#and i may or may not have written something for him too

[lvrrgirlll]

Knight in Shining Armor

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Pairing: medieval princess ! reader x knight ! Patrick Zweig

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, p in v, fem reader, knives mentioned (briefly in a nightmare?), some Christian biblical imagery and mentions of sin/religious related guilt (I was playing into the whole medieval royalty thing idk)

Notes: Thank you guys for all the love on the moodboard/little blurb on this!!! Without all the support I wouldn’t have been inspired to go crazy and write this (I fear this will seem like the most pretentious fic ever written bc I really lent into the medieval thing so the language feels kinda crazy at some points…idk, if y’all were rocking with the last one, you’ll probably rock with this lol) Enjoy!!

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

You did your best to avoid Patrick in court the following days. You were unsure if you could even face him after your dream. But, of course, nothing can last forever. An attempted attack on your wing of the castle (which was, thankfully, stopped by the valiance of Sir Patrick) led to a change that would greatly affect your fate.

As you entered the grand hall of the castle to take your seat in court, you noticed Sir Patrick in his armor —something rather unusual to see in the castle, though you didn't mind— speaking to your father, metal helmet in hand. Your father had always favored Patrick, you presumed for his determination and natural swagger, and acted as such. He was the head knight of the royal guard and spoke with the King frequently. Taking notice of your presence, your father addressed you whilst you curtsied. “Good daughter, what fortune you arrive now of all times. In light of the attack on your wing, I have decided to appoint Sir Patrick himself to be your personal guard. Your safety is of the utmost importance to me and this entire kingdom. It is only right I appoint our best knight.” Your father smiled warmly at Patrick then.

“I thank you, your majesty,” Patrick bows before the King. “I shall be prepared to risk my life for the life of our princess.” At that, he turns to you, offering a look so secretly smug you have trouble maintaining your composure. You simply smile and nod, silently acknowledging the workings of your father and the knight that now create a great dilemma for you.

“Father, I am suddenly feeling quite faint. Might I take my leave and rest for the afternoon?” You just want to get away from him. He’s dangerous. You can hardly control yourself around him. And what’s worse is he knows it.

Your father, concerned, approves of your leave, though you feel dismayed when Sir Patrick follows you. “I am perfectly capable of making my way back, myself. Thank you, sir,” you offer, trying to be as strict as you can, for your own sake more than his.

“M’lady, perhaps you did not understand. As your personal guard, I am tasked with protecting you at all times. This would require that I be with you at all times. The King wills it so.” He speaks formally though his tone is far too pleased to be merely dutiful. You had not considered that. Sighing, you merely nod in understanding before turning again to return to your room.

In your room, Patrick takes his station directly outside the door. “I am only a moment away. Do not hesitate should you need me.” He may not know exactly how you may need him…

You nod, though, smiling softly before closing the door, creating a divide between the two of you. You are overcome by desire. You feel dirty, guilty, and wrong…but you know he feels the same. And he is noble; he is a gentleman…would it be so bad if you acted on your feelings? God, you feel foolish. You have hardly spoken to him in the years he has served at the castle. What feelings could you really be harboring?

Sick of your racing thoughts, you resolve that a nap would be the best right now. In your sleep, though, you dream of enemies breaking through your windows and climbing up the tower of your wing. It is utterly terrifying. You can feel yourself stirring, heart racing and sweating profusely, as your subconscious plays tricks on you. In your nightmare, a cloaked figure, face hidden in the shadows of his hood, plunges a dagger through your heart, causing you to lurch awake with a loud cry. You are breathing heavily, trying to adjust to your new, real surroundings and shake the terror of the dream when you hear Sir Patrick through the door.

“Your Majesty? Are you alright…?” You do not answer, still shaken and attempting to compose yourself. “I am entering, m'lady.” And before you can tell him not to, that you’re alright, Patrick burst through the door, already reaching for his sword. Seeing you are merely sat in bed, his urgency leaves him, concern taking over. “Is there not a threat?” He observes, then, the state you are in. Dressed only in your thin, white nightgown (which has grown somewhat see-through on account of your nightmare induced sweat soaking through the fabric), Patrick is reduced to nothing but a mere man in love, forgetting himself entirely. Unbeknownst to you, he adjusts himself in his trousers, clearing his throat.

The room is illuminated only by the cold, pale light of the moon shining through your large paned windows. Shadows dance across his features as a breeze blows the trees outside steadily. He has never looked more beautiful. Both concern and lust play on his face, leaving you to squirm just a bit more than you normally would have under his gaze. Looking down then, you reply, embarrassed. “Forgive me for my foolishness. There is no present threat. I am sorry to have wasted your time and effort, good sir.” You bow your head in remorse. This on its own is a sign of you respect for the knight before you. Technically, he should be bowing to you, but under his gaze you feel so small, yet so regarded at the same time. It is unlike with any other man, though it is rare you interact with many often anyways. You lift your head, meeting his eyes again and feeling your stomach flip.

A pang of guilt runs through you as you realize you are noticeably smiling at him. Despite his nobility, you believe the two of you would never be. The only way your union: emotional, physical, spiritual, or (more officially) marital would ever occur would be if your father willed it. And though Sir Patrick was your father’s right hand man, it was the relationship of that of an employer and his best employee, not that of father and son nor of old companions.

Your smile dropped and so did his. He knew what he was doing, his silent, unspoken, but clear pursuit of you ever since that fateful night was wrong. But he did not care. He had no regard for his own life or death, he was a knight, after all. He risked himself for this kingdom, he would be willing to risk himself for you. He brought a hand up, cupping your face in his large palm, and offering you a sorry smile. “To defend you, threat or no threat, is my life’s honor, m’lady. You have wasted nothing of mine.” His hand brushed your ear as he tucked your hair behind it. Seeing you with your hair down for the first time was something entirely new to him, similar to when you first saw him shirtless that night. In typical court fashion, you would never leave your chambers with your hair fully down. Seeing you so bare, so honest, and unadorned felt novelty. He was grateful for his wit, being able to convince the King that he should serve you personally.

You, however, were so deeply conflicted. You knew better. Your station in society as well as in life did not allow for these endeavors. But your mind, you body, your heart…they longed for your knight in shining armor. His touch, though somewhat chaste, only holding your head in his hands, felt deeply intimate. You considered your options. “Sir, might I ask your discretion in asking a favor?” Your felt fearful of your own desires, but conjured up as much confidence as possible.

“Always, m’lady.”

You tugged your bottom lip into your mouth for a moment, before continuing. “M- might you…kiss me?” It was hard to maintain your composure, overcome with shame as you looked up pleadingly into his eyes. It was only the two of you in your bedchamber, the door closed —yet another forbidden thing.

Softening, a smirk gracing his features, he sighed. “I would be a fool not to.” This was exactly what he had been wanting since he first saw a portrait of you. The strength required of his position kept his feelings concealed, but in this one, small moment alone with you, he could reveal them. He leaned in slowly, closing the gap between you as his lips move against yours feverishly. You can feel his tongue dart out and wet your bottom lip, but you pull away quickly before he is able to deepen the kiss.

“I am sorry. This is…” you search for the words, not wanting to be so harsh but wanting to be clear. “This is sinful.” Your eyes meet his, pleading for him to offer you a reprieve from your consuming feelings by distancing himself. Though, that twinkle behind your eyes and in the corner of your lips betrayed you. He could see you had fallen for him the same as he for you.

He takes a seat next to you on your bed, looking into your eyes earnestly. “If I it is a sin to touch you, I would become a sinner every day till I am dragged to hell, should you allow me?” He was begging you to let him touch you, feel you, love you. And who would you be to deny him?

You were quiet for a moment, considering your fate and whether or not you would be able to find absolution after giving in. Throwing caution to the wind, you allow yourself, for once, to make your own decisions. "Please, good sir. Touch me. Take me, for I am all yours."

He wasted no time, leaning in to kiss you, his armor clanging against itself as he did so. The kiss was passionate, the years of admiring you from afar being poured out in this one moment. Breaking the kiss, suddenly, he stood, leaving you confused until he began swiftly removing his armor. He made sure to set each piece down gently, so as not to alert and servants lingering nearby of his presence in your chambers. You tried to stifle your smile as his form was revealed more and more with each layer of metal gone. It was new and exciting, and his gentleness despite his clear eagerness was unbelievably admirable.

Once he had removed it all, clad only in a white linen undershirt and trousers, he returned to your bed, leaning over you and pulling you into another deep kiss. This time, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, licking softly into it, his nose brushing against your cheek as he pressed closer into you, as if he longed for your two bodies to be one. It was impossible to be any closer, but you did not mind one bit. Though timid at first, your kisses matched his fervor. You could feel his calloused hand combing through your hair as his other snuck lower, carressing you through your nightgown. You let out a shivered breath at his touch.

"Is this alright, my lady?" He pulled back, looking into your eyes longingly. God, forgive you, but you needed this so badly. You both did.

You nodded, lifting your hips to gather your nightgown up and off of you, casting it aside carelessly. Now, you really felt exposed. But something about Patrick made you want to feel honest; made you want to seek pleasure shamelessly. His eyes widened in tandem with his smirk. He was so pleased and so in love.

"I've never...I-...I'm a virgin," you admitted, looking up at him through your thick lashes. His smile only widened, but not in some sort of sick, smarmy way. It was genuine and kind.

"Oh, I know, your highness. Or...I imagined as much. Not to worry, I am well aware of how to please a woman," he spoke softly, trying not to intimidate you. You would have taken offense at his mention of his previous experience, but you had imagined he was experienced in the first place, as many men and knights of his age are by now. It is different for you, a princess, always expected to remain pure. With him, you did not fear impurity after this. You felt strongly that you would steadfast remain pure in his eyes till the end of time.

He leaned in again, placing hot kisses along your neck. He moved to remove his trousers as he did so, working at the string that held them up quickly. As he did so, your fingers found their way to the tie that held his shirt together, pulling at the string with a new confidence, you brought your hands to the hem and he pulled away from your neck to remove his shirt. Both his bandages and bruises were gone, a good sign, but there was a scar where he had been scratched, a reminder of your previous encounter.

His trousers finally hanging low around his legs, he teased himself around your entrance, causing you to jolt and whimper beneath him. The feeling was entirely foreign but oh so enchanting. He reached a hand down, running his fingers through your folds, smirking at the wetness that gathered on his fingers. "You are like the Lady of The Lake...beautiful, otherworldly, and so, so wet..." Patrick murmured lustfully. It was such a dirty compliment, but you were so deeply moved.

Like your dream, you were both under your layers upon layers of white sheets, so warm, close, and intimate. His fingers danced around your clit, circling it at an agonizingly slow pace. You gasped, sucking in a breath quickly and biting your lip so as not to make any more sound. He did not miss this, leaning in to peck you on the lips before reminding you "The walls are stone, the door thick oak and iron. We should be cautious, yes, but you mustn't be embarrassed to make a sound. It is better, in fact, if you do."

His reassurance brought a smile to your face as you dropped your lip from your teeth, a sign that you were allowing yourself the honesty you so craved with Patrick. He resumed his hand movements around your most sensitive spot, causing you to let out a symphony of high pitched gasps. His fingers moved away then, moving down and slipping inside of you, first one, then another. The stretch was unfamiliar and hurt a bit, something your scrunched eyebrows didn't hide, but he did not move them for a moment, allowing you to adjust. "All will be well," he cooed into your ear, lips brushing against your skin. "I just need to warm you up."

His fingers began to move, first only in and out at a steady pace, but soon replaced by him scissoring his fingers deep inside of you, your walls squuezing him tightly. "Good sir..." you sighed in pleasure.

"Patrick," he corrected. "You may call me by my God given name: Patrick."

"Patrick..." you sighed again as he quickened the pace of his fingers. To your surprise, though, he pulled his fingers out abruptly. You almost protested, but he swiftly replaced his fingers with his cock, pushing lightly at your entrance.

"May I," he asked, looking into you eyes unwaveringly.

"Please," you nearly moaned in response. He followed your request, sheathing himself inside of you slowly, allowing you time to adjust to the thickness and length that so differed from that of his fingers. He watched your reaction carefully, taking in the way your breath hitches and your eyes flutter shut, eyebrows knitting together in both pleasure and pain. You inhaled sharply as he bottoms out, feeling as if he was practically prodding at your stomach.

"Are you ready for me to move," he inquired, eyes lidded and breathing already heavy in awe of you beneath him.

Looking up at him then, as if he were an angel or possibly some type of temptation sent by the devil that you had so easily fallen for, like Eve and the apple, you yearned to take a bite. "Patrick," it felt unfamiliar to address him so informally, but there was an undeniable intimacy in doing so as well. "If I should wait any longer it may kill me."

With that, he began moving, his pace quick but not agonizing, instead quite tender. You cried out, moans, sighs, and gasps leaving your lips repeatedly as his hips met yours time and time again. His gaze didn't leave yours, except when he would close his eyes, losing himself in a particularly deep thrust. His skin on yours was warm, a stark difference from your naturally cold body. "God, Princess, you are better than I've ever imagined."

The thought that he had imagined this with you made you feel elated, but you couldn't even bring yourself to offer a witty reply, overtaken by pleasure. "P- Patrick," you moaned, your whole body feeling hot suddenly. He quickened his pace just a bit, leaning in to suck at your neck as his other hand came up to toy with your hardened nipples. It felt so sinful but so perfect and right. How could something this good ever be wrong?

At his added touch, hips still pistoning in and out of you, it all felt like too much. Your stomach began to tighten, walls clenched tightly around him, bringing him to an almost sorry state as his jaw went slack, eyes closing suddenly and his thrusts becoming sloppier. It was impossible to restrain yourself as your hips began bucking up to meet his. "Please, please, please," you didn't even know what you were asking for but you knew you needed it.

"I'm there too, Princess. Come on, let's finish together..." he moved his hand from your chest to you clit, rubbing swift circles as he slammed his hips into yours. Pleasure finally overtook you entirely as you fluttered around him, body stiffening and falling weak as you reach your high. He pulled out of you quickly, his hand moving to finish himself off lazily on your stomach through stifled grunts. When you were both completely spent, he momentarily laid next to you in bed, both of you looking up at the grand vaulted ceilings of your bedchambers.

"Thank you, Patrick, for showing me a kindness I should never know how to repay," you whisper softly. He sits up slightly, turning to you and offering a chaste kiss to your cheek.

"You should never have to 'repay' me. After all, I live to serve you, my dear Princess."

[olivialivvy17]

Racing to the beat - Daniel Ricciardo³

summary: Daniel gets a new teammate in VCRB, a F2 female championship winner for the 2025 season. What he didn't expect was her to be extremely genz and a kpop fan.

pairing: fem rookie driver!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

AU: Social media!AU and Written!AU

warnings: mentions of anxiety, swearing, use of yn, hate comments, reader is 25.

face claim: Amna Al Qubaisi for professional f1 photos, the rest are from pinterest.

wc: 837

a/n: hi guyssss. okay most of the details in the first part may not be accurate. I tried describing the way I saw it on the singapore gp '24 (dannys last race </3). so yeah pls forgive me for that. okay enjoy and I love youuuu <33

part three <prev. next>

Hands trembling as you sit up from the car seat, knees buckling trying to carefully step out the sizzling car. Taking the polite mechanic's hand to stabilize yourself as your other foot lands on the hard concrete of Parc Ferme. With quivering fingers, you snatch off the gloves from your clammy hands, stuffing them into the race suit pockets.

In the background fireworks cracked and boomed, their echoes rolling across the sky like thunderous applause, but to your ears the sound was just a muffle as you took off the helmet that's been squeezing your face for the past two hours. Yanking off the white balaclava and finally taking in a deep breath of unfortunately stuffy air. Taking the back of your hand and wiping off the sweat that's formed on your hairline and eyebrows, fixing blindly any flyaways that might have formed. 

After taking a moment to fix yourself up and come down from the high a bit, you finally look around to take in your surroundings. Seeing many mechanics bustling around the cars that arrived before you, the colorfully lit up podium with the race winners and the screaming and thrilled fans on the side. Pulling you out the adrenaline clouded mind was the sound of Kimis voice.

“You did so well!” Kimi exclaimed in excitement as he wrapped his arms around you while holding his helmet

Encircling your own arms around him and giving his back a couple of pats, “You did amazing too! I'm honestly so proud of us” you told him in a triumphant tone. 

