you should be savoring this. 

"I did too," You reply, pausing the movement of your scissors for a moment. "But when I was a kid, I hated cooking. I cut my hand once, the first time I tried to peel potatoes. My mom bandaged me up. From there on out, I would cry every time she asked me to cook with her." 

Aki breathes a slight hmm, and he reasons, "You were scared of getting hurt again." 

"I suppose so." 

"Did you ever end up cooking with her?" 

"No. I remember some of what she tried to teach me, but… I mostly taught myself," You answer, briefly hesitating. "This is the first time I've tried to cook with someone else since then, I think. I like it. I like your company." 

Too honest, perhaps. Your mother might have told you to keep on your toes in this situation, to avoid giving away too much information. But your heart is already beating fast, and the words have already left you before you've thought about them. 

Aki glances at you, your gaze staying focused on your hands, on your work. You seem lost in thought. He finds it difficult to read the blank expression on your face. 

"I understand. I think I get how you feel, honestly." His voice is smooth, calm. Drifting through you, until it sparks within your chest like a brand new star. "My mother never got the chance to teach me much. She was busy working, or busy tending to my younger brother." 

"Your mom," You answer quietly, "Do you miss her?" 

"Yeah. And you?" 

Your jaw tenses, your teeth uncomfortably grinding together. You place the parsley into the pot, and dust your palms over the counter. "Of course. You always miss the family you've lost." 

He's long since finished chopping up the remainder of mushrooms, but Aki's grip tightens on the knife, and he idly taps the tip of the blade against the firm cutting board. He hums a slight mhmm in agreement. 

"My mother always said cooking was one of the most important skills one could learn," Aki continues. "I thought she'd have more time to teach me. She would tell me, 'You need to be prepared if you go off on your own, you won't always like what other people make for you.' Something like that. I'm not sure I believed her, at first." 

"Uh-huh," You raise a brow. "And then you were forced to eat river snails." 

Oh. Realizing your change in tone only after the fact, you look at him immediately, your nerves prickling, your skin heating up with embarrassment. Truthfully, you haven't had much practice with conversations; Aki is the first. You've said more to him in the past few days than you think you ever have. 

Perhaps you should've thought more before you spoke. It's one thing to say something you might regret, it's another to raise tensions with him. He was serious, and you just made some stupid joke that sounded flat enough to be a rude comment — 

But Aki smirks, he laughs wholeheartedly; the sound rings through you, tender and burning. You feel a reassuring wave travel all the way down your spine. 

"Okay, I think I would've had to try those regardless," He hums, exhaling another amused huff of breath. He drops the rest of the mushrooms into the stove pot, and with nothing else to do but wait for the stew to be ready, he swiftly reaches for a rag, and begins wiping down the cutting board. 

"They were supposed to make you heal faster, or not get sick- or something, I'm not sure," He continues, "They never actually did anything. Trust me, if I was cooking for myself, I wouldn't have opted to include those." 

"At least you tried them," You reply, shrugging. "Now you've got a good story to tell. Besides, there's plenty of things that might look awful even though they taste pretty good." 

"Truffles," Aki says through a groan, "Gods, how I refused to eat those. It drove my parents up a wall." 

"What's that?" 

Propping your head up with your arm once more, you glance at him, diligently looking at him up and down, giving him all of your attention. Aki smiles, and he sets down what he's holding to turn towards you fully. Matching your gaze, he rests his elbow on the edge of the counter. 

"They're these shitty little black mushrooms," He says straightforwardly, and you can't help but chuckle. "Apparently, they're hard to find, so… my parents would be furious with me for wasting them. My dad, he was the one who taught us to be frugal. He made me try this chocolate. Super fancy, expensive chocolate. It was similar to the mushrooms, and my dad decided to tell me they were the same. He said, 'You know those are truffles, the mushrooms you hate, right?'"

Aki lets go of a small, breathy laugh, and he glances away as he recalls the rest of his story. "It wasn't. They're only called the same thing, but they're completely different- the chocolate, and the mushrooms. He got me to try some the next time we had them, though." 

"Hm," You reply, "Did you like them?"

"Nope. I didn't finish my first bite, I spat it out." 

Smirking, your gaze meets his own expectantly. "Your dad was probably mad, then." 

"Definitely. But I was expecting chocolate. Those mushrooms are good, but you're supposed to savor them. They are the complete opposite of sweet." 

"What's chocolate?" Your eyes squint as you think, trying to remember if the name is something you've heard before. In a book, maybe. It certainly sounds familiar. "Is that a mushroom too?" 

Aki stares at you, surprised. "You've never had chocolate?" 

"Nope." 

"It's- damn." His hand comes to hold his chin, his brows pinch with faint frustration. "It's sort of difficult to describe. It's sweet. It melts in your mouth, if that makes sense. There's a lot of vendors who sell chocolate in the kingdom. When we get there, I'll buy you some." 

Suddenly, as he seems to catch himself, Aki clears his throat. He stutters and glances away, "Er- if you wanted to go with me, that is. There's no need to make any decisions right now. It was just a suggestion." 

The room grows silent. Aki's gaze flickers to check on the stove, before traveling back to you. To your eyes, to your mouth. When your gazes meet again, you find it impossible to look away, despite how much your quivering heart desperately begs you to. 

Finally, you look down at your hands, and mumble hesitantly, "You'll be leaving soon." You press your thumbs together, nervously fiddling. "Right?" 

"That depends," Aki answers, "When do you think I'll be healed enough?" 

"Soon. Probably within the next few days, at the earliest. Your wound looks fine. You should keep resting, once you're feeling energized and no longer sore, then…" 

You trail off, unable to finish your sentence. Aki doesn't fail to notice how you're no longer looking at him, your voice becoming uncertain and much quieter. 

Aki takes a deep, long breath, and he speaks calmly, gently. "Whenever you tell me you're ready, I'll leave. There's no pressure to come with me, and I won't force you to make a decision. I don't have any problems with leaving alone. I'll be alright, you won't have to worry about me. Please, don't forget that." 

It should be fine, to let him leave alone. You'll follow your original plan. The next time he's asleep, you'll prepare the potion to alter his memory; you could have it done by tonight, easily. If he follows your directions, he shouldn't have a problem with making his way out of the forest safely. As foolish as he is, Aki is resourceful. He wouldn't let himself get caught out again. This is what should happen, to keep the both of you safe, and apart. 

So why do you feel so hurt? 

For longer than necessary, you're silent. In the corner of your vision, you catch the way Aki peers at you worriedly. 

"Are you alright?" He asks, his words taking you a bit off guard. 

Reflexively, you nod — but oh, how he is making this so much harder. You're fine, you were fine, until you heard his soft voice check up on you. Now, you feel like a dam on the edge of bursting. He noticed, of course he would notice. You're standing close enough for him to see your little tremors, for him to hear when your breath starts to hitch. You had made up your mind about your future long before you met him, but Aki had to go and change it all. 

Perhaps you hadn't realized how much it truly hurt until he'd spoken. Those are words you haven't heard before, you've never felt a sensation so suffocating. Your throat is dry, your heart is encased in thorns — but you're alright. You have to be. You have to tell him you're fine. 

"I'm alright," You answer quickly with a swallow, leaving it at that. 

"You sure? Your hands-" Aki murmurs, his gaze flickering down to them, and then back up. "You were doing that earlier." 

Ah. You were, and you are. Both of your hands have moved to timidly clutch the front of your cape, your thumb running over the grooves on the shiny front button. 

Sighing, you forcibly let your arms fall. You still can't look at him, so instead, you keep your focus on the dirty ends of your shoes. "I promise, I'm fine." 

You're sure you don't sound very convincing. 

The pot on the stove bubbles, the stove top's low, orange flame flickering faintly. Aki stays silent, considering his next words carefully. 

"You still don't trust me," He decides, his voice quiet and assured. It's a statement more than anything; he knows you do not trust him. He knows it's a fact he cannot change. "But if there's anything- something I did, or something you want to tell me, you can. I'll listen." 

As if you could ever tell him. 

It'd be foolish to let him see this different side to you, regardless of how much you already trust him — more than he realizes, clearly. More than logic and everything you've learned should dictate. Unfortunately, you can no longer keep your thoughts quiet. You've got a battle raging within you, and those aching waves of stress are pulling, pushing, and growing closer and closer to drowning you underneath. 

Aki can't stay. You shouldn't even entertain the thought; what the hell are you thinking? Aki is a stranger, he's dangerous. If he truly is royalty, you could be punished for ever thinking you were allowed to look at him, let alone speak to him. 

The kingdom isn't as far as you'd prefer it to be. His wound is healing. You are helping him get back on his feet. You're guiding him closer to leaving, little by little. 

Deep in your foolish, pounding heart, you want to believe Aki would trust you as much as you want to trust him, regardless of your best-kept secret. Yet, if anyone questioned him upon his return, if he was at all seen as suspicious, they could find out about you. His intentions wouldn't matter then. Protecting you or even himself wouldn't be an option. There's only so much he can do to bend the rules around witches. Royalty or otherwise. 

You hate this. You hate that Aki could discover the truth at any moment. He could look at you differently, with less kindness and more revulsion, once he realizes he's supposed to hate you. He is fucking supposed to, to hell with thinking mages are people, those words can't be trusted, he isn't meant to be trusted. With how distracted you've been, he could kill you, if he truly wanted to. But would he? 

The pit of your stomach swirls with a shadowy sense of dread and anxiety. You hate how you've become closer to him, you hate yourself for letting your guard down, even though you swore you wouldn't. Above all else, you hate how these sharp, never-ending feelings are becoming far too much. 

It hurts. There's a hundred thoughts gnawing at your mind, a thousand rapid beats of your heart to keep track of, and a million pins and needles under your skin, running up along your spine with a painful, oppressive intensity. 

You're worried. You're scared, scared of what will happen, scared of him, and everything. Scared of losing him, as awful as it sounds. Your cottage would become so lonely. You would fall into suffocating silence once more. Aki is different from the men you met before, from the people you've learned to fear. He is someone worth keeping. 

Each sensation — the stress, the longing — pushes at either side of you like two stone walls closing in. Closing and crushing and swallowing you; your hands are trembling, and Gods, you're exhausted. When was the last time you slept properly? Was your mind ever working as it should be to begin with? 

And why can you never seem to stop thinking about what it felt like to have your hand in his? 

In the end, it doesn't matter. 

None of it matters, your attempts to hang onto yourself and your wavering composure are rendered useless. He blends out of your focus as the world grows blurry around you. You grip the front of your cape tighter, your shoulders tensing before they tremor. Your breath is short, your throat feels tight, and your thoughts are fatigued like a string pulled taut. Fragile tears are beginning to fall down your cheeks, and you can do nothing to stop them. 

Aki freezes up completely, eyes wide, gaze locked on you. 

"Sorry," You're babbling, shaking your head, willing the tears to stop — although you know they most certainly won't. Your chest aches, your throat hurts. Small droplets fall from your face to hit your fingers and knuckles. You're so stupid, so weak. "I just- I don't want to-" 

Without an ounce of hesitation, Aki shifts closer. He's slow when he reaches out to you, giving you plenty of time to move away if you'd prefer to. You don't. Glancing down at you, his warm palm finds your cheek, his touch slight and delicate, as though he's still expecting you to flinch away. Carefully, his thumb swipes underneath your eye to catch a tear before it falls. His touch caresses you softly, far too softly. And finally, you break. 

He could hurt you, he could destroy you if he knew what you truly were. Instead, the fear all melts away, because he chooses to be gentle. 