Kimi has been by your side throughout all of your F3 and F2 days. Even though he’s younger than you, he always treated your friendship like you were his peer. Sure you did treat him a little bit like he was your little brother, but never to the point of babying him so much. Kimi is a spectacular driver and you always make sure to show him that.

Walking side by side, you two made your way away from the cars. Waving and saying ‘Congrats’ or ‘Good race’ to other drivers, all with a polite smile. While unzipping your track suit, desperate to have it peeled off your overheating body, your eyes land on the back of a familiar curly headed man. Excusing yourself to Kimi and telling him you’ll find him later, you saunter to the Honey Badger.

Gently placing your hand on his back as you approached him, “Great race Danny” you follow with a proud smile as you stand by him, body turned fully to him.

Your praise was met with one of those Daniel smiles. Ear to ear, pearly whites on display as his eyes crinkled like the delicate folds of a butterfly’s wings, soft and tender. His raw, bright energy wraps around your heart and mind like a breath of fresh air. Making all the worries and doubts dissipate effortlessly. 

“You were remarkable Yn”, he lauded as his hand comfortably made its way to your shoulder “I told you everything is gonna go well”

You nodded softly in agreement, “Yeah you were right.” as a quiet chuckle leaves your lips “Although I was shaking a little as I exited the car, I guess that's just adrenaline.”

Just as Daniel was about to say something, he was interrupted by a supervisor that informed you both had to go and give the post race interviews. Scurrying you off the paddock and to the little interview area.

“Hold me back if they start asking some ridiculous or sexist questions, because I swear I’ll swing” you said half jokingly, but it was obvious you were more serious.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly “I got you, don’t worry. I might swing before you do”

You snorted in response as you approached the interviewer– Lawrence Barreto. That's when the nerves crept back up. Okay, yeah its valid to be anxious about being interviewed for the first time in formula one– you tell yourself. All you have to do is not embarrass yourself by saying something stupid. 

“Yn! Welcome and congrats on a fantastic first F1 race!” Lawrence exclaimed in that journalist voice, while you fidget with your awfully damp hands “How does it feel?” he asks, putting the microphone to your lips

“Uuhh well it’s definitely a lot” you chuckle sheepishly “but it’s such an ecstatic feeling. Being able to race side by side with so many talented and experienced drivers. Driving the same track as the championship winners, I’m truly so grateful and thankful to be here today and to have the opportunity to show the world that hard work, skill and dreams don’t know gender. That with enough passion and strength you can achieve anything you put your mind to”, finishing your honest and heartfelt answer with a beaming smile. Feeling the way your heart hammered against your ribs, like it wants to rip through your chest.

What you didn’t notice was the way Daniel beamed with pride as he watched you give the statement.

ynusername made a post

liked by bestfriend, danielricciardo and others

ynusername thank you Australia! first race and omg it was thrilling! (thank you Danny for the encouraging words🫶🏻🥹)

view all comments

bestfriend THATS MY GIRLLLLLLL🫶🏻🫶🏻❤️❤️

user19 mhm, yeah mother ate 🙂‍↕️☝🏻

user20 I was literally screaming every time her car came up on the screen

kimi.antonelli my big sis🥹

ynusername stop I'm gonna cry😭

user2 they are so siblings, I love them

user21 oh I know Yn babies him

kimi.antonelli she does...

ynusername correct because you're still just a baby

alex_albon yeah kimi, you're still a baby

ynusername thank you Alex🙏🏻

jackdoohan Congrats Yn! ❤️

ynusername we did so well 🙏🏻🫶🏻

visacashapprb Very proud of our rookie!

ynusername thank you team for putting up with my singing while practicing (ik yall enjoyed it)

user22 I dare you to fuck up her car. I will unleash my wrath upon you

user23 I just know Yns team has so much fun with her

danielricciardo 🤍🤍🤍

ynusername 🤍🤍🤍

ynusername posted a story

ynusername made a post

liked by lando, alex_albon and others

ynusername you guys these parties are not for the faint of heart (I don't remember going back to the hotel) :p

view all comments

alex_albon mate you were gone gone

ynusername im so gonna get bullied by the whole grid, aren't I? 😭

georgerussell63 oh yes rookie, I have so much blackmail material

ynusername this is not fair

lando I made the cut, let's goooooooo

ynusername thanks for putting on good music :3

lando always at service 🫡

user24 THE TOTO PIC, LITERALLY DIED

user25 forever grateful for drunk yn posting that

user26 okay body and hair tea😩

danielricciardo Kimi and I safely delivered you to your hotel room

kimi.antonelli I can confirm, you almost lost your heels out the club

ynusername thank you my pookies 🫶🏻 drunk me is very thankful

user27 oh to have such caring friends 😔

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

You know what, I'm fucking done arguing with a brick wall.

Hon you can just concede, agree to disagree, and be done with it, you don't have to pretend like I'm a "brick wall" who hasn't been making well-wrought points to refute yours. I took the time to respond very exhaustively to you, point-by-point — give me a fucking break, lmao

Send my apologies to your English literature teachers for having to put up with you.

I mean several of them are dead (it's been quite a long while since I was in school), so I'm gonna stop you right there. All I'll say is: people who are really truly into literature on a professional level, such as my mentors, or myself, have a strong appreciation for deep engagement with a text. What you think of as a "brick wall" (debate, exegesis, and fondness for overlooked details), my English lit teachers held in high regard. We had a hell of a lot of fun dissecting material together. It's fine that you don't enjoy this kind of thing, but don't pretend that it's somehow a slight against you, or that my points aren't worth seeing.

And take a good hard look about whether you would feel any different if the story stayed exactly the same except you swapped Fiyero and Glinda's genders.

Right back atcha, hon. Your takes have been pretty consistently sexist.

Let me leave you with one thought though, honey. If this is just "reading from the text" then presumably you think Winnie and Stephen agree with your delusions?

Winnie and Stephen pretty transparently wrote Fiyero to be the Early 2000s Slightly Rebellious Male Heartthrob For the Girls to Fight Over and not much else. He's been improved greatly in the film adaptation by NOT being that, and as I've said many times, I would love if they've ended up canonizing the double agent idea in the second film; albeit, as I've explained, I think that he'd lose something if he were made too straightforwardly "good". It doesn't matter whether Winnie, Stephen, or any of the directors or actors that have interpreted Fiyero over the years, specifically "agree" with me. Theatre of all mediums lends itself especially to a panoply of readings. There is no set-in-stone "canon". I just find certain takes to be ignorant of the details of the text, and I've argued against those takes. I happened, in the process, to do analysis which spawned further discourse. But it isn't like my analysis is Word of God: it's just fun to discuss ultima facie instead of prima facie. Your reading may well be closer to prima facie in certain ways — but that's not somehow an argument in and of itself for being "correct". You and I both made our arguments and apparently mine are now left to stand as ultima facie, as you have run out of counters.

Seems awfully cruel of them to go out of their way to save Elphaba from dying at the end of the story to leave her with an oh so awful fascist soldier?

The fact you seem to believe I think of Fiyero as "oh so awful" just tells me you haven't been engaging seriously with anything I've said.

He's a fascist soldier. That is something that should be reckoned with and examined in any real analysis of his character. He isn't "awful" — I never claimed he was, far from it — and he is certainly not the first or last character to have the narrative gloss over more troubling details and implications about what was written for them. But don't come at me for pointing those details and implications out, just because you personally dislike them, lol. I'm not the one who came up with Fiyero volunteering to become a fascist soldier: take that up with Holzman, lol

Also, if Elphaba was happy to fuck Fiyero in the woods and later leave with him, she clearly thought what he did was justified given the circumstance.

Hon, it's not that deep, lmao. They boned because they're passionate people with unresolved sexual tension suddenly given an opportunity — the only opportunity — to resolve it. Elphaba was not weighing his past several years for their moral soundness whilst riding him, lmfao

And I think the biggest Animal rights activist probably knows better than either of us the about the situation :)

Perhaps she does, perhaps she doesn't. We can only speculate. All we know is that she was frightened of him, and was worried he'd bought into the propaganda against her — which is a fair concern, given how he spent those years. She's relieved to find that he hasn't succumb to the hate against her, and that he isn't trying to harm her, and... that's really all that's stated, and that's all that need be stated. It's probably the first time in years that a human hasn't been her enemy — I don't think she wants to go there and review his choices, for her own sake, and I don't blame her for that one bit. But just because she doesn't go there doesn't mean that we shouldn't. We aren't bound to the POV of any singular character: we get to study them from beyond the fourth wall as much as we want, and there's a TON of interesting stuff there.

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[secret-moonstruck]

STUCK ON ME | Y.JW | PART 2

— Pairing: Jungwon x fem!reader | Part 01 | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: When Y/N was with her friend, Jungwon became jealous and possessive. He decided to show who Y/N belonged to. .

— Genre: smut, Horror, bloody

— Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, praising, cum inside, making out, clit play, begging, hickeys, cum eating, overstimulation, gore, death, blood, torture, kidnapping, more. .

Warning: The content may be dangerous. Read at your own discretion.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

A few weeks have passed since Y/N met Jungwon, at first it was a bit difficult, but now she was getting used to the situation.

She had gone out for drinks with some people from the publishing house to celebrate the sales of her book, among them was Hyun, he was the cute guy who worked there and he always showed interest in Y/N, whenever she went to the publishing house he tried to please her.

When they left the bar, they decided to walk a bit. He was a little drunk and started confessing to Y/N again.

- Why don't you go out with me? - He said, stopping suddenly and turning her towards him.

Before Y/N could say anything, he disappeared. She saw him a short distance away in the alley next door, pinned against the wall with a furious Jungwon choking him.

- What the hell is this? What the hell are you doing? - She ran towards them. - Let him go now, Jungwon.

She ordered, she knew he couldn't disobey an order from her, she had already witnessed how it caused some kind of horrible pain.

However, he didn't let him go; he suffocated him until his body fell to the ground unconscious.

Y/N thought he had killed him, and out of fear, she ended up fainting.

Upon waking up, she still felt a bit dazed, looked around, and saw that she was in some kind of abandoned warehouse. She saw Jungwon sitting on a table reading a book calmly, but when he lowered the book and smiled at her, his face and clothes were covered in blood.

She looked around desperately and saw Hyun unconscious, bloodied, and tied up in a corner of the room.

- Did you kill him? - She asked in despair.

Jungwon rolled his eyes before putting down the book and getting off the table.

- Not yet, my dear. Maybe, if you are very nice, I'll let him live.

He approached Hyun and kicked him to wake him up.

- Where is Y/N? Please, let us go. - Hyun said as soon as he woke up, further irritating Jungwon.

- Who or what do you think you are to try to steal something that is mine? - He lifted him up before throwing him back to the ground.

- Please stop. He is innocent, he didn't do anything. I am yours, okay, you know, you always remind me of that. He has nothing to do with us, let him go. - Y/N pleaded.

A horrible pain coursed through Jungwon's entire body for disobeying her, but it only enraged him even more; she was causing him pain to protect that worm.

Jungwon approached her, lowering himself to her level with a smile that frightened her.

- I know you are mine, but it seems he doesn't know yet, and you seem to have forgotten. - He squeezed her neck, making her stand up. - Maybe I should remind you who you belong to, and show this nothing that you only have one owner.

Still with his hands on her neck, he pulled her face for a kiss full of anger.

- Now, how about you being a good girl? - He pushed her away, and as if it were nothing, dragged the table to where she was.

- Don't touch her, or I'll kill you. - Hyun shouted.

Jungwon went up to him and gagged him, he wanted to kill him, but not before displaying her, not before showing who she belongs to.

Leaning against the table, he ordered her to come closer, she obeyed out of fear.

- Suck me, like the good slut you are, show him what he'll never have.

Trembling, Y/N did as he commanded, kneeling in front of him. She tried to open his pants, but she was trembling too much. He got irritated and took off his clothes by himself, his cock already hard, waiting to be sucked.

Y/N looked at Hyun, who was struggling to break free, before turning their attention back to Jungwon.

With tears in her eyes, she touched him, pumping it before running her tongue over the tip covered with pre-cum, eliciting a moan from him. She licked his length a few times before putting it in her mouth, starting to suck it, but he needed more, he pushed everything in, making her gag.

Jungwon held her by the hair while pushing deep into her throat. The sight of her crying, choking on his cock, excited him even more; he pulled out of her lips and came all over her face.

- Come here dear. - He said, helping her to stand up and bringing her closer to Hyun. He pushed her in front of him, holding her face firmly to confront Hyun.

- Isn't she beautiful covered in my cum? - He smiled frighteningly as he said that.

- Do you know how she becomes more beautiful? When she's moaning desperately for me to fuck her. - Upon saying this, he bit Y/N's neck.

Y/N shuddered at the initial pain of the bite, but soon it was exactly as he wanted, moans escaping her lips mixed with her heavy breathing. Her legs tightening as she began to feel aroused.

Hyun looked horrified as Jungwon drank Y/N's blood. Jungwon easily tore her dress, and did the same with her underwear, before running his fingers over Y/N's pussy.

- You really are a slut, how can you already be so wet? You really get turned on by having your blood sucked, don't you?

Desperate moans escaped Y/N's lips as Jungwon's fingers worked on her pussy. She no longer cared about anything else, she just wanted more.

- Yes, yes, please, Jungwon, I love this, more, please.

Despite being scared, Hyun was starting to get excited seeing Y/N in that state. It was wrong, everything there was wrong, but he couldn't help it.

- Look Y/N, he likes what he sees. - Jungwon continued his movements while rubbing her clitoris with his other hand. - Come on, darling, cum for me already, let's go.

She shuddered, Jungwon's voice both sweet and venomous pushing her to orgasm, she came on his fingers, just as he wanted.

He raised his hand, displaying it with a smile before licking his fingers, while moaning in pleasure.

Y/N knew it wasn't over yet, Jungwon picked her up, she was still trembling when he set her down on the table.

He saw her tired face, her eyes red from crying. He wiped her face, which was still covered in his cum.

- You don't know how beautiful you look like this, all messed up. - He said, caressing her face. His fingers running over her face and neck. - It just makes me want you even more.

He said before biting her again, while pushing his painful cock into her wet pussy.

Y/N gasped in surprise when she felt him enter her so suddenly. If it weren't for him holding her, she would have already collapsed on the table while he mercilessly pounded inside her, the sound echoing through the room.

- J... Jungwon, please! I want, I need. - Y/N was begging for their liberation.

Hearing Y/N's pleas, Jungwon couldn't hold back and came, painting the inside of Y/N, who not long after also reached their orgasm.

Jungwon pulled away from Y/N, watched for a few seconds as her pussy leaked before starting to lick it, holding her thighs firmly. While sucking every drop, his claws tore into Y/N's thighs, who screamed with a mix of pain and pleasure, still very sensitive from the previous orgasm. She buckled, trembling, when she came again, this time more intensely than the others, covering Jungwon's face, who savored every drop before releasing her with an arrogant smile, while Y/N collapsed on the table, her breath still uneven.

She had already forgotten about Hyun, but when she remembered and looked in his direction, her eyes widened in panic.

Jungwon, already dressed, was holding Hyun by the neck with his hand inside his chest.

- No! - Y/N shouted, a desperate scream, a scream that caused an unbearable pain in Jungwon, he had already endured too much pain disobeying her that night.

With a quick movement, Jungwon pulled his hand back, covered in blood, with Hyun's heart in it. Blood splattering across his face, while the most terrifying smile Y/N could imagine was on his face.

He threw Hyun's body to the ground and went to Y/N. The pain of disobedience was torturous, but the anger was greater.

- This is so you never forget that you belong solely to me. - He held her by the shoulders. - And remember that I will never allow you to get close to any man again. I am the only one for whom you should exist. You are mine, and you must never forget that.

The panic that was etched on Y/N's face was replaced by a dark smile, which left Jungwon confused.

- What? Why are you smiling? - He said, releasing her.

Y/N pulled Jungwon close, tilting their head while still smiling.

- You look so sexy like this. - She pushed him away while assessing how he was covered in blood, eyes shining, his expression full of rage. She loved it.

- Y/N said while getting dressed. - Just thinking about having to put up with him every time I entered that building. Aaaah, so annoying.

Jungwon was confused, why was she acting like this when just a moment ago she was crying for him to spare Hyun?

- You know, Jungwon, I was kind of missing the feeling from when we first met, how you seemed so cruel that night. I wanted to see that side of you again, so I decided to combine two useful things. I could have fun and also get rid of something annoying.

- You are a psychopath. - Jungwon didn't know if he found her scary or amazing.

- Oh, no, of course not. I'm just a defenseless woman trapped by a sadistic vampire. - She said with a false fear on her face before approaching him with a smile and kissing him.

— Note2: Sorry if it's not good, I'll try to improve it.

[tulpanya]

How would everyone react when they have a crush? Are the obvious or good at keeping secret that they have a huge love for the reader?

a crush? on you? haha... yeah.

includes : (mouthwashing) anya, curly, daisuke, swansea.

summary : how they are when they have a crush on you!

warnings : gn! reader.

ANYA

It takes Anya a while to realize she has a crush on you, either because she's pushing her blooming feelings very far down or because she's just a bit oblivious.

When she does finally come to terms with the fact she has a crush on you?

She suddenly gets very clumsy whenever you enter a room, and her thoughts are all askew whenever you send her a smile or ask her a question. It becomes a little obvious that something is up with her.

"Anya?" You call after catching her from almost tripping and landing on her face. "You okay?" She blinks up at you a few times, her brain slowly processing what's happening.

"I- uhm, huh?" Concern is written all over your face. You help her stand upright, though you don't let her scramble away like she was planning.

"Let's get you to the medbay, I'll give you a check up." Her face is flushed, especially when you insist on helping her walk back to medbay, which only makes you more concern for her wellbeing.

In terms of affection, Anya does grow a little detached because she worries that perhaps her previously casual and friend-like affection will make you uncomfortable.

She definitely isn't one to make any moves on you despite her growing feelings. She'll wait until you ask her out- and if that never happens then she'll just try her hardest to put the feelings to rest.

Anya is very patient though, so take your time- but maybe not too long, yeah?

CURLY

TAKES SO, SO LONG for him to realize he has a crush on you. He has a lot of responsibilities so romance isn't necessarily at the top of him mind

He finally realizes he may or may not have giant crush on you when despite himself he finds himself missing your presence. He just wants to sit with you, talk to you, be near you, forever and ever and oh... he has a crush!

As soon as he realizes? He is trying to romance you.

"Flowers? For me?" You're honestly surprised when Curly hands you a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He's got his charming smile that could make anyone swoon, his eyes twinkling with something you can't quite place (love), and he holds up two tickets to a movie you've been dying to go see.

"I- Curly, what is this all about?" He lets out a low hum, leaning against your doorway, his arms crossed and an easy smile on his lips.

"Well I was thinking, if you wanted to, let's go on a date." It seems like it came out of nowhere, but he's been slowly trying to charm you since the moment he realized his feelings. Whether or not you decline is up to you, and Curly will respect your choice, but he oh-so-hopes that you'll join him for a dinner and movie.

He 100% makes his affections known when he has a crush on you. The favoritism is insane, and anyone who points it out will be met with Curly confirming his crush on you.

Of course if it makes you uncomfortable, Curly will take it down a notch, but if you seem to enjoy his affections and cute courting tactics then he'll definitely ramp it up.

Either way, Curly takes action when it comes to having a crush!

DAISUKE

Daisuke realizes he has a crush on you the second he develops one but he won't really saying anything about it.

He's very good at keeping it cool- his feelings only make him want to be an even better friend to you! Honestly, you can't really tell if he has a crush on you or not bc anything he does could be written off as being a good friend!

But there are a few indicators if you look hard enough: Daisuke puts a little extra effort into his appearance, he'll get a little frazzled if you compliment him, his touch will linger a little longer than normal, his playful flirting seeming a little more serious, etc.

Daisuke had messed around with his hair for almost an hour- it just wasn't falling the way he wanted it to, the way he knew you'd compliment him for, so he was stuck messing with it until it was perfect. When he finally glanced over at the time, dread filled his stomach. Good appearance or not, he was definitely late to your meet up!

The whole way to meeting you, he was fussing with his outfit, however in his eyes the stress was definitely worth it as he stepped his way over to where you were waiting. "Hey, sorry, I was-"

"Woah! Daisuke, why do you look so good? Now I feel like I should've dressed up more!" His eyes widened a little at your response, but then a soft smile graces his features and a warmth blossomed on his cheeks.

"No, you look perfect."

Daisuke's affections are so casual yet so romantic that he's definitely the type to make your other friends ask if you two are dating or not already.

Although he has no plans on actually acting on his crush yet, wanting to wait to ask you out until he's certain it's something you want to, he definitely does daydream about it and giggle to himself often.

Daisuke really likes having a crush, the way his heart races and he gets all giddy around you is super addictive to him.

SWANSEA

Dread. The moment Swansea realizes he's developing a crush on you he is filled with dread. He thinks crushes are childish and he can't believe he managed to get one.

Whenever he catches himself being too lenient or sweet with you, he'll immediately do a double take and accidentally be a little rude to you. It's very confusing for you.

Swansea is definitely an acts of service type of guy, so bet that if he has a crush on you that he'll be helping you with anything and everything.

"You did good." Swansea nodded, praising you for your work. You sent him a grin, which had his heart skipping a beat or two. He grunted, suddenly becoming too aware of everything- how his body is heating up, how sweet he was being, how close he was to you- everything.

"Uh, but you also fucked up this part- just lemme do it..." He grumbled as if he was annoyed... and he was, just not at you. He didn't miss the small frown that you gave him, which only made him feel worse. Damn it, why did you have to be so confusing to be around?!

"Don't... Ugh, don't be upset. You did good for your first time, okay?" He mumbled, and he didn't check to see if you heard him or not because either way- a smile or a frown- would have him spiraling.

His crush definitely isn't obvious to the untrained eye- in fact most people actually begin to think he hates you. Those who really pay attention though will catch on to his actions and suspect he likes you though.

Swansea definitely isn't blabbering about his crush either, he's keeping that shit under tight wraps until he's ready.

He'll eventually come to terms with his feelings, and when he does, it won't take him too much longer until he's ready to confess how he feels, but until then... stay strong.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[jcollinswrites]

What does Narmer whisper in Nefru's ear? I think i may have an inkling on what it is but i wanted to hear from you, if it's not too spoilery ofc.

Unfortunately, it is 🤐 But if you read what's out on patreon from Chapter 4, you might get an idea.

That entire scene from Narmer's point of view is already written in my extra file, and it also includes the beginning of the argument that the MC didn't see. I will not let you read that until AFTER you are already locked into Narmer's romance route though, maybe in Chapter 5 or something. And only people on Narmer's route will learn about it.

So, if you plan to romance him, then you'll just have to wait and see 🙂‍↕️ If you don't, then it will forever remain a mystery ✨

[midorikawawas]

The grace most people give to the other 5 prosecutors always seems lost whenever Nahyuta's mentioned and I can't see why.

I can't even accept the “He's poorly written” excuse anymore when he's one of the best parts of the entire game. Nahyuta's a man who's supposed to uphold religious and moral values for a whole nation in the middle of a cruel autocracy. He's being blackmailed by the leader of this regime with the safety and honor of his family, and as a child, he was separated from a brother. Everything he knows and loves is always pending by a thread that pushed him to turn into the lapdog of an evil queen, who's inspired by any 20th-century dictator you can think of.

His background as a rebel turned sell-out, and what crimes he did or did not commit as a prosecutor dealing with a warped version of the law and justice are enough to have us discussing for days, and so do many other things. Like, the way he uses religion to condemn others while he acts terribly, how he was pushed to do evil, if he did or didn't have any other choice, or if he can atone in some way. How does Nahyuta deal with this knowledge for the rest of his days? Because he's only 25 years old and never had the semblance of a “normal” life.

Canonly, Nahyuta's a prejudiced and holier-than-thou man who gave up on the idea of freedom for his country and himself, only if that could spare his sister from the hate and shame he endured for something he did not do. His severe and harsh behavior is stated to be the way he's protecting himself and the people around him from a greater evil HE vowed to serve.

All of this is in-game. Anyone who has played SoJ has seen this. It's textual. We all agree on these complexities of his character because he's all the things previously listed, but is also said by Apollo that Nahyuta had a gentle smile and was of a shy nature. We do know he's honestly devout and a man curious about the things the world beyond the Khura'in borders has to offer. The way all of this is presented may be flawed, but that is not how you make an excuse for a character being poorly written. All he did, his flaws, and the things we consider reprehensible, make sense for him as a character.

Yet some people think that Nahyuta having the word “putrid” in his vocabulary is a little too much to even sit down and understand him.

So yeah, I believe Nahyuta Sahdmadhi as a character deserves more thoughtful discernment.

[thefandomsfervent]

JayVik x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 24) - Raw Umber

Gala chapter coming soooon <3

Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

not that I'm losing steam with this fic, but it has inpsired so many other things that i want to write too. Would y'all want other fics? I have other fics. Not written but they're up there. floating in my mind. This fic may enter a hiatus after a few more chapters so I can start other projects. Stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3 These aren't beta read, didn't really edit this one. May fix it up later this upcoming week <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

You had shocked yourself saying you’d go, the heat of the moment and your own thoughts getting to you. Even more shocked when it seemed like Viktor had changed his mind on going a couple days after. A few days have passed since then.

Piltover lived for its socialite opportunities. Parties, dinners, galas, events, parades, and even luncheons were ever present in the calendar year. You were well aware of the expectations set for each occasion, and of how lacking your wardrobe was for it. Now you have around two weeks to find suitable attire. That itself wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t just placed a supply order. Whatever funds you may have had for a new dress or jewelry would be shipped in the form of oil paints and new brushes. You had dresses from gallery showings at the Institute, some old faithfuls hung in the back of your closet. “One of them would have to do.” With that you try to push all the wandering thoughts away.  

You take in the empty lab. Jayce was gone today, helping out with the forge. And it was still early enough in the day that Viktor was still recovering from whatever late night musings kept him up. No time to waste then. Despite it feeling like Spring had just started, Summer was looming above. And that meant that Autumn and Winter would follow suit. Your paints were drying fairly quickly in the heat but on humid rainy days it would set you back days, and the winter cold would mean that it may take a week for layers to dry. Today was a perfect day, the air was still and warm. Your washes of color didn’t take long at all to settle on the canvas. Purple, yellow, green, pink. Thin layers to color skin, thicker strokes of pale and tan flesh, blocking out arms and hands. Their faces were still unpainted, focusing on their hands and their clothes.

When it came time to finally realize their faces on the canvas, you wanted to make sure you’d be uninterrupted. You were considering even taking the whole painting back to your studio to work on it then. That would be then, and this was now. 

Right now you were in your element, breaking it all down into colors and shapes. Hands were easiest to deal with when you weren’t stuck on making them be hands, but connected shapes. Shapes can be shaded for depth, definition given with the context of what was around them. Long fingers were broken down into rectangles and rounded corners, diagonal angles and warm tones. Shifting between tinges of blue and green, purple and yellow. Red and Pink on knuckles, knuckles were just cut circles. The meat of a hand was an oval, a trapezoid, barely there veins were carefully lined to curve into wrists. Shapes and colors could be attributed to many things. To create form. An image. To build something from the ground up whether that was two or three-dimensional. And it could show temperature. States of matter. Emotion. 

Warmth was soft, it could be an orange glow from a candle flame, it could be the plush lining of a jacket. It could be the way hands held their tools, held each other. It could be shown in the richness of all hues of the Academy outfits that needed detailing next. Trading a flat wash brush for a thin liner, switching gears to focus on the details of shirt cuffs. 

“Wow.” You jump, the paintbrush dropping to the ground with a clatter. It rolls away from your station and you turn to follow its trail. When it stops at a pair of black boots your eyes shift to the source of your startling. A familiar face and that gap toothed grin greeting you with a small wave.  

“Oh gods, Jayce” You turn back to the painting. You’d gotten one hand done for each of them, where they were in a neutral light between the night and day sides of the work. 

“You’re easy to scare. Have you ever noticed that?” He says it with a laugh, he sounds tired. His steps are slow and heavy behind you. 

“Maybe I’m too busy getting scared to see the pattern.” The words come out in a huff, but you smile in thanks when he hands you the paintbrush over your shoulder. Now that you’ve settled you’re able to focus. Oh, well now your heart was beating too fast for an entirely different reason. You’d seen him come back before, sweaty brow and his clothes covered in soot. But this was… different. “I thought you were working at the Forge today?” The paintbrush in your hand gestures to his attire, and lack thereof. 

Same black boots being the only familiar attire to you. Brown pants that were similar to the Academy uniform. A brace-like toolbelt hugging his waist tightly. And then, nothing. No shirt. Just soot-splotches on skin and those elbow high gloves. His hair is tousled in a way you haven’t seen before, sticky to his forehead. You weren’t sure how far the forge was, but you were wondering how far he had to walk to get here. Run even, if he was as tired as you thought. 

“I was! But then I had an idea for Hextech and-” His eyes look around the lab. “Viktor isn’t in yet?” You don’t miss the slump in his shoulders, despite how small it was. A shake of the head is all you can give him, trying to catch your words, and make your eyes stay on his face. Having drawn him for as long as you had, you knew his proportions were insane. But this was just rude. The difference between his shoulders and his waist, especially with that belt on, was insane. You could probably pass off any lingering stares with that excuse. If it weren’t for the blush that you felt warming your cheeks. 

“You wouldn’t want to lose track of it. He’ll be here eventually.” You try to keep your voice even while gesturing to the chalkboard behind them, Viktor had cleared it sometime last night after copying down notes. A whole space for Jayce to work on. He smiles before clapping a gloved hand on your shoulder. It was heavier than usual, the insulated leather a thick press. The smell of oil and charcoal was not foreign to you, but they looked different here. Smelt different on him. He’s already going to the board, taking the gloves off to reveal a stark line of dirt and skin. 

“This cannot be fair.” A reward and a punishment dangling in front of you. Self indulgent stares at his broad back or returning to the bliss of full force work. Jayce seemed to be doing the latter, books propped open on the ledge for reference. The soft scraping of chalk on the board and excited mutterings, circles and lines, runes and words, arrows and numbers. In the span of maybe 10 minutes he had filled half the board with words you couldn’t quite decipher. As he reached across to scribble his theories the skin of his back was pulled taut, the muscles there were defined. Visible. A part of you wonders how they would feel under your fingertips, the movement and the power. Another part of you wishes you were bold enough to ask to draw him. Not that you couldn’t now, but for a real figure study. His physique was an anatomical study dream. 

Enough ogling. Jayce was working, deeply and with vigor. You should be doing the same. The cuffs needed some detailing, even if it was not nearly as entertaining. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Admittedly, Jayce did want to go to the gala. There were many days that he wanted to be at the lab or the forge or his bed more than anything else, but when you first came here Heimerdinger mentioned something that Jayce couldn’t let go. “You boys will be doing more dinners and speeches and galas and the like. It comes with the territory.” Anxiety was a feeling he wasn’t unfamiliar with. The thought of having to watch every interaction he makes? Every decision? It filled him with dread. This may be one of the last times he and Viktor could go out, and now as a couple, without too many prying eyes. The idea only became more enticing when you said that you’d like to go. Imagining you in some delicious draping gown, or would you prefer a tighter dress that revealed your thighs and arms? The sight of you and Viktor both in finery that daily wear didn’t require might make his heart beat out of his chest. An energy he would gladly redirect to more physical work. 

There was something about the Forge that relaxed him. A completely different process from the equations of the lab. Helping out in the Forge was easy because the team there knew he was skilled enough to handle almost anything that they could throw at him. It was especially helpful during Holiday seasons. Things were slow at the Academy and he would grow restless with nothing to do. Making gifts and construction orders was an easy way to stay busy. Today Jayce started out on a bulk order, early enough in the day that there weren’t many people there. It quickly devolved into new prototypes for the lab, and that turned into thinking about the lab. About Hextech. In his own station there was no paper to write down on. He was able to stave off some of the racing thoughts by stealing the back of old order papers, but eventually there was no more room in the margins. And before he knew it he was running across Piltover desperate to cling onto the ideas in his head before he lost them. 

Practically bursting into the lab, eyes wide, holding on to several quickly loosening mental threads. The chalkboard was empty. Good! Great! An empty base, more movement, no need to turn pages that filled too quickly and then having to flip back for references. In the lab there was also you, working on your painting. The morning light filtering through the window, you were hunched in a position that could not be comfortable. He walks closer. Eyes laser-focused onto the canvas in front of you, hand slowly moving across the hands you were bringing to life. You looked intense and gentle, a soft smile on your lips. Humming some tune he didn’t recognize. He didn’t mean to speak, but the moment was so unique. Often there was not an opportunity to admire you without your noticing, without flustering you. 