Your shaking hands hold onto your cape as tight as you can manage, while your tears turn into hard sobs that shake your entire figure, and make his heart want to splinter and shatter. Aki mumbles something low under his breath, words you barely catch despite how close you both are: an earnest mixture of shh, and it's okay. 

In this moment, you have never been weaker. Not since the day you first left the kingdom behind you, and began to cry, when you believed you were meant to be alone. It's been years of isolation, since then. Is it so wrong for you to know you have needed this? 

For once, leaning into his touch feels right; it doesn't burn, it isn't nerve-wracking. It's everything you've ever needed — it is so much more as you press your hand to the back of his, keeping him in place so he won't pull away. You focus on the warmth of his touch, tenderness surging all around you, your heart pounding to a fierce, unsteady rhythm. 

It could be wrong, it could be reckless, to believe this is the safest you've ever felt. To know that if you were to pull him close like you've been wanting, you might not be able to let go. You want to embrace him, to have someone hold you, after ages and ages of feeling nothing against your skin and at your back but the whispering wind. 

Aki's arms around you would be far too overwhelming — to have him hold you tight while you breathe in the scent of firewood on his clothes, and listen to each beat of his heart, your head pressed to his chest. No, you wouldn't let go, not until you've memorized the sound. The thought alone could bring you to tears, if you weren't already breaking down in front of him, sniffling and holding onto your cape with a grip tight enough to make your fingers ache. 

"I scared you earlier, didn't I?" Aki says, his voice low, as calming as it always is. His breathing is slow, and yours tries to calm down to match. "I'm sorry." 

Maybe he did, but you've already forgiven him. Aki can't know the true reason why you're crying, or any of the multitude of built-up reasons. They'd be impossible to say, far too difficult to talk about. You can't tell him you might miss him if he leaves you behind, even though it's what you planned to let happen in the first place. Even though someone like you has no right to want to follow someone like him. To the kingdom, no less. You'd be shunned. Imprisoned. Or much, much worse. 

Aki is kind and thoughtful, his presence alone makes you want more — your tides pulled in his direction, an ocean of uncertainty reaching up to a bright, brilliant, unreachable moon. His touch is warm light, shining through thick darkness. Your darkness, illuminated wholeheartedly. 

"You're safe," He murmurs. His voice barely registers. "I wouldn't let anything hurt you." 

He couldn't, he has no idea you're a terrible, filthy liar. Aki is a good man. He reminds you of those knights in your stories — unwaveringly good, no matter the danger they're presented with. And you? You are nothing more than a witch. 

Thankfully, Aki doesn't need to know. 

He doesn't have questions, he simply continues to brush his thumb over your cheek, tenderly and rhythmically. His touch is slight, overly gentle in an attempt to keep you comfortable, but it's more than enough to gradually help you relax. You can't recall the last time you cried like this. Nor the last time you let anyone touch you, you never planned to allow this. You can't become overtaken by emotion, holding your focus is much more important. Perhaps you needed a way to finally let go of your budding stress. 

Aki seems to think so. He holds your face in his palm as you cry, never pulling away, grounding you with his presence. Ever-so patient, he stays, while you fully succumb to everything washing over you. Until the waves slowly subside, allowing you to breathe again. Your sobs begin to calm, your tears start to dry up. Your whole body tremors as you breathe a long, shaky sigh. 

Still, he keeps his pretty palm on your cheek. It belongs there, you think. 

"How are you feeling?" Aki says softly, after a few beats of silence. "Mad? Upset?" 

At first, you don't answer. You try, although you know it's futile; your mouth opens, but your voice is weak, your throat is sore. No words come out. You're feeling a thousand things, even if you could voice them, you aren't sure where you'd start. You swallow, and to your disappointment, Aki takes his palm away from your cheek, abruptly reaching for something. 

In a rush, he hurries to turn off the stove, swearing quietly under his breath. You hadn't realized how much time had passed — how long have you been crying? Long enough to make your nose stuffed and your throat sore, and enough to let the stew boil over, evidently. 

Aki leaves it, for now. He reaches over you to grab your backpack, briefly putting your bodies unbelievably close. He roots around inside until he finds your flask, still half-full with fresh water, and he sets it on the counter, allowing you to move at your own pace. You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand first, before you grab it, unscrewing the cap, taking a few sips. 

You want to tell him. You want to feel his soft touch again, you want his words of reassurance, and his trust, and his kindness. How could you fear him, when Aki is tenderness incarnate? As soft as the sky, as earnest as an echo. And as necessary as it is, you're already sick of lying; you don't want to hear his voice, look him in the eyes, and know you are lying to him. 

Though, you can't say a thing. Your voice is weak, your body and mind are exhausted. And so, this time, you resist. 

Aki breaks the silence first. "You're allowed to be mad at me. I wouldn't blame you if you were." 

"I'm not mad," You answer, screwing the cap back on the flask, setting it down on the counter right where it was. You aren't meeting his eyes, but your voice sounds clearer, less strained. "I'm okay. Just tired." 

Your shoulders shrug weakly. Aki's next breath seems to shake, his arms crossing around his chest frustratedly, his gaze traveling down. 

"I shouldn't-" His jaw clenches, before he lets go of an exasperated sigh. "A devil wouldn't have snuck up on us like that. We would've known- they aren't small, and they make much more noise when they're approaching. I shouldn't have worried you. If you think I should… head for the kingdom, I will. I could leave tonight." 

Your throat feels dry again. "It's fine." 

"No," Aki counters, his voice wavering; it never wavers, "This is my fault. To see you hurting so much, when I know that I- maybe I just-" 

"Aki." 

You glance up at him, and your abrupt utterance of his name forces him to meet your gaze. Your eyes are still red, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion, your cheeks damp from tears. Your expression is earnest, hiding a thousand emotions he couldn't begin to make sense of. But he wants to try. 