Suddenly you whorl around, your paintbrush on the ground. All the stillness is catching up to Jayce, he’s tired. Having pushed himself at the Forge, pushed himself to run, and now? Now he needed to work. Viktor may not be there to bounce ideas off of but he could work without his partner for now. Still, he catches your eyes and blush. He is no stranger to being stared at. It fluffs up his ego for a minute, and if he wasn’t so ready to get to work he would have gladly pushed the moment. Seen if he could get you to admit what you were looking at. If you were looking for anything. Now is not the time for distractions, as delicious as they may be. 

Jayce moves his attention to the board.

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

--.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 23.-Next Part will be linked here.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .--

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[wizardlover124]

dirk the character

dirk's core motivations come from being inadequate. on one hand it's because he's not enough his friends-- he's too neurotic, he's too emotional, but he loves them to death (as he literally says about roxy) and would give anything for them to enjoy talking to him. on the other hand—and this is what this meta will mostly focus on—he's inadequate compared to his older bro (alpha dave). to dirk, alpha dave cannot be a real person-- he's more akin to a fictional character, a completed NARRATIVE. alpha dave made a space for himself in the world-- he was massively successful, had fans, and orchestrated massive plots to fight the condesce all while carving his own creative niche in the world. most importantly, he was the only source of guidance as to "what to be" dirk had.

by definition dirk cannot access any flaws a!dave might have had, because he didn't-- in a well-written story, any flaw is only part of the "character," and it's not like dirk ever really knew a!dave anyway. i think he adopted this mindset for himself and too began viewing his entire life as a story, in which he's a character and not a person. partially because it literally is— alpha dave prepared this apartment for dirk because dirk was destined for something greater, e.g. sburb, and dirk spent sixteen years waiting for his own story to begin. but there's one critical problem here. dirk cannot be enough compared to alpha dave. alpha dave is an IDEAL dirk constantly measures himself up to and at every turn fails-- suddenly, when he's trying to place himself in the hero role he thinks a!dave had, nothing he does is adequate. even normal human flaws become akin to sin. his interactions with his friends just remind him of that-- he can't live up to roxy's desire, he can't seem to get jake to love him, and this complicates things with jane too. he doesn't think he'll be enough—not for his friends, and not for the story that lays ahead of him.

his solution is to turn to the machine. he creates the autoresponder, thinking that is the most "ideal" version of himself—the character that he's been waiting for—and has it talk to his friends instead. but this doesn't work either. if hal is the perfect version of himself, then what use does dirk have in the world? plus, he's completely fucking insufferable-- does that mean dirk is, even at his best, awful? if hal ISN'T the perfect version of himself, that means that dirk's best solution-- the one he's been trying at since he realized this flaw--the machine fails.

dirk spends the rest of sburb, at least i like to think, unlearning some of these ideas. he meets dave in person. he has long conversations with his friends (also in person!) who he . he spends time deconstructing himself as a character and as a person instead.

which brings the real point of this essay: ultimate dirk.

postcanon dirk, who did ALL THAT, learns that actually he was CORRECT— there's been an audience watching him and all his failures this entire time—he IS a character, and so far he's been almost utterly meaningless. he doesn't fight the condesce. he gets decapitated thrice. he fails to save the game over timeline. the one thing he tangibly does, unite synchronization, is barely done by him (arguably hal). this realization undoes every piece of character growth that may or may not have happened. and now his timeline is thrust into irrelevance, precisely because this audience no longer cares about postcanon. so he takes up the role he thinks he was always meant to—he becomes a character. and because he's failed his entire life in becoming the hero, he opts to become a villain—the way he knows that beta dirk, his "previous" version, was to dave—and puts dave in the hero position alpha dave was in before.

dirk is the worst version of himself when he, instead of actually TALKING to the people he's around, holes up into himself and interprets everything through his own narrative. this habit which he had to unlearn is both literally and meta-textually the fucking epilogues. which is also a creative work that he's trying to carve his own space in the world through. the epilogues are dirk's sbahj. dave's story is about leaving beta dirk's shadow, and dirk's story is about imitating alpha dave—still his only point of reference—still dirk's most coveted narrative. this is where his obsession with narrative and relevancy comes from and this is what fundamentally makes ult dirk compelling as a character to me!! anyway how are we doing

[merbear25]

can you write a small drabble for aokiji with a f! reader? maybe something relating to his love for women with big bazoongas and reader is rather... well endowed... (SORRY IF THIS IS A LITTLE ODD)

It's not odd at all! I hope you like what I've written for you! 💜💜

You were oblivious to your secret admirer. His longing gaze took its time breaking through that haze you were in. With an instant connection forming, you went against your better judgement to see how brightly these embers could burn. You were left wondering why it’d taken you so long to notice him.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, perversion, breast fondling and sucking, a bit of body worship, teasing, reader is a part of Blackbeard’s crew

Much needed attention (Aokiji)

Couldn’t there have been a different alignment of the stars you’d found yourselves under? Meeting under these circumstances was far from favorable, and yet here you were on board the same deck as him, both contributing to Blackbeard’s greed.

You were a captivating creature; there was no denying that. His eyes found you long before you even noticed him. Not giving him the time of day at the beginning, he chalked it up to you drowning in your workload. That wouldn’t do, though. An alluring woman such as yourself should be given only the greatest pleasures in life. 

His eyes lingered on your chest. Even from afar, the gentle rises and falls were evident from the subtle shake of your breasts. Despite your attention being directed elsewhere, a shiver ran down your spine, averting it away from your task. Your eyes scanned the area for only a moment before they laid on Aokiji. They fixated on him, combing over his laid back demeanor. He propped his head up on his hand and gave you a half smile.

Having only noticed him for the first time and he already got you blushing. Your flustered mind was flooded with thoughts of him; questions of who he was, how long he’d been there, and where he came from raced laps on your now one track mind. You were so caught up in these newfound emotions that you were unaware of his approaching footsteps.

He leaned down, keeping enough distance to better judge your reaction to him. “You’re a very beautiful woman.”

The compliment took you off guard. The heat on your cheeks spread to the entirety of your face. “You can’t just be forward like that!” Your attempt to speak in a hushed voice was in vain.

He paused for a moment as if deeply considering your frantic words. “Why not? It’s just a fact. You’re beautiful and—”

“Shhh! Stop blurting that out!” Heart beating fast, the heat on your face burning, stumbling over your words: you couldn’t remember the last time anyone made you feel like this—out of control.

Snickering crept up from behind you, making the situation you were naive to ignore become reality. The sinking in your chest made those delicate movements more prominent. Without meaning to, you were making yourself out to be that much more ravishing. The temptation to be the one to comfort and soothe you was nearly too much to bear.

“You don’t need to listen to them.” Offering his hand, his whisper wrapped those warm words tightly around you. Taking his hand, you followed him to a more private area where you could explore these sparks flaring between you.

In closer proximity, you got a better look at the details on his body. Even under his layers, there was no mistaking the muscle underneath.

“Do you want to touch me?” 

Despite his nonchalant tone being something to get used to, you nodded in response. Resting your hands upon the fabric, your fingers memorized the feel of it. He reached up to undo his shirt, while his eyes never left your expression. There was a clear arousal in it, no matter how much you may have tried to deny.

Hesitantly at first, your touch soon roamed his chest with a deep hunger that hadn’t been satisfied for a long time. The need in your expression was obvious, practically begging him to reach out and touch you. When he cupped your breasts, a shaky breath came out of both of you in unison. Even while in his sizable hands, your breasts managed to dwarf them. Their softness, the sweet sounds you made when he played with them, the feeling of your nipples hardening from increasing arousal: you truly were a sight to behold.

Soft kisses found your neck. Gasps and moans passed your lips as he traveled further down your body. Kneading your breasts more roughly, he managed to squeeze out a few needy pleas. He buried his face between your breasts, carefully rubbing your erect nipples between his fingers as he bounced them against his face. Your hips began moving back and forth slowly, tempting him to go further with you. A low groan vibrated against your chest before letting you see the burning desire in his eyes.

Leaving a trail of heat in their wake, his lips finally found their way to one of your nipples. A firm suck on it was promptly followed by a lathering tongue—flicking at it to coax out each delightful moan you could muster. The hunger within you was growing ravenous, but his was just as famished. 

Pulling you closer, he firmly held you in place as if expecting a specific reaction out of you. His other hand slid up your skirt and was greeted by the arousal pooling in your panties. Breathless moans bathed your bear chest as his fingers ran over your clothed slickness.

The soaked fabric twisting around his fingers left the friction against your clit that much more unbearable. There was no stopping the cascade of blissful moans and whimpers. You rutted against him, desperate for him to be the one to commit to breaking your dry spell. Each deliberate motion from him played your body more skillfully than he could have ever imagined. Plucking the strings to the fine instrument of your ecstasy threw you into an ascending melody of euphoria.

A cooling sensation tickled your breasts the more you moved in his arms. Pinning you against him, that hot wet tongue of his was now leaving a slight chill against your sensitive skin. Your pants grew needier and your gasps turned into grunts as your senses were under attack in the more erotic way you could have dreamed of.

With just a few more tactful brushes between your sensitive folds, you cried out for him while he pushed you through your climax. The pool between your thighs was coating his hand, tethering him to you with a thin elastic string. He caressed your hips tenderly, and while his lips trailed back up to your neck, they showered your breasts with the affection they were just left absent of.

Calls from up deck indicated the arrival to shore. Being pulled away from this intimate moment was done forcefully, although you knew that it wouldn’t be long before you’d be able to sneak away to finish what you had started.

[chaoticcatbehaviour]

Nero's Imperial Household HCS

⚠️ Anything about the Gods that are written about here refers specifically to the RRverse. I am in no way talking about the actual deities themselves.

• Son of Hermes

- I'm calling him Dolios for now because it's an epithet of Hermes and it makes it easier to remember him.

- Son of Hermes, either one of the athletic epithets or the Psychopomp epithets.

- About 18 years old? Honestly what even was the age limit of Nero's stepchildren?

- Ok so I'm still confused as to what his powers would be but I'm leaning into the psychopomp side of Hermes. Although I'm also leaning on him being stronger than the average person because there's no way Nero didn't teach his step children to defend themselves without using their powers (Also Hermes is the god of Athletes sooo)

- I headcanon the Hermes kid as the oldest, partially because I don't know who else to make the oldest stepchild of Nero, and partly because I have a feeling that Nero would make the "calmer" cabins (AKA Cabin 11 and Cabin 7) really really feral just so he can showcase his strength in a "Hey I made the kids from the calmer cabins really feral HAHA IMAGINE WHAT I CAN DO" kind of way and also because he's an asshole and can't let kids be kids. Also because Nero's a furry.

• Nero definitely gave all of his stepchildren jewellery that represented their godly parent btw. I headcanon Dolios to have something like this.

Because why not? (And no this is not an excuse to show literally every piece of jewellery I have saved in my pinterest board) Meg has half-moon shaped rings that turn to scimitars but I have no idea what weapon these earrings would turn to so if y'all have any ideas tell me!!

• Lucius

- Nero really wanted the entire world to know who his step childrens' godly parent was huh 😭 Anyways onto his character!

- Son of Apollo, specifically Apollo Nomios.

- 16 to 17 years old (probably).

- LISTEN. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT THERE AREN'T CHILDREN OF APOLLO WHO HAVE SHEPHERDS AS THEIR MORTAL PARENT. HOW DARE RICK FORGET ABOUT BRANCHUS MY BABY. Anyways in my head Lucius's mortal father was a shepherd which is how he attracted Apollo. Again, I'm not sure what powers he would have but he definitely knows how to fight (because like I said, there's no way Nero didn't teach his stepchildren to defend themselves without using their powers). Also he can talk to ravens. And crows. And sheep. Because how come Percy is the only one that can talk to his father's sacred animals? That's unfair!

- I'm pretty sure he is one of the oldest demigods in Nero's Imperial Household? In my mind he's the second oldest out of them all.

• His jewellery is probably something like this bracelet.

It turns into a Gladiator btw. Not sure how that works but then again we have no idea how Meg's rings work either so yeah.

Also a bow and arrow seemed way too basic to me. Like may the Gods forbid that their children use anything other than the ones their godly parents use.

• Aemilia

- At first I got really confused over what godly parent she could have but then I searched up the meaning of her name and.... yeah.

- Daughter of Athena, not sure which epithet tho.

- Same age as Lucius, about 17 years old.

- Oh gods I know damn well that Nero made this girl suffer. Like you already have people having high expectations about Athena kids and then your step parent is NERO. Like this girl was probably given some big ass sum to solve at the age of 7 or something ( WISDOM IS NOT THE SAME AS KNOWLEDGE NERO). Oh my poor little girl. We know next to nothing about her but I'm gonna make her and Lucius my pookies.

- Either the third oldest stepchild in Nero's Imperial Household or the same age as Lucius.

- Not sure what jewellery Nero would give her tho. An owl necklace? Something that looks like this?

What weapon could this even turn into? A shield maybe? Y'know the thing with Medusa? (RR messed up her myth so bad in PJO that now I'm confused as to whether it's following the Greek or Roman myth).

• Hunter of Artemis

- I have absolutely no hcs about her whatsoever because I'm still confused as to who her godly parent could be. Like we know that Meg is supposed to replace Demeter which means that his other stepchildren are also mostly the children of the god they're supposed to replace.

- Still, I'm gonna have to make her a daughter of Diomedes and an ex hunter of Artemis otherwise I don't know how it'll work. I'm not sure about her name either.

- Younger than Aemilia and Lucius by a year or two, so that makes her 15 to 16 years old.

- She and Lucius are probably always paired together since Artemis & Apollo are twins. I'm not sure what power I want to give her so I'd love to know what you guys want her powers to be!

- Third oldest stepchild of Nero.

- Her jewellery turns into a bow and arrow because that's usually the weapon that the Hunters of Artemis use. I HC it to look something like these two.

How would this turn into a bow and arrow you ask? I have no idea!

These are only for the four oldest demigods, if you guys want I'll make one for the others too! (I've basically divided it into 3 parts, there are 4 children in each group and the groups are -Oldest, Middle and Youngest, the same way Apollo divided them)

Tagging- @actual-gremlin @arihuntress @humburgercheeseburger @sahebro-apollosangel @lesbianbanana @whats-a-lester @please-be-nice-im-sensitive me if any of you want me to remove you next time!

, ╱|、

(˚ˎ 。7

|、˜〵

じしˍ,)ノ

I'd really appreciate it if y'all actually read it tho....

Please don't let this flop I beg you pls

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 24!!!

Guess who finally had the time and spoons to write?? ME. I DID.

I promise I'll update as much as I can, but finding time to sit down and write for fun is hard in grad school, folks. It's also on my To Do List to put this whole thing on AO3. Most importantly, I wand you to know that I love this story too much to abandon it.

Okay, that being said, let's do this.

Beginning || Previous || Next

********************************

Metatron had drawn a number of conclusions while studying the developments in the Book of Life. First of all, he gathered that the book was a ways behind on the transpiring events – given that it had some catching up to do, it seemed. Second, the longer the human remained, the more permanent the new story in the book became. The white tape in the first few pages now being impossible to scratch away, while the alterations were still possible in the pages currently being written. The third, and most important development was the one that had brought him, once again, to Earth. This time, however, he found himself staring at the tall shelves of an institution known as Waterstones.

Although it was much less of a mess than Aziraphale’s bookshop, it was just as crowded. He held back a sigh. Something about this planet seemed to have every being desperate to collect as many blasted things as possible. Movement in his periphery drew his attention, and he saw that a shop employee had appeared to his left, looking confused. Of course the young man was confused, it wasn’t British behaviour to approach customers to ask if they needed help. But when you happen to be The Metatron, things (and people) seemed to anticipate your needs. Indeed, he reflected, The Lord Provides.

“Can I help you find something?” The employee asked. He shifted as he stood, clearly uncomfortable with the interaction.

“Ah, yes,” Metatron replied, “I am, as a matter of fact, looking for a book, and it would seem that I need some assistance in finding it. Might you be able to tell me where I may find a book called...Good Omens?”

“Oh, yeah,” the young man said, “It’s in the Fantasy section, right this way.”

“Fantasy?” Metatron mused, following the employee through the shop to the shelf in question, “How quaint.”

The employee raised an eyebrow as he handed Metatron a copy of the novel. Metatron took it, and flipped through the pages, an amused smile spreading across his face.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” The employee asked uncertainly. He was clearly hoping for the interaction to be over with as soon as possible. Metatron raised an eyebrow, quietly surprised the young man was still there.

“No, thank you,” He said, “I believe I have all that I need.”

He left the shop without paying. No alarms went off, and no one noticed.

*****************************

You may be hyped up on adrenaline right now and a hair’s breadth from screaming just to release some of the pent-up energy running wild through your brain, but Jeremy – the entitled, rich, teenage son-of-God-re-incarnate – is cornered. Anathema and Sardis have cut off his retreat, you and Aziraphale have his front and side options covered, and Crowley stands towering above him.

“Well, well, well,” Crowley drawls with a devilish grin, “It’s been a while, now, hasn’t it?”

You see Jeremy stumble back, watch his eyes flick to the three of you in front of him, then to the side as he realizes there are more people behind him. Thank goodness you spent all that time starting at gifs of Micheal “Acting Choices” Sheen, because you’re able to see the calculating look that flickers behind his gaze. He’s assessing his options. It takes all of a second before he straightens up, folds his arms, and cocks his head to the side.

“How much?” he asks. Clearly, this is not the response that Crowley’s expecting, because you can see the demon’s face scrunch. He exhales loudly.

“Oh well, gotta be at least,” Crowley glances back to Aziraphale with a shrug “At least...what would you say...’bout...two thousand years, give or take...” Aziraphale shrugs back, and Crowley returns his attention to the teen. Anathema smacks her forehead with her hand.

“What??” Jeremy asks. He’s looking at Crowley and Aziraphale like they came from outer space. Well, he wouldn’t technically be wrong. “I meant money, dumbass.”

“Whoa,” You say, “Uncalled for, kid.”

Well, you all did just chase a child through alleyways and commit at least three traffic violations in the process so….okay, maybe the kid deserves one. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“You chased and cornered a child,” Jeremy replies, arms still crossed, “I could call the police and all of you would be arrested on the spot.”

Dammit, he’s smart.

“Look,” Crowley starts, “We just need you to come with us.”

“Yeah...” Jeremy drawls, “I don’t think so.”

“Listen here!” Crowley’s voice is getting louder. He’s not shouting just yet, but he’s on the verge of it. Jeremy sees an opening.

“What? Are you gonna make me?” The teen is almost laughing. He’s not trying too hard to hold back his giggles as Crowley’s face grows red with anger. Aziraphale takes a step forward, placing a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. It keeps him cool – barely.

“We need you to come with us because we need your help saving the world,” Aziraphale says calmly.

Oh no, he thinks he can be reasonable with a rich, entitled, teenager. Now the kid actually starts laughing.

“Wow,” You say, looking at Crowley and Aziraphale, “You two are really bad at this.”

“You are welcome to try if you like,” Aziraphale says through gritted teeth. Oh crap. Well, you walked right into that one. You clear your throat – may as well give it a shot.

“Listen, kid,” You say. Jeremy forces his laughing into submission and looks at you like he’s waiting for the punchline to a joke. “For real, these two here are magical beings okay?”

“Pffffff, right. So am I. It’s called Being Rich.”

“No, but they can do miracles. Like actual miracles!”

“Yeah, me too. It’s called Being Rich.”

Okay, so it turns out you're not any better at this than Crowley and Aziraphale are.

Not that you thought this was going to be easy, but you realize that this is still going to be a LOT harder than you thought. And you really don’t think time is on your side.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

I'm gonna set the poll duration to 3 days this time. Give people a chance to see that I've updated (and remember I exist ^_^" )

Beginning || Previous || Next

[eonni92]

I’ve never had a story gifted to me, and I am blown away by your thoughtfulness. This was everything I could have wished for and more. So so beautiful ❤️

If I have any talent at all in video editing, you far succeed me when it comes to the written word something I have very little skill with.

I was literally vibrating in my seat while reading this!

“According to the law, I am not family.”

A thunk beside Jihoon makes him jump, and he looks over to see the back of Hyeok’s head hitting the wall as Hyeok stares balefully at the ceiling, chuckling bitterly.

“And neither am I.”

Sobbing for these two men that want nothing more than to see their loved one and being denied because of ridiculous harmful legalities.

Hyeok has long considered Joowon family, but his inner turmoil over whether Joowon considers him family - Is he overstepping? Does Joowon even want him here? - to realizing Joowon was protecting him the whole time, was beautiful agony to read 🥹 and of course Hyeok is willing to fight tooth and nail to give his baby brother anything he wants.

JOOWON’S LUNATIC

This is canon to me now. Hyeok has Lee Dongsik saved in his phone as this forever and ever. Long after they’re married.

The undignified squeal I let out when I realized Han Joowon was talking to Park Jeongje was for real. I have a huge soft spot for my deer drawing man. Han Joowon and Park Jeongje have so much in common and yet not. Han Joowon and Park Jeongje both raised by abusive parents. Both feel so much guilt (even if Dongsik tries to absolve Joowon). I love seeing the compassion Joowon has for Jeongje.

“You’re not his guest. You’re mine, Park Jeongje-ssi.”

Does he look at Park Jeongje and see himself if he had made different choices?

Jaeyi as Joowon’s emergency contact BUT THE WHY OF IT ALL

And can we talk about the concert tickets for Kang Minjeong’s birthday because I can’t 😭

“It’s not a competition of who loves the other more, you know.”

“I certainly don’t want to lose.”

May Han Joowon never loose his competitive spirit!

From his position lying prone on the hospital bed, Joowon lets out a snort. “That man has ostentatious tastes. He’d do well to humble himself and expand his horizons.”

Oh Joowon… my baby… how far you have come

I could go on and on, but this already has too many words for my inarticulate self lol. I can only thank you with this poorly written but sincere response to this beautiful gift!

THANK YOU SO MUCH ❤️

“Noona!”

The sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor fills the eerily quiet corridor of the hospital as Jihoon skids to a halt in front of his sister.

He takes one look at the somber faces looking up at him, and immediately feels his body break out in a cold sweat as his stomach plummets. “Noona…?”

He hears how his own voice sounds small and shaky—not unlike the time when he was just a kid and he had just found out that he would be living with his big sister now as his legal guardian.

“He’s currently undergoing surgery,” Jihwa answers Jihoon’s unspoken question as she runs a hand distractedly through her hair, and Jihoon’s heart twists at how exhausted his sister sounds, not unlike all those nights she’d come home late from pulling double shifts to support them both because their mother had a new family.

The relief that instantly courses through Jihoon makes his body sag weakly as he falls onto the nearest seat, followed by the immediate dread that they’re not out of the woods just yet. “What happened?”

“Car accident,” Hyeok speaks up from beside him, and Jihoon can’t help but marvel at how calm the prosecutor sounds. Lawyers’ nerves must be made of steel, Jihoon muses.

He furrows his brows as the words sink in. “But…” Jihoon says slowly, “he always drives safely.”

“Yes. He does.” This time, Jihoon can detect the grim bitterness of Hyeok’s tone. “He wasn’t the problem.”

The seat across the hallway creaks as Jihwa flops down on it with a heavy sigh. “Drunk truck driver beating the red light crashed onto him at a crossroad. The other driver is also currently undergoing surgery at another operating room, and Dosoo-ya is conferring with the medical team there regarding the DUI case.”

“DUI…”

Jihoon trails off as his gaze finally lands on the lone man slumped over at the other end of the corridor. The fluorescent light directly above is flickering, casting the despondent figure in shadow.

“Dongsik-hyung…” Jihoon trembles. “Why are you here?”

He feels both Hyeok’s and Jihwa’s gazes turn to him in silent, outraged disbelief, and Jihoon swifty shakes his head.

“Why are you here—” Jihoon whispers as he gestures at the bleak corridor they’re all stuck in, “—and not in there with Joowon-hyung?”

He feels a hand on his knee, and his gaze snaps to his sister, who has reached across the hallway to touch him tenderly.

“Inspector Han is in critical care,” Jihwa tells him softly. “Strictly family only.”

Jihoon opens his mouth.

“And to answer your question, Jihoon-ah…”

The words die on Jihoon’s lips as Dongsik finally raises his head to meet Jihoon’s eyes.

Dongsik has never looked so—lifeless, like this.

Not since Yuyeon was finally cremated.

“According to the law, I am not family.”

A thunk beside Jihoon makes him jump, and he looks over to see the back of Hyeok’s head hitting the wall as Hyeok stares balefully at the ceiling, chuckling bitterly.

“And neither am I.”

—

The beeping pattern that has lulled her into a fitful sleep suddenly changes, and the sound breaks through the haze of her semi-consciousness.

Blearily, Jaeyi uncurls herself from the tiny sofa bed to peer at the monitors—and then at the patient to whom all of it is attached.

The drowsiness instantly disappears. “Inspector Han!” she gasps as she throws away the blanket draped over her legs and sways a bit on her feet from the dizziness of standing up too quickly. “You’re awake!”

Her instinct to go to him is immediately overridden by the memory of the nurses’ strict reminder to contact them as soon as the patient regains consciousness, and Jaeyi quickly reaches for the call button.

The fingers that curl around her wrist are weak, but insistent.

“Wait,” Joowon rasps, voice hoarse from being previously intubated during surgery. “Not yet.”

The herculean effort to speak seems to already drain so much out of Joowon that it makes Jaeyi relent. Instead, she pulls out a chair to sit close by his bedside. “How are you feeling?” she gently inquires, trying her best to mask her worry.

Joowon lolls his head to the side to look at her with a swollen face full of bruises and stitches, and manages to offer a small smile. “Like I was just crushed by a giant truck.”

Jaeyi smiles back tremblingly despite herself. “Your doctors don’t have to worry about psychological damage to your brain, considering your sense of humor remains the same.”

“Hilarious?”

“Non-existent.”

A soft gust of breath escapes Joowon’s lips before the laughter is quickly smothered by a grimace of pain. Jaeyi bites her lip anxiously. “Should I be calling the nurses now?”

“No,” Joowon repeats firmly, and Jaeyi is a little taken aback at how vehement he sounds. Joowon must have registered her surprise because he then quietly, shamefully confesses: “I don’t like being around medical professionals.”

Jaeyi’s eyebrows rise dubiously, but she holds her tongue, respectfully—smartly—waiting.

Eventually, Joowon takes a deep breath and, as if the admission pains him, closes his eyes as he explains:

“They were often at our house when I was a child. Their presence meant my mother has once again attempted to kill herself.”

Jaeyi doesn’t know if Joowon is keeping his eyes firmly shut for his benefit, or for hers. Either way, she is immensely grateful for it, because Joowon doesn’t need to see the cold waves of shock, rage, shared grief and unwanted pity that slams over her in quick succession, the vicious intensity knocking the breath out of her lungs.

Right now, Joowon needs her to be strong—so she will be.

“Would you like me to call someone else then?” she instead gently suggests. “Prosecutor Kwon has been waiting to hear from you.”

She pauses, letting the weight of her next words hold meaning as she softly adds: “And so is ahjussi.”

Joowon’s eyes flutter open.

And it takes Jaeyi’s breath away, the way Joowon’s entire countenance changes. His features soften, brows crinkling with concern, as he once again turns to her and worriedly asks:

“Has he eaten?”

And it says so much about how far Joowon has come in opening up his heart, because he now completely understands—and fluently speaks—the love language of Lee Dongsik.

She swallows against the lump that suddenly forms in her throat—and lies.

“Yes.”

—

“Ahjussi...”

“Jaeyi-ya? Why are you crying?”

“Ahjussi… I’m on my way to the hospital right now… please… you have to come…”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“It’s—It’s Inspector Han.”

“… What? You—how—”

“I don’t know why, ahjussi, and I found out just now when the hospital called my number unexpectedly, but—Inspector Han listed me as his emergency contact.”

—

Not for the first time, Hyeok wonders how he somehow always finds himself sharing a table with all of these strange people.

It hasn’t been that long ago when they were all mere strangers to him—just another list of names in his ever-growing pile of case files.

Now, however…

Jaeyi arrives with a tray laden with so much food that it makes Hyeok’s eyes widen at how heavy it all looks. He scrambles to his feet and tries to help, but Jaeyi merely shoos him away, leaving him standing there awkwardly as she begins doling out the soup bowls.

“I can’t keep lying to Inspector Han,” Jaeyi proclaims resolutely, “so you all better eat.”

Dosoo peers at the huge serving bowl Jaeyi is ladling from. “Your budae jjigae looks much more appetizing than this, Jaeyi-ah.” He wrinkles his nose. “Smells much better too.”

“And no doubt tastes better too,” Jaeyi smoothly adds, which makes everyone at the table crack a smile for the first time in a long while. “But this is all the hospital cafeteria has to offer, and we have to eat this in honor of Inspector Han.”

Hyeok blinks. In honor of—

“It’s Joowon-hyung’s favorite,” Jihoon says softly when he sees Hyeok’s visible confusion. His voice is a little warbled, his eyes still red and puffy, shoulders trembling as he tries to stifle his silent sobs.

Tightly cradled in Jihoon’s hands is a letter envelope he’s clutching preciously close to his heart.

The sound of stainless steel scraping over wood pulls Hyeok’s attention, and he finds himself staring at a bowl of steaming budae jjigae that has been pushed towards him.

He looks up—and Dongsik smiles warmly at him.

“Eat, Prosecutor Kwon. Joowon-ie would have all of our heads if he finds out we’ve been starving you.”

No, he wouldn’t. He never used to care about whether or not I eat.

The bitter thought comes to him unbidden, and the sting of it makes his throat tighten.

He slowly returns to his seat as everyone at the table digs in, hunger finally overtaking worry and fatigue as the need to replenish their energy makes itself known if they are to continue their vigil.

It’s going to be a long night ahead for all of them.

Hyeok stares at the bowl in front of him as he cycles through his haphazard thoughts, desperately trying to reconcile what everyone else is telling him with what he knows.

Han Joowon hates any food with broth. He hates Korean food. He hates anything that has to do with Korea, because he has always hated coming back here.

Because all of it reminded him of his father.

When did all of that change? Do I even know him at this point?

Who even am I to Han Joowon?

“Don’t take it against him.”

Hyeok nearly leaps out of his skin—since when does Lee Dongsik have the power to read minds?

There’s a knowing glint in the other man’s eyes as Dongsik smirks at him.  “And don’t take it against her either,” Dongsik adds as he juts his chin towards Jaeyi, who looks startled at being singled out. “You know why Joowon-ie couldn’t have made you his emergency contact, Prosecutor Kwon.”

No, he thinks sourly, I don’t.

The table falls silent as Dongsik continues to slurp and chew with gusto, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. Unable to take it anymore, Jihwa lets out an exasperated sigh and Dongsik jumps beside her.

Hyeok’s mouth quirks despite himself; Jihwa appears to have kicked Dongsik under the table.

“What?” Dongsik grumbles as Jihwa tilts her head meaningfully towards Hyeok. “He knows he once worked for Han Kihwan, that’s why Joowon-ie is publicly distancing himself from Prosecutor Kwon.”

Chills run down Hyeok’s spine. Whatever he’s been expecting, it isn’t this.

Slapping him across the face would have hurt far less.

“Ahjussi,” Jaeyi says softly. “You should word that better.”

Dongsik looks up from his bowl and finally realizes all eyes are on him. He swallows the mouthful he’s been chewing and eventually fixates his gaze on Hyeok.

Beneath the table, Hyeok’s tightly balled fists are shaking.

Dongsik puts his chopsticks down.

“Emergency contact records are private data that can only be accessed in crises situations by healthcare providers or by authorized representatives. And that includes family.”

Dongsik pauses to let the weight of his next words sink in.

“Han Joowon’s actual family.”

Dongsik spits the word out like vile poison—and the realization slams upon Hyeok.

“The public records of you consistently meeting with Han Kihwan were plenty. Aside from the official logs at his office and the traceable calls and messages on both your phones, there were a significant number of CCTV cameras proving you had been meeting with him even well beyond office doors and office hours. You had even been spotted several times at the Han residence.”

Hyeok’s blood runs cold—because he suddenly, truly understands.

He does know Han Joowon. Far, far too well.

“Han Kihwan is currently undergoing appeals to lighten his sentence,” Dongsik is saying. “And one of the ways he can do that—“

“—is if he can prove he has an accomplice,” Hyeok finishes quietly.

Their table has become a silent, unwitting audience to the tense stalemate between them. The rigid set of Dongsik’s shoulders suddenly sags, and Hyeok knows, with a pang in his chest, that the hell on earth brought upon by Han Kihwan is still burning.