"Don't go," You murmur, softer this time. Close to breaking once more. "I've already forgiven you. Thank you. For being here." 

For showing you a kindness you aren't used to, for comforting you without asking questions. For finally making you realize that you aren't meant to be alone. You want to say his name a thousand times more. 

Honestly, you aren't sure what Aki takes away from your words. He seems to hesitate, but after a moment of thought, he reaches for the bowls he'd grabbed for the two of you earlier. One for you, and one for him. 

"You should get some sleep after we eat," He suggests, his tone nice and gentle, laced with concern. He places your bowl in front of you, on your side of the counter. 

"Mhmm…" You nod in agreement, and search through a drawer on your left to find a wooden ladle. "My head hurts." 

Completely serious, Aki replies, "Do you want me to stop talking?" 

Genuine and soft, you break into a laugh — a sound he is more than glad to hear — and you smile to yourself, while you pour some stew into your bowl. It warms your palms, steam brushing against your face. When you pass the ladle to him, he's instantly caught on the faint sparkle in your gaze. Hook, line, and sinker. 

"Absolutely not." You hum playfully, an eyebrow crooked. "It would be far too quiet. Besides, I like your voice." 

Aki fills his own bowl, and with the warm, pleased look that encompasses his features, you swear he almost seems flustered. "I hope you aren't implying I talk too much." 

"Nope. If anything, it's not enough." 

You reach into a drawer to grab silverware, and Aki heads over to the dinner table. He's already sat down across from your usual seat, and once you're able to follow, you notice your chair has been pulled out for you. 

Your conversations lull as the two of you eat together, once again enjoying the simple comfort of company. The warm stew soothes your throat. It has your body and your limbs relaxing, calming. You exchange a few words. Aki compliments your cooking, and you politely thank him for his help. You comment how you rarely see baby elk, they're normally so skittish. It was cute. It would be nice to see again, under different circumstances. 

Everything returns to normality. The same way it always was, when words shared between him and yourself become as natural as breathing. Once again, it feels right. 

The next time you speak, it's after you've stood and both rinsed your bowls, just before you're about to head into your bedroom. 

Aki clears his throat. He sits on the edge of his cot, his hands placed uniformly in his lap, the fireplace's low flame flickering over the sharp angles of his face. 

"Do you really want me to stay?" He asks, as he already has. Perhaps he's expecting the answer to change. 

You consider, drumming your fingertips over your bedroom's door handle. Then, at last, you answer. "Is it so wrong if I do?" 

"It isn't. I was thinking, actually, I… I don't think it's a good idea for me to leave," He says, glancing at you. "My wound is- it could reopen. It'd be better not to take any risks, to rest for another week or so. Or maybe two weeks. Or- I don't know. We'll see." His next words are entirely unsure, a shot in the dark, a question and a plea wrapped into one: "What do you think?" 

As one would expect, he'd leave it all up to you. 

Your hand grips the door knob tighter. You take a slow, gradual breath, and hope he doesn't notice your newfound reassurance. 

He isn't leaving. Not yet. Thank the Gods. 

"Of course," You murmur, without turning to look at him. He'd see the small smile on your face if you did. "You can stay." 

[lit3rallyll0yd]

Can I request a scenario where dazai and fem reader are hanging out together and suddenly some guy that went out with her once on a bad date sees them and assumes they’re together and is really sad about it and asking for another chance. Like lowkey embarrassing. And dazai is a bit jealous because “why didn’t she tell me she’s been going on dates?”

I just want a little funny Chaos with crushing!dazai.

when dazai has a crush on you - dazai x fem reader

synopsis: on which the osamu dazai had a massive crush on you; however he has no idea how to go about it and suddenly has an awkward interaction with your ex, who begs for you to get back with him.

a/n: when life gives you motivation, you use it all in one one-shot and never return!!

"what's your favorite ice cream flavor?" he asked you as the two of you were walking down the streets of yokohama. winter was finally here and snow covered what used to be green grass and the clouds were in the shades of grey and white.

"dazai, it's freezing!"

"ah, but that doesn't mean we can't have a special treat!" he grinned, quirking an eyebrow as he waited for a response out of you.

you rolled your eyes with a smile; "if you just have to know!!" you said dramatically, a hand to your chest, "it's pistachio..."

"you basic-"

"HUSH!" you clamped his mouth with your hand, laughing to yourself as he looked at you with a "GIRL WTF-"

"i don't care if calls me a basic bitch, THERE GOOD!!" he held his arms up in defense, "your words not mine!"

you slapped his arm once more as you both kept walking.

"are you going to pay?"

"didn't i tell you? i lost my wallet in the river, it belongs to the frogs now."

"osamu- that was 2 YEARS AGO!!"

"and those frogs MUST have a mansion by now!"

"oh my go-"

"but you, my sweet y/n, you must have some spare change to by your best friend in the whole wide world to get some ice cream for us??????"

he blinked at you with his fingers interlocked with each other and you sighed, shoving his face away from his own.

"i literally hate you..."

"you looooooove me~"

what he said may have been true; we'll, he hoped?

-

"have you ever wondered if atsushi purrs?"

you looked up at dazai; raising an eyebrow as you took a bite of your ice cream. "where does your mind go after work hours?" you shook your head as you chuckled; "wait, I'm serious. like if you scratch behind his ear, does he meow?"

as dazai went on and on about god knows what; you saw a familiar boy stand next to the store of the small ice cream shop...he seemed to be with other boys, around your age, and he was just kinda glancing over at you.

where do you recognize him from?

"are you okay?" dazais voice caused you to look at him quickly, "hm?"

dazai grinned, "something on your mind? is it my, witty charms? my gorgeous vocal cords, or perhaps-"

you shake your head chuckling at just how stupid your best friend is, "no- no, sorry. i just zoned out!"

he nods, not wanting to push further and once again started to talk about random things that popped into his mind.

after a bit, you notice the boy was gone however his friends were still there; you even recognized some of those boys as well. why does it look a little bit like-

"jeezus-"

"what was that?"