And at the center of the pyre—are Han Joowon and Lee Dongsik.

“Han Kihwan knows he can’t beat you, Prosecutor Kwon.” Hyeok’s gaze is arrested by the way Dongsik reaches for his water glass and lets out a humorless chuckle. “Nor can he defeat the son that you raised. He knows far too well that you are both far too smart for him. So instead, he’ll do the next best thing.”

Dongsik takes a swig from the glass, wipes his mouth with back of his hand, and slams the glass back down on the table, spilling water everywhere.

“Han Kihwan is going to bring you down with him, Prosecutor Kwon.”

There’s a reason, Hyeok abruptly realizes with terrified awe, why Lee Dongsik is Han Joowon’s chosen partner. Why Lee Dongsik has never feared the pyre Han Kihwan has lit.

“And Han Joowon will never let that happen.”

Those are the eyes of a lunatic who will follow Han Joowon straight into hell.

—

“Can I see him?”

“Name, please?”

“Lee Dongsik.”

“Relation to the patient?”

“I’m his partner.”

“… Han Joowon-nim’s business partner?”

“His partner. He’s listed as my dependent on my medical insurance.”

“… I’m sorry Lee Dongsik-nim, but unless you’re listed as Han Joowon-nim’s emergency contact, the hospital cannot let you inside critical care because the NHIS doesn’t recognize your claim.”

“The fuck am I letting you stop me from—”

“It’s alright, nurse, I’ll take it from here.”

“Get your hands off me, Prosecutor Kwon! I have every right to—!”

“She’s right, Lee Dongsik-ssi. According to the law, you are not Joowon’s family.”

—

Gwangyoung pulls a grimace as soon as he takes a sip from the styrofoam cup. “Coffee from vending machines always tastes terrible.”

Ohsub rolls his eyes. “Seoul has made you even more pretentious, Senior Inspector Hwang.”

“Caffeine is still caffeine,” Dosoo says tiredly as he drinks from his own cup. “God knows we all need it right now.”

Jihwa silently agrees as she feels the night’s exhaustion seeping through her bones. She turns to Seonnyeo and musters up the strength to offer her a small smile. “How’s Huimangie?”

“I dropped her off at my parents’ place before coming here.” Seonnyeo returns the smile, and once again Jihwa marvels at the calm and comfort Seonnyeo radiates; there’s no one else more suited to motherhood. “Dosoo-ya will pick her up tomorrow since his shift at work is later than mine.”

Jihwa’s features soften. “You didn’t need to come tonight.”

Seonnyeo’s own gaze is kind but firm. “I wanted to.”

“And we needed her expertise,” Dosoo pipes up, a note of pride in his voice as he beams at his wife.

“So,” Ohsub leans forward in his seat, and all the police officers gathered around the hospital vending machine instantly snap to attention. “What do we know so far?”

Seonnyeo flips through the case file in her hand and begins to explain. “According to the records of the company he’s working for, the truck driver had been going through his usual route at his usual delivery time, so there was nothing out of the ordinary in his routine tonight.”

“Except for the fact that his medical records reveal that his blood alcohol concentration was at 0.306% at the time of the collision,” Dosoo remarks dryly.

Gwangyoung whistles lowly. “That’s the highest ever recorded number for a DUI case in history. Even if he survives tonight’s surgery—”

“Gwangyoung-ah,” Jihwa warns.

“I’m just saying,” Gwangyoung raises his hands in appeasement. “After he recovers, he’ll definitely be going to jail.”

“There’s something strange about the truck driver though,” Seonnyeo murmurs, lost in thought as she peruses the case file; Jihwa has to prompt her gently with a hand on her arm to encourage her to share her theories.

“A BAC of 0.250 to 0.399% is a dangerously high level of intoxication. It can already cause alcohol poisoning and even loss of consciousness.”

She turns to her husband. “We’re going to need to access the truck’s dashboard camera to be sure, but with this level of BAC, it’s entirely possible that the driver actually fell asleep at the wheel.”

“Which explains why he didn’t stop at the red light,” Dosoo affirms.

“Doesn’t really help his case,” Gwangyoung mutters, “although the defense can lobby that at least he didn’t purposely beat the red light.”

Seonnyeo bites her lip.

Ohsub sees her obvious hesitance and sighs. “Just say it, Officer Im.”

Instead, Seonnyeo turns to Jihwa and wordlessly hands over the case file to her.

Jihwa skims through the company records. “The truck driver has been consistent in his routine,” she comments. “No previous records of any road violations whatsoever.”

“Exactly,” Seonnyeo’s relief shows on her face when Jihwa confirms her observations. “If he knew he had a delivery route to go through tonight, why would he purposely get himself drunk before his shift?”

“Not just simply drunk,” Dosoo grumbles. “It’s like he ingested a whole liquor store with that amount of alcohol in his system.”

“It’s almost suicidal.”

Everyone turns to Jihwa at her somber words.

“But if he wanted to kill himself,” she says quietly as she sees the alarming BAC numbers for herself, “why would he go through such a roundabout way of doing it…”

She looks up and catches Ohsub’s penetrating gaze.

“… through crashing into another vehicle?”

Ohsub’s eyes narrow. “Inspector Oh—are you suggesting foul play?”

Jihwa shakes her head slowly. “There’s not enough evidence.” Not yet. “But if it is, then…”

She turns to her partner, and it’s a testament to how long and how well they work together that Dosoo’s face immediately clears as the realization hits him at the same time.

“… it falls to our jurisdiction,” Jihwa concludes quietly.

A tense silence abruptly settles in the air.

“A case for the Violent Crimes Unit,” Dosoo confirms grimly, “for attempted murder.”

—

“Remember that highly controversial case that no one else is taking?”

“… You’re seriously calling me in the middle of the night to talk about this?”

“I’m taking it.”

“Why—you—first of all, they can’t afford you.”

“I’m taking it pro bono.”

“You’re—Prosecutor Kwon, you do realize what this will mean for your career?”

“Yes. I absolutely do.”

“This is career suicide.”

“Good. I’m ready to be reborn.”

“… What are you saying?”

“Tell the client I’m ready to meet them.”

“It’s the middle of the god damned night!”

“Wake them.”

—

Jaeyi blinks when she returns to the table she has just cleared and sees it devoid of its previous occupants—save for one.

“Where did everyone go?”

“Prosecutor Kwon went outside to take a business call.” Jihwa runs a hand through her hair distractedly as she offers Jaeyi a reassuring smile. “I think I saw Dongsik-ie following him.”

She steps closer as Jaeyi takes some paper towels and begins wiping down the table, much to Jihwa’s amusement; Jaeyi doesn’t really have to since this isn’t her restaurant, but Jihwa supposes habits are hard to break, and Jaeyi will always have a butcher shop owner’s penchant for sanitation.

“Everyone else hurried to Inspector Han’s room,” Jihwa adds as she takes a paper towel for herself and starts to help. “They were all way too excited to learn that Inspector Han is finally going to be relocated from critical care to general medical care and can now receive visitors.”

It makes Jaeyi crack a smile. “I can imagine Inspector Han may be annoyed enough to actually speed up his recovery just so he won’t have to deal with any more of their well-meaning nagging.”

Jihwa chuckles. “Well, if there’s anyone who can achieve the impossible, it’s Han Joowon.”

Her remark is only met with silence, prompting her to look up. She stops, tilts her head thoughtfully, and softly asks:

“You know why it’s you, don’t you?”

Jaeyi pauses. Her bun has become loose and her bangs are falling in front of her eyes, making it easy for Jaeyi to deliberately avoid Jihwa’s searching gaze.

“Of course I do. I was the only logical choice left.”

Jihwa raises her eyebrows when Jaeyi starts rubbing at a non-existent stain on the table with much more vigor than is necessary. “We all know it should have been Prosecutor Kwon or Dongsik-ahjussi, but Han Kihwan remains to be a fucking bastard even from behind bars,” Jaeyi bites out.

Jihwa’s mouth quirks; Jaeyi will find no disagreement with her there.

“But I also understand,” Jaeyi says quietly, “why it couldn’t have been anyone else.”

She stops and leans heavily with the heel of her palms on the table.

“It should’ve been you too, eonnie, but you and Jihoon-ie have to look out for each other too, and you’re already each other’s emergency contact. Everyone else is either affianced, married, has kids, or—”

The next words catch in Jaeyi’s throat. She takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Or has parents to take care of.”

There’s a profound sadness and resignation in Jaeyi’s eyes when she finally looks up to meet Jihwa’s gaze.

“So I understand why Inspector Han chose me, out of everyone. It couldn’t have been anyone else other than the only one of us who has no family left to lose.”

Just like him is left unsaid, but heavily understood.

There’s a soft intake of breath when Jihwa places her hand over Jaeyi’s, gentling the tightness of her fingers by threading theirs together.

“Inspector Han chose you,” Jihwa says softly, “because he knew without a doubt that it’s Dongsik-ie you would call first.”

Jihwa reaches out to tuck stray wisps of Jaeyi’s hair behind her ear, revealing Jaeyi’s beautiful eyes, shimmering with the tears she’s desperately trying to hold back.

“He also knew that you would not make any important medical decisions without consulting with Prosecutor Kwon first.”

Tenderly, she caresses Jaeyi’s cheek with the back of her hand; her fingers feel cold and wet as Jaeyi closes her eyes and the tears begin to fall from beneath those long lashes.

“And Inspector Han knew that just like you always have, you’d find a way to gather all of us here together—for him.”

Jihwa is ready for it, her arms already open to catch Jaeyi as she finally collapses against Jihwa, her whole frame shaking with broken sobs, the weight of everything she’s been carrying since receiving the call from the hospital finally crashing down on her.

Jihwa gathers her close; Jaeyi tightens her arms around Jihwa’s waist and buries her face in Jihwa’s neck to hide her tears.

“Uri Jaeyi. Han Jowoon chose you because you are our home. Because even someone like Han Joowon knows…”

Jihwa presses her mouth against Jaeyi’s hair and murmurs:

“Home is where he will always find his family.”

—

“Prosecutor Kwon.”

Hyeok stiffens at the all too familiar voice behind him. “I have to go,” he mutters quickly and ends the call.

He pockets his mobile phone, takes a deep breath, and turns around.

The lone, imposing figure at the top of the stairs is watching him, silhouette backlighted by the harsh, bluish-gray lights coming from the hospital doors from which he has just exited.

Hyeok swallows. “There’s—somewhere I need to be.”

Dongsik considers him for a long moment. “I know for a fact that you’re not going home,” he finally says quietly. “What’s so important that you need to leave in the middle of the night?”

“Work.”

Hyeok determinedly holds Dongsik’s gaze. He isn’t lying.

“I see.”

Dongsik makes his way slowly down the stairs of the hospital entrance and stops right in front Hyeok.

And it takes Hyeok’s breath away when Dongsik’s entire countenance changes at his next words—as if the weight of the world has finally been lifted from his shoulders as he regards Hyeok with a gentle smile.

“Uri Joowon-ie is finally transferred to general medical care,” Dongsik tells him softly. “He’s asking for you.”

The unexpected revelation sends Hyeok reeling as he sways on his feet. “Good—that’s good,” he stammers. “Tell him—”

Tell him he’s an idiot, tell him he doesn’t need to protect me because that’s my job, because I’m the big brother even though he has never, ever accepted me as his , because it’s my job to give him everything he needs and this, this is the one thing I can do for him, so tell him—

“Tell him… I have work to do.”

Hyeok adamantly tries his best to not flinch under Dongsik’s penetrating, piercing gaze.

Please, he silently, desperately begs. Please let me do this.

“Okay,” Dongsik assents, much to Hyeok’s surprise. “But before you go, Jihoon-ie asked me to give you this.”

Hyeok watches as Dongsik reaches inside his own jacket pocket. He takes something out and hands it over to Hyeok.

He immediately recognizes what it is—and his throat tightens when he sees his own name written on it.

“Uri Joowon-ie made sure you have one, too.”

Dongsik smiles at him.

“Looks like you’re stuck with us, Prosecutor Kwon.”

—

“Please make sure to feed that idiot too.”

Jaeyi’s mouth quirks, knowing she doesn’t need to clarify who it is. “I promise to feed them all. I think I saw some budae jjigae at the hospital cafeteria earlier.”

She pauses, considering. “Does he even like budae jjigae?”

From his position lying prone on the hospital bed, Joowon lets out a snort. “That man has ostentatious tastes. He’d do well to humble himself and expand his horizons.”

Jaeyi clamps her mouth shut as she tries not to smile at the absolute irony of that statement coming from Han Joowon, of all people. “He really is the one who raised you.”

She grins when Joowon glares at her the best he can from beneath all those bandages. “Speaking of Prosecutor Kwon,” she adds, “he told me something interesting about you.”

“Dear god,” Joowon mutters.

Jaeyi laughs. “He actually talks very fondly of you, you know,” she reveals, smiling a little sadly at the way Joowon looks at her in disbelief. “He told me that you’re eligible for citizenship in England.”

Joowon’s gaze is contemplative as Jaeyi lets the weight of the implication settle between them. “Why are you bringing this up?” he quietly asks.

Jaeyi hesitates. “It’s legal there, isn’t it?” She bites her lip. “If you and ahjussi ever were to get married.”

It’s the way Joowon’s expression remains impassive and unsurprised that tells it all.

This is not the first time it has occurred to him.

“Ahjussi fought hard to be in here,” Jaeyi tells him softly, choosing not to expound on how Hyeok had to physically restrain Dongsik from charging through the doors of critical care. “He fought so hard for his right as your partner.”

“But according to the law, he is not my family.”

Jaeyi swallows at the way Joowon tonelessly repeats Hyeok’s earlier statement nearly word for word. “He can be.”

Joowon turns his head on the pillow to look straight into her eyes. She holds his gaze as the smile she gives him is bittersweet. “He can be your rightful family in England. That’s why I’m bringing it up.”

“I’m not going to do that to him.”

That is certainly not the fierce declaration Jaeyi expects. “What?”

The wires and tubes connected to his body all jangle at the heavy sigh Joowon heaves. “I’m not going to bring Lee Dongsik to England.”

Jaeyi furrows her brows. “Why not?”

The smile Joowon offers her with his wounded and bruised lips is gentle and warm. “Because Manyang butcher shop doesn’t exist there.”

It feels like Jaeyi has been stabbed straight through her heart.

“I love him.” Joowon’s no-nonsense statement is powerful in its simplicity and sincerity. “And it is my sole purpose in life to make him happy.”

Whatever doubts Jaeyi had in the past about Han Joowon being deserving of Lee Dongsik’s love and devotion is now completely obliterated in the wake of this vow.

Because Han Joowon isn’t just someone who will move heaven and earth for Lee Dongsik.

“I will never take Lee Dongsik away from his own family.”

For Lee Dongsik, Han Joowon will go through hell.

—

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Gwangyoung. “Attempted murder?”

“Wait.” Jihoon finally speaks up in disbelief at the direction of the discussion and the unwanted gravity of the implication. “Why are we even considering foul play?”

His sister then looks straight at her boss, who’s startled by her sharp gaze.

Ohsub clears his throat. “As you may all very well know, as police officers, we have the duty and responsibility to avoid speculation without hard evidence.”

Jihwa crosses her arms—and Jihoon recognizes that look immediately.

It’s the look of his big sister—the woman of the house—not letting anyone get away with any bullshit.

Ohsub purses his lips and finally relents.

“Ever since I’ve been promoted to Superintendent,” he begins hesitantly, “I’ve been rubbing elbows with a lot of higher ups in the force, and I’ve been privy to a lot of their conversations. Even the ones they never meant for me to hear.”

He turns to face Jihoon gravely. “They all hate Inspector Han.”

Jihoon frowns, instinctively defensive. “Joowon-hyung is not a bad cop.”

“Inspector Han is indeed a very, very good cop,” Dosoo easily agrees; Jihoon furrows his brows, noting the austerity of Dosoo’s tone in what’s supposed to be praise.

“Inspector Han follows the letter of the law and enacts justice on everyone without exception,” Seonnyeo says quietly. “Not even his own self. Not even the one person he loves beyond all measure.”

They fall silent at her words. Dosoo intertwines their fingers together in empathetic solidarity.

“Not even,” Jihwa adds quietly, “his own father.”

“Not even the wealthiest and most powerful cop in the country borne out of a law enforcement dynasty spanning four generations,” Ohsub clarifies morosely. “The Han family network is a systemic power that’s vast and deeply rooted in the force. It’s how they kept the power in the family for decades.”

Ohsub looks grimly at them.

“And Inspector Han just dismantled it all.”

Jihoon’s gaze is arrested by the way Jihwa leans her head back against the wall at her apprehensive words. “It’s always been an open secret that the Han family dynasty had steadily built and strengthened their influence within the Korean National Police Agency until the third of their generation finally reached the very top.”

“Only to be brought down by their own fourth generation.” Dosoo presses his lips together. “The best and smartest of them all.”

Jihoon swallows. “Han Joowon,” he whispers.

Ohsub sighs and rubs his eyebrows tiredly. “Han Kihwan had his dirty fingers dipped in a lot of pies and had plenty of cronies in the force, most of whom lost significant power after his arrest.”

“I bet they lost a hell of a lot of money too,” Gwangyoung mutters.

Ohsub inclines his head in agreement at the point. “Which means Inspector Han has an ever growing list of enemies, and all of them are in the police force.”

“And word on the grapevine is that they’re planning to take him out.”

Jihoon holds his breath at his sister’s words as she looks at him straight in the eye.

“Through whatever means necessary.”

Jihoon’s hands curl into fists as he turns back to Ohsub. “Hyung—Superintendent Kwak—can’t you report them?”

“For what? Talking smack about a coworker?” Ohsub snorts bitterly. “I can’t even record their conversations because it won’t hold up in any court, and I have no evidence of them actually acting on their threats.”

“Until now,” Seonnyeo interjects quietly. “We don’t have any evidence for the act just yet, nor do we have any leads for an actual suspect, but we certainly have plenty of motive for the attempted murder of Han Joowon.”

Finally putting it into actual words makes the declaration weigh heavily upon all of them.

“Wouldn’t his father protect him?”

Everyone turns to Jihoon at his despaired whisper. “Joowon-hyung is still his family.” He looks at them all desperately. “How much of a monster would Han Kihwan be to allow his own son to be killed?”

His throat tightens as his sister leans forward and lets her face fall into her hands.“In the recording Inspector Han submitted, Lee Changjin can be heard asking Han Kihwan if he’s willing to kill his own son.”

Jihoon watches as Jihwa slicks her hair back, lips pressed tight at the mention of her abominable ex-husband. “It’s corroborated by Lee Changjin’s own statement afterward, when he confessed.”

“And later on, after Han Kihwan’s arrest,” Dosoo adds somberly, “Dongsik-hyung and Inspector Han separately submitted their own statements about what really happened that night at the Han residence.”

“And their statements matched,” Ohsub affirms.

Jihoon swallows.

“Han Kihwan pointed a gun at his own son’s head,” Jihwa viciously reveals, a quiet rage simmering beneath the bitten out words. “A loaded gun. With the safety off.”

She screws her eyes shut as she fights to calm her breathing. “We don’t know if Han Kihwan is the one behind this attempted murder—”

“Allegedly,” Ohsub firmly interjects.

“—on Han Joowon’s life,” Jihwa finishes anyway. “What we do know for certain is that even if he isn’t, Han Kihwan is the kind of father who doesn’t care whether or not his son dies, if it means saving his own ass.”

The resounding silence is suffocating.

“Dongsik-hyung should know.”

The loud, bitter laughter Jihwa lets out at Jihoon’s quiet declaration startles everyone in their seats. “No. Dongsik-ie absolutely should not know. There’s a very good reason Inspector Han did not list him as his emergency contact.”

“Emergency contacts are accessible by police authorities during criminal investigations,” Ohsub explains grimly. “Killing Inspector Han is like killing two birds with one stone, because it opens up a case.”

Jihoon feels like he’s going insane at how he can actually follow the deranged train of thought. “And it allows cops access to private records, including that of Dongsik-hyung, if he’s listed as Joowon-hyung’s emergency contact.”

“Yes,” Ohsub affirms. “Because everyone in the force also knows that Inspector Han didn’t bring down Han Kihwan singlehandedly.”

“He had a partner,” Jihwa says quietly, “in Lee Dongsik.”

Jihoon stares at them, unwilling to accept what they’re all implying. “Are you saying that Dongsik-hyung needs to be protected?”

“No,” Ohsub says wryly, “the problem is precisely the opposite.”

“Lee Dongsik brought down the most powerful cop in the country and put an end to a family dynasty just to bring justice to Lee Yuyeon.” The look his sister gives Jihoon is tinged with a strange mixture of bittersweet sadness and fearful trepidation. “How far do you think Lee Dongsik is willing to go this time just to bring justice to Han Joowon?”

Jihoon inhales sharply.

“The whole world,” Jihwa quietly declares, “might as well burn.”

—

“The damn truck driver is alive?!”

“Currently in surgery as we speak. Apparently that bastard Han Joowon swerved just enough in time to avoid most of the impact.”

“Pests really are such a headache to exterminate.”

“What are we going to do if the driver talks?”

“What’s he gonna say? He can’t prove that we drugged him.”

“And Han Joowon? There are so many other ways to get rid of that pest, why are we doing it this way?”

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? The father had been brought down by a DUI. It’s poetic that we bring down the son in exactly the same way.”

—

“Doesn’t Joowon-hyung deserve that?”

Jihoon’s hands are tightly fisted on his lap as he looks up at his sister. “After having a father who won’t think twice about throwing his own son into hell, doesn’t Joowon-hyung deserve to have someone who will instead burn the world for him?”

Everyone falls silent at his breathless question. Jihwa tilts her head to one side, watching him thoughtfully.

“Yes,” she finally assents. “He does.”

Jihoon stares at the way his sister unexpectedly smiles.

“Just—not right now,” Jihwa comments dryly, “while Dongsik-ie is still under probation.”

Jihoon blinks.

Dosoo grins wryly, backing up his partner. “Dongsik-hyung can’t protect or fight alongside Inspector Han if he ends up in prison.”

Whatever Jihoon is about to say next dies on his lips as everyone’s attention is arrested when the doors to critical care suddenly swing open—

—and out walks Jaeyi.

Everyone scrambles to their feet in surprise, anxiously watching her amble towards them with unsteady steps; Jihoon notes how she has her arms wrapped tightly around herself, the tremors in her frame betraying how she’s fiercely trying to control her quiet sobs.

Jihoon feels the ground reeling beneath his feet, dreading the absolute worst. “Noona…?”

Slowly, Jaeyi raises her head, and Jihoon’s chest twists achingly at the sight of her: Jaeyi’s clothes are rumpled, her hair is disheveled, her eyes are haggard and red from crying—

And she’s staring straight at Jihoon.

“Inspector Han is awake. You’re the first person he’s asking to see.”

From his peripheral vision, Jihoon sees the way his sister sharply turns to him in undisguised alarm.

“Me?” Jihoon breathes, heart in his throat. “Why me?”

With shaking hands, Jaeyi reaches inside her jacket and takes out a letter envelope.

The smile she offers Jihoon is trembling.

“He wants you to have this.”

—

“Did you even calculate the route correctly?”

“The timing of the crash was supposed to be perfect. We even planted the road detours they were both forced to take and timed the traffic lights to malfunction at the precise intersection.”

“It should’ve been enough to indict the truck driver for beating the red light. He was supposed to be our scapegoat.”

“Except the idiot actually lost consciousness. The spiked alcohol in his system was way too potent.”

“Go through the crash site and get rid of the dashboard camera so it can’t be submitted as evidence.”

“We can’t.”

“What do you mean we can’t?”

“Someone got to the footage first.”

“Who the fuck would want that footage?”

“That meddlesome fool from Team One of Munju Police Station’s Violent Crimes Unit. Assistant Inspector Kang Dosoo.”

—

This is what a heart attack must feel like, Jaeyi thinks as she rushes forward in a panic, heart hammering violently against her ribs.

“Inspector Han!”

She shrieks, a hand firmly on Joowon’s bandaged chest to stop him from rising from the hospital bed; the insistent warning beeping of all the machines connected to his body isn’t helping her already jangled nerves. “Please let me call the nurses now.”

“Officer Oh,” Joowon says hoarsely instead, and it makes Jaeyi’s gaze snap up to him in surprise. “I need to find Officer Oh.”

Jaeyi furrows her brows. “… Jihoon-ie?” Tendrils of worry color her tone as a creeping sense of dread begins to overtake her at the completely unexpected name.

“Please,” Joowon whispers as he lies back on his bed, and it’s a testament to how utterly weak his current state is that he can’t even put up a physical fight against Jaeyi.

It makes her simultaneously ache for him and feel utterly enraged on his behalf.

“Please find him,” Joowon is begging her. “I need to give something to him.”

Jaeyi squeezes her eyes shut. Calm. Inspector Han needs you to be calm, damn it. “Okay,” she relents, “but only if you behave and stay still.”

He has the absolute audacity to smirk at her. “All right, mother.”

“I am not—!”

Jaeyi takes a deep lungful of breath and lets it out slowly as she runs her hands over her face. “Dear god, ahjussi really is the only one who can match your insanity,” Jaeyi mutters between her fingers.

Joowon blinks at her innocently.

Jaeyi scowls. “Fine. What is it that you need to give to Jihoon-ie?”

“It’s in my coat—”

“I just told you to stay still—”

Joowon seems to finally take pity on her—that, or the way she inadvertently pitches her tone incredibly high with worry really does sound like a mother scolding her wayward son. “Forgive me,” he murmurs, looking appropriately chastised. “I just—need to know it’s there.”

Jaeyi sighs, heart softening despite herself. “I think the nurses put away the clothes you were wearing—”

—when you almost died and we almost lost you—

“—when they found you. I’ll see if I can find your coat.”

Joowon is compliantly quiet and still as Jaeyi turns her back on him. She rummages through the pile of clothes she vaguely remembers that the nurses have set aside by the bedside drawers when they first wheeled in the hospital bed—with Han Joowon lying on it deathly still.

Jaeyi firmly presses her lips together and staunchly refuses to let her attention linger on the bloodstains still caked on the clothes, refusing to even think about how much blood Joowon has actually lost.

She inwardly vows to get rid of the stains before Dongsik finds them. She refuses to think about what will happen if he does.

Maybe she should just burn the clothes entirely, before Dongsik ends up burning something else.

“Yoo Jaeyi-ssi,” Joowon speaks up softly from behind her, pulling her wandering thoughts back to the task at hand.

She finds the coat at the bottom of the pile, the dark color thankfully camouflaging whatever bloodstains still managed to splatter on the outer piece of clothing.

“It’s inside the pocket,” Joowon murmurs. “You’ll find a letter envelope.”

Jaeyi begins patting down the coat and reaches inside the first pocket she finds.

She ends up pulling out Joowon’s wallet. It falls open just as she fully intends to put it aside.

Jaeyi stares.

She recognizes the background with how often she’s been at Okcheon lake. She recognizes that it’s summer too, with how clear the skies are and how glaringly bright the sun is shining, as well as the thin tank top worn for the heat.

It’s the way Lee Dongsik is looking back at her that takes her breath away.

His curls are caught in a frozen summer breeze—it’s obviously been a while since this photo has been taken, since Dongsik hasn’t had his haircut yet in this one. The sunshine from above highlights the fond glow of his eyes as he looks lovingly at the camera, the corners of his mouth softened by a tender smile.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who has taken the photo. There’s only one person in the entire world whom Dongsik ever looks at like this.

Like he’s looking at a piece of paradise—his deliverance and salvation all at once.

Like Lee Dongsik has finally been allowed inside the elusive gates of heaven.

“Did you find it?”

Jaeyi drops the wallet on the bedside table as if it scalds her. “I—no—a letter envelope right,” she stammers, feeling weirdly guilty about accidentally discovering what she knows for sure is meant to be kept private.

“Yes.” Joowon sounds amused. “It’s in the other pocket.”

“Right.” Jaeyi responds distractedly. Pull yourself together, she silently admonishes herself. “Here, I think I found it.”

Her fingers close upon the envelope and pulls it out.

Behind her, she hears Joowon draw a sharp intake of breath. “Can you check if it’s all there?”

Jaeyi blinks. Check what?

She opens the envelope—and is entirely taken aback to see all of their names printed on each one.

Han Joowon. Lee Dongsik. Oh Jihoon. Oh Jihwa. Yoo Jaeyi. Hwang Gwangyoung. Kang Dosoo. Im Seonnyeo. Kwak Ohsub.

Her eyebrows rise at the last name she finds.

Kwon Hyeok.

Slowly, Jaeyi turns around to face Joowon once more, the envelope carefully cradled in her hands.

She’s thoroughly nonplussed.

“Concert tickets?”

Joowon looks relieved. “Music festival tickets, to be precise,” he clarifies. “Officer Oh told me that he once promised to take her when he was still an idol trainee, because he wanted to perform for her at a music festival when he debuted. Unfortunately his idol career fell through, so he wasn’t able to fulfill his promise to her.”

Jaeyi’s brows crinkle in confusion. “Her…?”

“I figured the timing is now right,” Joowon murmurs, “considering the date of the festival.”

Jaeyi’s gaze falls back to the tickets. She takes one out—the one with her own name printed on it—and inspects it carefully.

Her knees suddenly wobble and she falls back to her seat as soon as she recognizes the date. Her hand flies to her mouth to silence the shocked cry that threatens to burst forth.

“It’s a celebration,” Joowon says softly, “of Kang Minjeong’s birthday.”

—

“ Kang Dosoo? No wonder he sounds familiar. That’s one of the names.”

“What names?”

“On the tickets Han Joowon bought from me.”

—

“Lee Dongsik.”

Hyeok feels the other man’s eyes on him as he carefully pockets the ticket close to his heart.

His hands are surprisingly steady.

“Find the fuckers who hurt our Joowon,” he whispers fiercely, “and leave the rest to me.”

The iron grip on his arm is unyielding when he turns to leave.

“Hyeok-ah,” Dongsik hisses through gritted teeth. “What the hell are you planning to do?”

Hyeok’s gaze travels from Dongsik’s hand all the way up to his eyes. Privately he notes that the fire burning in that gaze is flaring much in the same way as Joowon’s eyes once did when he implored Hyeok to cut off the rotten rope tying him to Han Kihwan.

It’s almost like looking into the eyes of another brother.

“I told you inside that hospital that according to the law, you are not Han Joowon’s family.”

It satisfies Hyeok immensely to see Dongsik looking so unsettled and taken aback at the slow, wolfish grin that creeps across Hyeok’s face.

After all, Lee Dongsik may be forgetting who actually raised Han Joowon.

“It’s time to change the law.”

—

Supreme Court recognizes rights of same-sex couples to receive spousal health insurance coverage

Korea's Supreme Court recognized new rights for same-sex couples Thursday, saying the state must provide health insurance for a gay man's partner in a landmark ruling that left activists weeping for joy.

"National Health Insurance should recognize spousal insurance coverage for same-sex couples," the court ruled, with activists breaking into cheers as the verdict was read out.

The verdict, which cannot be appealed as it comes from the country's highest court, means common-law spouses of the same sex can now register as dependents on their partners' health insurance.

"It is discrimination based on sexual orientation to exclude the couple just because they are same-sex," the court ruled.

"It is a discriminatory act that violates human dignity and values, the right to pursue happiness, freedom of privacy, and the right to be equal before the law, and the degree of infringement is serious."

—

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Text Message

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Common-law spouses?

What happened to hi, hello, good evening? Do old men like you really forget your manners as you age?

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Hi, hello, good evening Prosecutor Kwon. I’m also only six years older than you, you little shit. Common-law spouses?

De Facto Marriage in legal terms, yeah

My client sued the National Health Insurance Service because it terminated benefits for his partner after discovering they were a gay couple

The NHIS is legally required to grant spousal coverage benefits even to common-law partners, and both the Seoul High Court and the Supreme Court mandated that the NHIS reinstate my client’s dependent benefits

JOOWON’S LUNATIC I didn’t know De Facto Marriage in our country was also applicable to queer couples

It is now

JOOWON’S LUNATIC I see

JOOWON’S LUNATIC So how exactly can a De Facto Marriage be legally established under the law?

(i) Mutual intent to form a marital relationship

(ii) The existence of substance of marital life

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Can you possibly elaborate on that without all the legal mumbo jumbo?