"i said "shoeless!"

"Y/N!!!!"

the sudden scream of your name from another man's voice besides dazais caused you both to jump.

you looked to your right, as dazai followed your stare...a boy who rushed over to you with blonde locks and baby blue eyes. he seemed to be in some sort of distress as he got on his knees.

"cody, what are you-"

"i'm so sorry i left you, baby, i was a fool to think i could find someone better!"

dazai was beyond confused as he said nothing but just watch. you glared at the boy who was on his knees; "cody, you cheated on me, and suddenly on your knees begging for me back?"

he nods, grabbing your hands as he looked you in the eye; "you were my everything, and i was stupid to believe i never needed you. I've been a mess without, i've let my hair grow up, i haven't shaved in 8 months, and i'm all alone!!"

"uhm..."

both you and your ex boyfriend looked at dazai who cleared his throat.

"y/n, what ...what is going on?"

before you could respond, cody shouts out; "YOU MOVED ON WITH HIM? what does he have that i don't? oh, OH, your into bandages?"

dazai gave him a "bitch what the fuck" look as he continued; "i can be better then anything he can be to you! i bet he doesn't even know what your favorite ice cream flavor is and got you one you didn't like!!"

"cody, i'm not dating anyone!!!" you blushed furiously, pulling your hand away.

both cody and dazai'a cheeks flushed, however dazai couldn't stop looking at you. 'you can date me' he thought to himself, but was knocked out of his trance as you dragged him away by the arm and said one final goodbye to cody, "your pathetic, cody! leaving me for a bastard who cheated on your ass as well because your a sad, cheating man who has nothing to live for besides eat and sleep all day long! at dazai has a job. you know, your right, he'll be a better boyfriend then you anyday!!"

and with that tou left the weeping man alone with his friends awkwardly standing there, giggling at the incounter that has happened.

as you and dazai got further away, you stopped and sighed. "i'm sorry dazai, that was so awkward! i never thought i'd see him again!" you rubbed your face and looked at the floor, but dazai chuckled and made you look at him.

"it's quite alright, y/n, but...when did you two break up? not that it's any of my buisness, but i had no idea you were even dating!?"

"you seem surprise, you believe a women like me can't pull a lover?"

he froze, "oh-n-no! not at all, i just- you know i just- well you never told-"

you rolled your eyes and punched his arm; "dude i'm kidding!!"

he chuckled, a couple minutes later the two of you decided to walk back home, however he offered to walk you home.

as the lights in yokohama lit up, the moon as set and the streets were quiet.

there was a calm silence as you both walked, the sound of dazais clicking heels caused you to always side eye him and smile. he's never walked you home like this before, he was always so talkative and have something to say.

"did you mean what you said, earlier today?"

ah.

there it was.

"you mean.."

"yeah.."

you smiled to yourself, looking at the floor as you stopped in front of your apartment. "of course i did, i'm sure you would try your hardest to be with the person you love, better then cody!!" you smiled, giving him a hug and waving goodbye.

"bye, dazai! see you at work tomorrow, I better not have to call you again so you won't be late!!" you waved, walking into your apartment.

"goodbye, y/n!" he waved, watching as you entered your apartment and your figure left.

"i love you..."

@justcallmesakira @atsquie @atlasnessie @riiwrites @ruanais @silverbladexyz @pinklacydovey @iisowks @haithamvoid-deactivated20240128

[misteria247]

1981 Journal Entry #2:

I've lost track of how long I've been plagued by the nightmare. All I know is that I get very little sleep, and it's starting to take its toll. I've been trying to research what I can about that Mystery Caller who had started this whole thing. There's very little I've been able to find. I'd gone through countless documents and books and everything that Gravity Falls has to offer. Yet it alludes me, the answer to this nightmarish game. I'm starting to turn to the more docile anomalies to try and find answers. And what I've been getting has been.......unsettling.

For example, the other day when me, Lee and F were on a field expedition. The Leprecorns (which I personally do not like) were talking to F and Lee. Seemingly enjoying their presence and conversation, while I took notes and drew rough sketches in my journal. When one of them approached me. He was an older Leprecorn, with a slightly weathered face and eyes that held the sheen of an older man. He was staring at me, not saying a word, to the point where it made me squirm from it. It felt like he was staring straight through me like the eyes that lurked in the shadows in my nightmare.

After what felt like eons he finally spoke.

"......You've been marked laddie."

I don't think I'd ever felt my stomach drop so fast at a simple sentence, that by all accounts had nothing to do with me. I glanced up to make sure that Lee and F were still distracted before I responded to him in a low tone.

"What do you mean by that? I don't-"

The Leprecorn interrupted me at that moment, his tone firm and damning.

"Ey, I recognize the look son. You haven't been sleeping have ya? It's because yer marked. By something foul, something dark. I've seen it before. Others who've been marked by the beast."

I couldn't breathe, because I knew somehow deep in my very bones that he was talking about that anomaly who had called into the station. The anomaly who had been haunting my dreams.

"The beast....? Who is this creature? What does it want with me?"

I'd inquired, perhaps a bit desperately, wanting to know what I was up against. Instead I was met with a grim, somber expression. Like.....like he was staring at a dead man.

"I don't know much myself lad. No one really knows about the beast. But......we do know that those who are marked do not meet a good end. Just.......be careful boy. He watches."

And then he'd left, seemingly done with the conversation. Leaving me shaken beyond belief. It took everything I had to not show it when F and Lee were finally done with their conversation and we'd packed up to head home. I don't think I was successful though, because my brother stuck to my side for the rest of the evening. As if he sensed that I wasn't okay at all. I don't know what being marked means, nor do I want to. I just want this to end, before someone else is dragged into this eldritch horror.

I'm going to try and get some sleep tonight. I can't let whatever this thing is win. I'd rather die than let him stand victorious over me. I'm going to do research on how to stop the calls as well. One encounter was enough.

Signing off

Stanford Pines

1981 Journal Entry #2 continued time 3AM:

I can't stop shaking.

I can't stop, my hands they're trembling from the nightmare. It was different, after so long with the same thing it changed.

The voices from the shadows they spoke to me. They said my name, surrounded by the static of that anomaly. His tone sounded cheerful but somehow I know that it was a rouse. He wasn't cheerful at all.

He was angry.

Like a lion in a cage, he had his fangs bared towards me. He....he'd said that if I keep digging, if I don't play his game........I was going to regret it.

I don't know what he means by that. But I can take whatever he throws at me, I'm not weak. I can handle any blows he's got for me. And yet.....

Why can I not shake the feeling that something awful is on the horizon?

Signing off

Stanford Pines

[postsforposting]

JESUS CHRIST IT'S THE PEANUT GALLERY

Heroes have a rogues gallery

But Wade sees the fourth wall, so he has a PEANUT GALLERY

We don't talk to him so he went and found himself one who talks back

We the gallery are who the universe revolves around because without us Wade's world ends. We're the anchor beings! Logan came from the peanut gallery, HE'S US.

He's god, the author of his universe.

The Worst god, because he didn't help his world, wouldn't tell anyone he cared, and a lot of kids didn't get to grow up because of his revenge spree for an attack on those he claimed were his people. His, but not enough that he'd help them, not enough he'd talk to them, not enough to stop him from doing the same thing that was done to him.

God absolutely deserves to be thrown out. He's a failure who ruined his own world.

But just like all of us, he could choose to change. To recognize he did wrong. It's the least he could do. Because it's necessary in order to change.

God wouldn't and then couldn't save his own world, because it was better off without him after what he did.

It was a hell of his own making.

But he's us. That hell is our world.

We're Wade looking for help in all the wrong places. Waiting for Jesus to fix it for us when it's up to us.

Are you there, god? It's me, Margaret. Papa can you hear me?--

--Conversations with people who aren't there. Him to us. Like a prayer.

Prayers go unanswered. We can't talk to him. We set the narrative and we won't save him.

He replies: Bye bye bye, I'm gonna do it myself, and if any version of you actually loved me like you say then you would be here with me. You wouldn't have done it in the first place.

Wade only has one world, and even if he doesn't matter to it he's still going to save it. Who matters when they just watch? When they're not there? When the Omega herself created the problem? That's the stuff of legend, but not in a good way. Some things are just beyond forgiveness until the next life.

But this world--our world--doesn't regenerate.

Who still thinks this movie was just a silly little fan service sex joke?

I mean, it IS... gay sex saved the world. Logan's abstinence let his world down. It would have destroyed Wade's too.

....

We're the peanut gallery that the world revolves around. Abstinence would destroy ours, too. Only by giving a fuck can we save each other. It takes someone who's hung with big balls to build a snowman that feels like home.

To see god in each other. To gain forever by fucking god, together. To finally find a god who'll answer your prayers.

Hey Ryan, are you there? i just wanna TALK--

[zombie-bait]

Omg i just realized I have something tiny to add to the whole James Somerton debacle. I'm currently watching the hbombguy vid (as you do when procrastinating assignments) and I remembered something that stood out to me in James' old videos.

So I used to be a fan of his stuff. I am also a fan of Hannibal and IWTV. He made a video covering both so naturally I was very hyped. It was called 'The Gay Appeal of Toxic Love.' The vid itself was fine (I don't remember having any super strong opinions of it besides being excited to hear ppl mention Interview cuz I had recently become obsessed) but one thing did stand out to me. In the IWTV section he mentions Nicki and, naturally, his death:

"After becoming a vampire, Nicky becomes nearly catatonic, and eventually slips away from Lestat entirely. And after centuries of dealing with depression and severe mental illness, Nicky kills himself."

(sourced from this transcript: https://github.com/TerraJRiley/James_Somerton_Transcripts/blob/main/Transcripts/The%20Gay%20Appeal%20of%20Toxic%20Love.txt)

To anyone who's read TVL, I don't think I need to explain that Nicki had not, in fact, been around for centuries. "Nicki had lived to be 30" has been rattling around in my head since I first read it.

And like, obviously I don't expect every youtube essayist to read several long-ish novels to have a full grasp of the series' deep lore, especially when the focus was largely on IWTV and Loustat rather than the entire Vampire Chronicles. Still, it makes you wonder a bit about the quality of the research being done here. You can find the proper info in like, 5 seconds by just going on the fan wiki so I'm not sure what his sources were. And that's the issue at hand, isn't it?

At the time I felt a tiny bit smug recognizing the error but in light of everything that's been revealed, it's kind of telling. I'm not saying this part was plagiarized (I haven't found anything but others on reddit have found issues with different sections of the same video) but rereading the transcript it comes off as someone who clearly doesn't know much about Interview.... It feels like he's reading through a loose summary of plot points rather than analyzing a piece of media that actually means anything to him. It's very much Interview for people who don't know Interview which, one could argue is fair. Especially beyond book one, VC is a niche series and a lot of elements that are important to certain characters or plot lines cannot be summarized quickly for an audience unfamiliar with it. A good writer, who's done a lot of research about the specific topic they have chosen to make a video on, would be able to balance this. There is a LOT to analyze about queerness in VC and its a shame to see one of the more popular queer media channels half-assing it just to churn out videos heavily made up of other people's work. In retrospect he had several videos like that, where he would discuss things like manga/manhua communities while clearly having little knowledge on the nuance of those subjects. He was an outsider who presented himself with a strange amount of authority.