You know, normally I charge clients for consultations like this

By the hour

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Eh, just put it on your brother’s tab

The court looks into various factors such as the duration of cohabitation, the existence of a marriage ceremony, and relationship with other family members

My client already had a public ceremony with his partner three years ago, which was attended by all of their friends and family, and they’ve also been living together since way before the wedding

JOOWON’S LUNATIC So you’re saying the relationship needs to be publicized as akin to an actual marriage

Yeah, basically

JOOWON’S LUNATIC I see

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Prosecutor Kwon

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Prosecutor Kwon

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Hyeok-ah

For the love of god Lee Dongsik it is three in the fucking morning and I have a court hearing in five hours STOP BLOWING UP MY NOTIFICATIONS I NEED TO SLEEP

JOOWON’S LUNATIC How do you feel about officiating our wedding ceremony?

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Are you there? Yah, did you actually fall asleep on me?

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Prosecutor Kwon

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Prosecutor Kwonnn

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Hyeok-ahhhhh

I’m putting all of this on your husband’s tab

Also

It’s about damn time

—

“What made you say yes?”

“Technically, he said yes.”

“It’s not a competition of who loves the other more, you know.”

“I certainly don’t want to lose.”

“So that’s why you asked him? The last time we talked, you were adamant about keeping your distance to protect him.”

“That was before I made the unforgivable mistake of failing to be by his side when he needed me the most because of a miscalculation I made last year.”

“You mean when you almost died.”

“Don’t be dramatic, I made a full recovery in record time, according to my physical therapists.”

“Again—not a competition, Inspector Han. So what made you decide to finally publicize your relationship?”

“The law changes everything.”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? What Prosecutor Kwon did for you.”

“He charges me by the hour.”

“Well, you and Dongsik-ie will legally have joint finances soon, so I’m sure you’ll be able to afford Prosecutor Kwon’s rates.”

“Dongsik-ssi is actually not happy about that. He said he doesn’t want access to my finances, and while I understand that it’s because he also doesn’t want to have anything to do with my father’s dirty money, the fact remains that he of all people deserves to be paid reparations by Han Kihwan. Why are you grinning like that?”

“Only you, Inspector Han, will blackmail Lee Dongsik into becoming filthy rich through a De Facto Marriage because he won’t accept your money otherwise. You two lunatics truly deserve each other.”

“… I’m trying to ascertain whether that is a compliment or an insult.”

“So—joint finances, joint custody of properties. You’ll also now legally be the co-owner of the Okcheon lake residence. It’s all just a formality anyway, since you two have been living together there for years now.”

“How did you—”

“Jihoon-ie talks. A lot.”

“Finances and property aren’t my main concern anyway, because unlike legal marriages, common-law spouses aren’t automatically granted inheritance should one of us die.”

“Pretty sure neither of you are going to let that happen in the first place.”

“I’m certainly not gonna die before him.”

“Not really a competition Inspector Han, considering you’re thirteen years younger.”

“What I mean is that I simply won’t survive without him. Because I don’t want to.”

“That’s—Inspector Han—”

“And because common-law spouses are still legally mandated to uphold the same vows of fidelity, I am looking forward to him keeping his vow to spend the rest of his life with me.”

“You’re—blackmailing him to keep himself alive for you.”

“That is the gist of it, yes.”

“Huh. Well, whatever works to keep him safe, I guess.”

“It is a grave lesson that the unfortunate situation last year—“

“You almost dying—”

“—has irrevocably taught me. It is better to protect him by keeping him close instead of keeping him at a distance.”

“And the privilege extended to common-law spouses in legally refusing to testify against each other has absolutely no bearing on your decision to ask for Dongsik-ie’s hand in marriage? Publicizing your relationship like this makes you even more of a target.”

“From what’s left of my father’s fallen network?”

“No, I don’t think Han Kihwan’s men will be a problem anymore. I’m more concerned about the homophobic vultures inevitably swarming you both because of your soon to be public marriage.”

“De Facto Marriage. The spousal privilege is not automatically granted in the same way as legal marriages, because every protection and privilege granted to common-law spouses will have to go through further legal proceedings to be granted by the court.”

“It’s a good thing you have a cutthroat lawyer on your side.”

“Whose exorbitant rates are preposterous.”

“It’s worth it though, isn’t it?”

“For Lee Dongsik? Always.”

“I’m really happy for you, Joowon-ah. Both of you. You’ll show me the photos, right?”

“Of what?”

“The wedding ceremony. I’m sure it’s going to be magical.”

“Why would I show you photos?”

“I—I just thought—I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to—”

“Why would I show you photos when you can take them yourself?”

“… What?”

“You’ll be out on parole soon, won’t you? For good behavior.”

“How did you—”

“I have, shall we say, a ridiculously overcompensated lawyer working on it.”

“… But why? Why would he—why would you do this for me?”

“There’s a reason we set the date of the wedding ceremony after your prison sentence has ended.”

“I—Dongsik-ie didn’t invite me.”

“You’re not his guest. You’re mine, Park Jeongje-ssi.”

—

“I see,” Gwangyoung murmurs. “I’ll take note of that. Thank you for informing me.”

Jihwa looks up as Gwangyoung ends his call. She sees the way he frowns when he sees precisely who’s missing.

“Where’s Dongsik-hyung?”

“Where do you think?” Jaeyi looks incredibly drained but the smile she gives them all is much more weightless now. “It’s going to be an impossible challenge to pry ahjussi away from Inspector Han’s bedside from now on, unless someone has a pretty compelling reason.”

“Nothing less than the apocalypse happening,” Seonnyeo says amusedly as the tightness of her shoulders finally relaxes.

Dosoo grins at his wife when she lays her head on his shoulder. “Maybe not even then.”

“We’re going to have to ask the nurses to bring in two trays for every hospital meal,” Jihoon chuckles, puffy eyes still red-rimmed but brighter. “And two changes of clothes every night and day too.”

“The hospital bill will also definitely double,” Ohsub says wryly. “Too bad the NHIS doesn’t recognize Inspector Han as Dongsik-ie’s dependent, though I’m sure Inspector Han can afford to pay for everything anyway.”

“It’s not really the money that’s the issue,” Jihoon protests, “but the principle of equality. Especially in the eyes of the law.”

“Yeah well,” Ohsub shrugs as he leans back with a sigh. “The world has never treated everyone equally and that’s never gonna change, kid.”

“I am not a kid,” Jihoon grumbles.

Jihwa smiles and reaches out to ruffle her baby brother’s hair affectionately. Across from her, she notes the way Gwangyoung takes his seat with a sort of quiet tension, and it makes Jihwa pause.

“Everything okay, Gwangyoung-ah? Who was that on the phone?”

He looks up at her with uncharacteristic seriousness. “A friend from the force. Someone who has access to the traffic cameras.”

Jihwa feels her pulse begin to quicken.

Ohsub narrows his eyes. “Can this friend be trusted?”

“Yes,” Gwangyoung says firmly, “because I asked him to review the route Inspector Han had taken tonight before the collision.”

The mood in the hospital corridor instantly changes at his words.

“And what did he find out?” Jihwa prompts impatiently.

Gwangyoung presses his lips together. “We all know that Inspector Han is someone who sticks rigidly to routine. Whenever he gets off work, there’s only two routes he ever takes for either of two destinations: Manyang butcher shop, or Okcheon lake.”

“Wherever ahjussi is,” Jaeyi murmurs.

Gwangyoung tilts his head. “Tonight however, he made a detour.”

Jihwa’s eyebrows rise. “To where?”

“That’s where it gets strange,” Gwangyoung says in frustration. “The cameras coincidentally malfunctioned just as he started to break away from his normal route.”

That’s not a coincidence.

“The tickets.”

Everyone turns to Jaeyi in surprise; Jihoon clutches the letter envelope a little tighter against his chest.

Jaeyi meets Jihwa’s gaze. “Inspector Han told me that he went to pick up the tickets tonight.”

“Where though?” Dosoo pipes up. “Ticketing offices are already closed by the time his shift is over.”

“That’s not even the most questionable part.”

Jihwa turns at the way her brother hesitantly speaks up; his brows are furrowed in contemplation as he gazes at the envelope in his hands. He takes a deep breath and meets Jihwa’s eyes.

“The tickets for the festival were already sold out months ago,” Jihoon says quietly. “I’ve been wondering how Joowon-hyung got these tickets in the first place.”

“Some government offices actually get free complimentary tickets from entertainment companies who want to cut through the red tape,” Ohsub points out. “It’s technically bribery, but unfortunately it’s common practice for crooked officials taking advantage of the perks. Maybe Inspector Han’s department got a hold of these tickets.”

Jaeyi swiftly shakes her head. “No, Inspector Han definitely said he bought them.”

“Also—” Dosoo’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. “Han Joowon? Accepting bribery?”

“… All right, well, point taken,” Ohsub mutters. “It was just a theory.”

Government offices…

“Seonnyeo-ah,” Jihwa calls her out. “Can you go through the list of clients the truck driver delivers to, and see if there are any government offices along his route tonight?”

Ohsub furrows his brows. “What are you up to, Inspector Oh?”

“Gathering evidence,” Jihwa answer simply, startling all of them when she starts rattling instructions. “Jihoon-ah, if it’s true that the festival is already sold out, and Jaeyi says that Inspector Han only got the tickets tonight, it means he bought them secondhand.”

She gestures to the letter envelope in Jihoon’s hands.

“All tickets have corresponding control numbers that are unique to each one. You and Jaeyi should go through the secondhand market online to see if anyone posted photos or screenshots of the tickets with these control numbers and find out who the seller is. Ask Prosecutor Kwon to send you photos of his own ticket too. Dosoo-ya, I need you to get the footage of the dashboard camera from both vehicles involved in the crash, asap. And Gwangyoung-ah.”

Gwangyoung snaps to attention at being addressed.

“Your informant.” Jihwa narrows her eyes. “Who does he work for?”

—

“There’s just one thing I’d like to know, Park Jeongje-ssi.”

“Anything, Joowon-ah.”

“What exactly did you mean when you said my father’s men won’t be a problem anymore?”

—

Dongsik’s grip on Hyeok tightens.

“I know you won’t appreciate hearing this from me, Hyeok-ah,” he hisses, “but I will never forgive you if you make Joowonie go through the agonizing pain of losing the only sibling he’s ever known—”

Even through several layers of clothing, Hyeok feels the way Dongsik’s fingernails dig sharply into his skin.

“—because I know exactly what that feels like.”

Hyeok heart spasms.

“Then you’ll understand precisely what I’m about to ask of you.”

He grasps Dongsik’s arm with equal fervor, his gaze burning with equal intensity.

“I beg of you, Lee Dongsik,” Hyeok invokes beseechingly, casting away all of his pride for the one person he’s risking it all for. “Please don’t let me lose my brother.”

—

Jihwa stares at all the undeniable, irrefutable evidence in her hands.

It all points to a single entity.

Slowly, she raises her head—and sees her family, her team, all watching her.

Waiting.

Jihwa takes a deep breath and looks at her boss.

“Superintendent Kwak,” she says solemnly, “I formally ask for your permission for Violent Crimes to pursue and prioritize this case.”

She glances at her partner. Dosoo nods once—firmly.

Resolutely.

Ohsub’s expression is grave when Jihwa turns back to him.

“And I’m going to need a search and seizure warrant for—”

—

“The Community Safety and Traffic Bureau will be welcoming new employees today, so you all better be on your best behavior.”

“Why? These newbies are going to go through our hazing anyway.”

“What are their jobs?”

“Management changed agencies due to budget cuts, so there’s going to be new custodians on board.”

“You mean glorified janitors.”

“A lot of them are ex-cons who are out on parole or probation, so it’s not like they have the best career options to choose from.”

“Who would willingly choose a career in cleaning toilets, right?”

“Ah here comes one of them now. According to his file, his probation just ended, so he’s now a free man once again.”

“Free to once again commit crimes and land himself back in prison.”

“Who knows, maybe this one isn’t a lunatic for once. You over there, you’re new, right? What’s your name?”

The man in question stops. Slowly, he takes off the cap of his custodian uniform, revealing a wild mess of curls underneath.

Everyone takes an unwitting step back at the maniacal glint of those eyes as the man takes a deep, ninety-degree bow.

“My name is…”

The man straightens, his mouth stretching in a wide, serpentine grin of a psychopath, rivaling that of a serial killer—

—and they collectively feel their heart stop as they all instantly recognize who he is.

And somehow they know, without a doubt, that they’re all about to burn.

“Lee Dongsik, at your service.”

—

모든 게 다 타 버리고 남아있는 한 줌이여 Ash, ash, ash, ash 방주를 새롭게 지어 나아가 저 세계로 Ash, ash, ash, ash

Oh, the handful that's left from everything burning Ash, ash, ash, ash Let's build a new ark and go out into the world Ash, ash, ash, ash

—

Also posted at AO3

For @eonni92, whose multiple, precious gifts of artistry I wholeheartedly treasure, and for whom I can only humbly offer this story as my gift in return.

—

Title and lyrics from "Ash" by SEVENTEEN

References:

The landmark Supreme Court ruling recognizing the rights of same-sex couples is based on factual events in South Korea, as publicized in July 2024. A portion of the article from The Korea Times is lifted word for word for the purposes of this story. You can read the article in full here. The only fictional aspect in this story with regards to the actual lawsuit is who the prosecutor in charge was 😉

Both the Oh family background and the Han family background are all canon, based on the character backgrounds in the official script book by Beyond Evil writer Kim Sujin herself. You can read the English translations of the script book here, as translated by @rumpleteasa, who is a remarkable gem of a reliable resource for the fandom.

Thank you so much for your time in reading this story, and always remember:

It's not "blood is thicker than water" but "the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb".

May you all find your own Manyang butcher shop, and may you all redefine what it truly means to be family.

[so-long-soldier28]

shit.

@chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @vaugarkel

i'm starting to like theo.

and by like, i mean urge liam to let him out of the jail cell. and gripe at everyone *cough* malia *cough* who gives him shit. and, when those stupid deputies kept waking him up in 6x12 (i think), i was bitching at them through my laptop screen.

[dovalore]

evbo meets a little friend!

alright you already know the drill, time for a yap session

his eyes are just rectangles (oblongs?) here since i wanted to incorporate that specific aspect of evbo's skin into the design. it also kinda serves to make him look more... animalistic? he's a bird, so i really like this look for him

the song i listened to while designing him was to the sky

another inspiration i had for this design was meteion since she's probably one of my favourite designs in ffxiv

he's somewhat based off a conure/hummingbird! their colours are similar at least and hummingbirds have incredible control over their flight so yeah, that's him

but if you asked me to pick between those two for like, an actual bird form, he'd be a hummingbird. again, because they're super agile but this is what i imagine what he sounds like when he snores

related to that: all of his colours were made warmer on purpose, really colourful birds usually come from tropical regions so this was a way to reflect that a little bit

no boots, just netherite scales on his legs and hands (claw? talons?) because i thought it would be cool. so these things can't be taken off, they're part of his body

the knee pads can though, those pop on and off like magnets

he can't actually fly, but he can glide and it helps with adjusting the trajectory of his jumps and it negates the need for water bucket clutches if he times his wingbeats right (so i guess this makes it closer to an elytra? it might be interesting if he figured out how to use fireworks)

instead of having tail feathers coming off his body, i thought it would be a cooler visual to have his headband become his tail. so... that's' another thing he can't take off his body now!

the things he can take off are his hoodie and pants

pants are worn as usual, but the hoodie has a giant hole in the back for him to slip into so he doesn't have to pull things over his wings

speaking of his tail feathers, they're based off peacock feathers since he's kind of a show of lmao, the 'eyes' on them are a nod to him being the parkour god since i did something similar for acg's design with his head wing, evbo's markings are pretty much just that. markings, so he can't see through them or anything

not visible because it's being covered up, his chest is fluffy! i just think it would be cute and i'll take literally any excuse to add more fluff to a character because it brings me that much joy

also this is the first iteration i had of bird evbo's design, look at this little guy

the green highlights were cool here, but they kinda just ended up blending in with the rest of his hoodie/body so i decided not to do that

i made him fuzzier in the full piece too because i can

his ears were changed to be wings since these ones were too similar to my previous evbo design

headband tail feathers have been part of the vision since the start, but these ones here were pretty much just slapped on without too much thought about what they actually look like

now i don't usually share unfinished work on its own but these two have been sitting in my drafts for weeks now so... here's another little guy!

can you tell that i really enjoy making designs of him?

anyway, since summit evbo's still a draft at this point, i won't say much about him since he'll have his own post eventually

but i do want to say that i consider him and bird evbo as a duo of sorts since they're kinda opposites in terms of design

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.