This was content created with the sole intention of propping up queer stories and history, yet it's built off stolen work from queer authors and doesn't actually care that much about exploring the communities it features. Vids like the IWTV one weren't really fact checked because it's only people like me who would might give a shit or even notice anything is off in the first place. There's a bit of a similar vibe in some of his other vids where he undermines the experiences of queer women because he clearly has not taken the time to learn about the nuances of representing queer women in media. These are things that irritated me when I first started to notice them but I put those concerns in the back of my mind because I cared about the topics he was covering and was excited to see these discussions becoming more mainstream.

The revelations of this evening have been disappointing to say the least.

(also for the record I know he made other more recent vids about IWTV but I haven't seen those and even if his account was still up I don't think I would lol

BUT

I did look at the transcript for his 'Vampires and the Gays Who Love Them' video (found from the same link I included above) and this quote about the IWTV AMC show is sending me: "Daniel has never grappled with the complexities of being gay"

Shoutout to straight, uncomplicated icon Daniel Molloy. Devil's Minion was a mass hallucination, spread the word)

[hyphen-8-it]

Having just rewatched Episode 3, what I love is that Jasper is doing such a great job as Thorn of seemingly subverting Tula's expectations. Where of course she rightly presumes that he will be interested in and open to investigating new intel about the Blue, but not at the expense of family and not rashly. Also not disregarding anyone's apprehensions, always open to hear everyone out first and letting them make their own decisions. There's so many moments of Thorn being so (unexpectedly?) nice, like acknowleding his future children when he's talking about choosing investigation over immediate safety [while Brennan in his head was already lining up the shot], like recognizing Tula's fears and gently "pitching" new ideas, like offering his head to her to touch after her breakdown, so willing to connect.

It makes me think of that conversation with Viola where Brennan as Tula was like "that must be nice" when Viola said Thorn listens to her and does what she says. That in turn makes me wonder what Tula and Geoffrey's relationship was actually like in life. As of yet she's only really spoken about him positively (though with great sadness) and gotten quite upset when Lila tried to blame her dad for his death or imply that he deserved it, thinking it would make her mom happy. I wonder whether, when he was alive, it may have been a serious point of conflict between the two of them, that Geoffrey would do brave but dangerous things in search of the Blue, that eventually led to him not being able to be there for his family. But now that he's dead Tula feels guilty about having/having had those feelings, because it wasn't his fault that he was brave enough to try to investigate the unknown even though it ended up killing him. In hindsight, her past worries have been validated but what help is a potential "I told you so" in her grief now? And does being 'right' taint the memory of the man she loved by highlighting his flaws, especially when he's not there anymore to defend himself from the criticism?

Did she 'make peace' with his death and forgive his rashness and now, seeing her sister's relationship with Thorn and how different it is, is that causing a fresh pain in a wound presumed healed, because it didn't need to be like this? That bravery could be mellowed out by consideration and the search for the Unknown does not always leave behind grieving families?

Or was Geoffrey just like Thorn, gentle and considerate of Tula's fears, and she is witnessing Viola's relationship with a dreadful sense of foreboding. Like she's watching an action replay of her life in the eyes of her younger sister.

I don't even know what I'd prefer, I'm just intrigued to see what more insight into what the Tula/Geoffrey relationship was like they're going to give us heading into Episode 4 and beyond.

[Also, added to that, her own children being so open to the Blue and excited to fight/investigate it, albeit tinged by their childlike innocence??? What a tangle of feelings that must be, no wonder she's hella overwhelmed! It seems to me that Tula's constant mental state is "everyone around me is going to die going after the Blue and there's nothing I can do about it". Like they've already been seduced by this frightening power and are leaving her behind, alone, in favour of their pursuit.]

[minas-linkverse]

I love hearing about your guys so I wanna ask - how do you think each of them feels about their adventure(s) as a whole? You've done really great at showing stuff that still haunts and affects them, but I'm curious about the overall opinion and attitude the different links have about what they've been through. And also Ravio

I love getting your asks 💛 I just suck at answering. OTL

I think this question could run really long, like I could go really into long form detail about this stuff, but since you asked about EVERYONE I'll try to write something manageable in size.

How does the gang feel about each of their canon story?

Sky - He feels like it all had to happen. It was a story written for them eras before he and Zelda were born, before Groose, Impa, Scrapper, maybe even before Fi... He tries to see it as a kind of honour, since everything worked out. He got to be an important piece of something that lead to saving the world and the people he loves. He's just happy to help! Really, no need to worry!

Twilight - He did love the people he got to meet and places he got to visit, Hyrule... No, the world is bigger than he could've ever imagined. He always knew Ordon Village was small, but wow. Wow... It's like a little chick, with a thousand beasts just beyond the woods. He's got to do something. He's got to be there for it.

Wild - He's chill ✌️ He's had a lot of time to think about things, and although it's a work in progress, he's finding peace with things.

Legend - At this point they feel like a tool to do what must be done, so that those who are safe from the horrors can continue to be so. He could complain, but eh. He'd rather see those people prosper than start fighting against the inevitable. Someone else would see this all as an honour, right?

Ravio - Well he thought he was going to watch the world end, so this all turned out pretty good! People try to tell him it was amazing of him to gather up the bravery to leave for Hyrule and aid the hero, but he can't help but to wonder if it was that ...or him fleeing. AH WELL, who cares. It all worked out! Let's just move on. He'll just apologize to Hilda one hundred times! What do you mean you don't want me to do that? Hilda? Hilda?? Come back I want to apolog-

Wind - Isn't it COOL?? He defeated TWO ancient evils. He did get lots of help! And he's very grateful! But he DID THAT! Ha suck it.

Yet... Why does it feel so off when he says that? He is so proud of what he's done, he loves the people around him, he's happy. Yet it feels like there's this giant boulder crushing him, or some deep hole he can't fill. What kind of nonsense is that...

Time - He's never truly belonged and never will, that's what he learnt. He was never a Kokiri, and he'll never be like the Hylians who he looks so much like. He grew up wrong and out of time. He doesn't even recognize the world he landed in. Guess he's glad the world is safe, but... When the journey is done, there's nothing but emptiness again.

Minish - He is the best most specialist little man, he saved Hyrule and his Grandpa is very proud. Zelda is so happy and he will do anything to make sure that stays!!!! He is so strong and special and capable and cannot be stopped for he will make everything MORE GOOD!!!!!!!

[ephemeral--dreams]

everybody wants me, so I give it away

Kaeya/Reader

Word count: 1175

Notes: it is 7am and I have not slept <3 anyway hurt/comfort hours

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

There's something about you, Kaeya thinks, that is a little too giving.

You're everywhere, doing everything, for everyone. You have built up a reputation for always being eager to help, to advise. You will solve any problem brought to you. They all know this, so you are burdened with tasks and favors and little troubles to solve. He notices the way you scurry around doing these things, the way sometimes you come back late in the afternoon only to finally do the paperwork and other tasks that you had set aside for the sake of helping around town instead. He doesn't quite know how you manage it all.

Well, that's not true. You manage it all by setting aside your own needs. He doesn't think he's ever seen you pause to take a break, to eat or drink or sleep. You do not turn away any requests and you do not ask for help.

You're as bad as Jean in this regard, it seems. Maybe worse.

But he's passed by your office at night, when it's late and you don't think you'll get caught showing the signs of exhaustion, the way you hunch over the desk, head in hands. He's seen the amount of caffeine you down just to push through everything. He's seen that haunted, desperate look in your eyes. And he knows.

Sacrifice sacrifice sacrifice. You give up everything of yourself, passing away pieces of your sanity heedless of how it may leave you nothing but an empty shell.

Kaeya does not intervene. How could he? He's seen the way you brush off any questions about yourself, the careful distance you keep between you and everyone else. You hold the secrets of those around you, yet no one truly knows you. It is something he can only see because he recognizes that sort of thing all too well - he, too, knows what it is like to keep one's guard up around others. He simply doesn't know what your reasoning for it is. He would imagine it's for the simplest reason. That you do not wish to burden others when you are too busy trying to help them. You are too kind and too desperate to please.

He would like to tell you to stop trying to fix everyone else when it seems that you need fixing yourself.

He does not tell you this.

It is all going to end in a spectacular trainwreck one day. There are many things like that in Mondstadt. Many people who may one day bring disaster. Himself included. 

No, no. He does not intervene. But he does spend more time around you, watchful. Intrigued. He drags you along with him for drinks sometimes. Pokes at you at work. Makes some of your paperwork mysteriously disappear (he steals it while you're out doing a favor for one of the knights, and then does it himself).

It's two years before this routine changes at all. Two years of the steady process of trying to tug down your walls, two years of you giving and giving. 

It's on one of those late nights, everyone else gone home, when he finds you.

(He remembers the one time you'd gotten drunk enough to let anything slip, the way you'd said to him that you needed to be needed because it was the only thing that made anything worth it. He had never been able to pry that much honesty out of you before or since.)

That sort of mentality could only be a terrible burden. It's obvious that it must be, now, as he finds you breaking apart all alone in your office. 

Kaeya has never seen you cry. Any glimpse of an expression beyond that calm smile was few and far between, seen only by accident. This was… he had to pause for a long moment as he tried to settle on a course of action. 

Your eyes catch his somewhere between panic and desperation, reflecting a delude of emotions, and the choice is made almost without thought as he finally moves forward. There's no further hesitation as he tugs you into his arms, where you really should have been sooner, he thinks, but that doesn't matter at the moment. There's a sort of tension in your frame, rigid, breathing unstable, like you don't quite know how to react to the development.

Kaeya wonders when you were last offered comfort, rather than the other way around?

Then the dam breaks again, and he hushes you soothingly as your tears soak into him, the weight of everything collapsing down upon you. His own heart aches more than he'd expected it to. In his attempts to unravel your mysteries he must've gotten more attached than he intended. Perhaps that's not a bad thing. Everyone needs someone to watch over them. He's been the only one to do that for you, so it only follows that he would be here now, holding you and your pain in his hands.

He keeps you there until your tears slow and you pull away. He lets you have a minute to collect yourself, though not too long. There are words that need to be said here, before you start trying to distance yourself again.

"Feeling better?"

A stabilizing breath. "...Yes. Thank you."

"Mhm. Of course," You're going to reject the offer, but it must be said anyway. "Maybe you dislike the idea, but you can rely on me, you know."

"...I'm not supposed to need anyone else."

And who convinced you of that, hm? Mysteries for another time.

"Says who, hm? I think my words should override everyone else's, don't you? And I'm saying you can always come to me."

You shake your head, jaw clenching as you look away from him. "I-I don't… it was a moment of weakness, I'm-"

"You're fine? Playing it off that way doesn't work so well when I just caught you crying, snowflake."

There's a long, silent pause. You can't deny that. You both know it. Kaeya does not intend to let you break yourself down for the people around you without someone to build you back up again. 

Your eyes meet his. "Why do you want to help me?"

"Hmm. There's multiple answers to that... Let's just say I've been keeping an eye on you for a while, and I don't think you should push yourself as much as you do. I'm invested in your continued health, so you won't be escaping me anytime soon…~"

"I only push myself as far as I need to."

"Oh, now, we both know that's not the truth."

"...I don't want to burden you with anything."

He tilts his head consideringly. He's got you now. "It's not a burden if I offered."

"Well…" It's fairly clear that you're conflicted. That you do want his help, but you don't want to accept it even then. You're going to, in the end. He didn't spend these years coaxing you into trusting him for nothing. "...Alright. But don't feel obligated."

Kaeya smiles. Despite your hesitance, you smile back.

Maybe not everything necessarily needs to end in disaster.